Dogs I Have Loved (Canine, not Human...)

Some friends roped me into attending a fundraiser to raise awareness of "black dog syndrome," i.e., the lower adoption rate for black dogs (and cats).  Huh?  What weird form of animal adoption racism is this, and how have I never heard of it?  Well, one of the tips for combating the syndrome is to talk about how wonderful and beautiful black dogs are.  I am happy to do my part.

Our first family dog was a splendid black and brown Gordon Setter named Pepper; she was my father's prize birdhunting dog and lies faithfully at his feet in the family photo I posted a while back.  She was equally devoted to my brother and me, functioning as a sort of canine second mother, and would let my brother lie with his head on her stomach when we watched TV in the den. 

After Pepper came a gorgeous though neurotic golden retriever.  His name was Abbey--short for Duke of Abbey--but this caused a lot of gender confusion.  Abbey was meant to be the pick of the litter, a designation which caused much mirth in our household whenever he showed a rather startling lack of brains and decorum.  (Pretty much any time he was actively breathing.)  In this blurry old Polaroid photo (sorry), I am pouting because Abbey would not cooperate with the costume we put together for a parade.  Mom and I thought it would be cute if I dressed up in my riding outfit and put a stuffed fox, also in a riding outfit, on Abbey.  He disagreed and felt that jumping around out of control would have more impact on the judges.  We didn't win the costume prize.

So you see? Go for the smart, soulful brunettes over the shallow, ditzy blondes. (I'm just speaking of canine adoptions here, of course.)