You wander into city hall on a genealogy-related expedition and inquire at the records department about the extended family of your mouse. The grizzled old man at the counter looks at you oddly and says, "What? Mice? No, we don't keep track of mouse families here."
Dejected, you turn to leave, when a strangely mousy-looking man in a trenchcoat at the door whispers, "Psst, need to know the lineage of your mouse? I got your pedigrees right here." Suspicious, yet intrigued, you take the document he pushes into your hands, and examine it to discover that, yes, there are your mouse's parents--siblings--perhaps even grandparents, aunts, and uncles! All your questions have been answered. You glance up to thank the man in a trenchcoat, but he is already gone.
You hear the grizzled old man from the records department mutter, "Don't keep mouse records," behind you as you leave, document in hand.
Dejected, you turn to leave, when a strangely mousy-looking man in a trenchcoat at the door whispers, "Psst, need to know the lineage of your mouse? I got your pedigrees right here." Suspicious, yet intrigued, you take the document he pushes into your hands, and examine it to discover that, yes, there are your mouse's parents--siblings--perhaps even grandparents, aunts, and uncles! All your questions have been answered. You glance up to thank the man in a trenchcoat, but he is already gone.
You hear the grizzled old man from the records department mutter, "Don't keep mouse records," behind you as you leave, document in hand.
