As a child, we were only allowed to have cats. Mom didn't want dogs in the house and didn't want to fence the yard or tie them out. So I got my first dog when I married and moved but he was only 35lbs. When he passed away 11 years later, I swore I'd never get another (yeah, right!). Six months later, my sister in law begged me to take her CBR mix because she didnt have the time to care for him. I reluctantly agreed. Coubar is an awesome dog, but he spent too much time alone while we worked all day. So a year later, we went to the shelter and found him a pal. Kahluah is an english setter mix and even though they are both 9 now, you'd never know the way the chase each other around. Several years later, a friend called about a pathetic pup that had been wandering her neighborhood. I went over at 11pm and saw this poor creature and couldn't resist. Red was a skeleton with skin and fur, a broken leg, worms, mange, mites, you name it. The more we fed him and he filled out, we realized he was a pit mix, probably with a bull mastiff. About the same time, my neighbors got their son a black lab mix puppy the same age as mine. Turns out the kid was under the impression that fighting pits were the thing to have and tried to train his lab mix to be one! Poor pup. After several months of trying to educate the boy, I finally took Blackie with the parents' permission. So here I sit, surrounded by all my furry monsters, wondering how in the world it came to all this. But I couldn't for the life of me imagine it any other way.