A LIST OF DOGS

Snooky was my first dog. I was four. He was a thief. We lived in one of the very first houses in the Fruit Bowl on Hillcrest. Snooky would bring us stuff from neighbors' yards. Once he even dragged back a half-gallon of milk.

A fox terrier by the name of Tippy was my next dog. My oldest niece let him squirm out of her hands and he broke a leg.

My next dog was a collie. I don't even remember his name. We got him from Happy's Pet Shop and he had hair balls and died after a month or so. A neighbor, Danny Vaught, bought his brother. Same place: same result.

Ginger was also a terrier who was a favorite of my Mom's. I don't recall anything distinguishing about her. She was just around and liked to lap sit.

A chihuahua, dubbed Chiquita saw me through my junior high and high school years. Not real timid, not real aggressive, she was pretty cool.

Pierre, how original(!) was a pretty cool poodle my wife and I bought. He would sorta come to me when I called, though sometimes he would run all over 24th and 23rd Streets before he meandered back home. He didn't like Scott when he was born, so he got shipped to my parents. (Pierre, not Scott.)

Bandit was my last dog. He never came to me, but he was my favorite. A big white and black Great Pyrenees mix, he was my bud. I'd walk him, bathe him, yell at him, but he was just cool. He'd jog with me, too. When arthritic hips gave out on him after 13 years, I couldn't even take him to the vet to have him put to sleep. Caroline and friend, Nida, did the dirty work.

And that's it for me. Like the movie Must Love Dogs, you don't have to have one to love them.