Dodger Dog, Dawg!

I had a lot of dogs growing up. There was Taffy, who was actually my Grunner's dog. Taffy was a Pug with a scowlin' mug. She always had a sour look on her face since her bottom teeth jutted out further than the rest of her mouth. Tiger was a stray that we picked up off the street. He was a horrible dog. He even jumped up on my great-grandmother and made her break her hip. Bad dog.

Um... let's see... there was also a Doberman, but I forget her name because I was so young. Then there was Taz. He was a golden colored Rottweiler. Loved loved loved Taz. He was huge, but he thought he was a lap dog. He would follow me to school in the mornings which was kinda embarrassing at times, but it was also a little nice to have a walking buddy.

I think that there may have been more, but those are the front runners in my mind.

Fraser had zero dogs. Null. None. Zilch. Zippo.

We tried to have a dog a few years ago, but we ended up giving her to a friend after about a month of owning her. Fraser does NOT do well with dogs.

So when we went into a pet store and saw the cutest little Bassett Hound, I died. Died. I begged and begged and begged for a few days. My birthday came and went, and I pouted. And pouted. And pouted... until I came home one day to find a little Bassett Hound who couldn't run without tripping over his own ears. Again, I died. It took a few days to name him, but we finally settled on Dodger. Not for the baseball team, but because he's long like a hot dog, and what's the best kind of hot dog out there.... a Dodger dog, dawg. :o)

P.S. Fraser is very slowly falling in love with Dodger -- even though he would never admit it. ha!

Here's a few of that other sweet little boy in my life...