The first dog I ever got was a miniature dachshund, when I was three years old. My older brother, who was much older, told one of his co-workers to let him know if he heard of a "good dog". So, the friend comes over to our house and says, "Darryl, I found you a good dog." He reaches in his shirt pocket and pulls out this tiny dachshund puppy. My mom says I ran acoss the room, snatched the puppy, and ran in my room with it. My brother looked at his friend and said, "That was not the kind of dog I meant. I meant a German Shepherd or something like that." Too late, the dog was mine. I named him Drawstring. I have no idea why ... I was three.

The second dog I had was an American Eskimo mix named Snow. My dad found him as a scared, starving puppy in the pipe yard at his work. I had him until I was in college, and he died of old age.

The third dog I had was an English cocker named Blood. (Don't ask. I didn't name her.) She was my older brother's dog, and when he was killed in a car accident, we took her. She also died when I was in college.

Those are the only three dogs I had a a child. The next dog I got was my first dog as an adult, Lacie, my RB cocker spaniel. I got her right before I graduated from college, and she died a few years ago.