a long way and many more dogs to go before I come close to that ideal.
To the post, all my dogs have picked me, I've never picked them. Your Dog is out there, waiting to find you. When the time is right, they WILL find you.
peace

and I had, his "chocolate" incident was just a minor to a bigger one you just called up in my memory through your admonishment.

Got my Shepard/Doberman mix just before my senior year of college from the family of a drummer peer of mine in my hometown. Was soon to find out he was the prefect dog for me. As every owner can attest they certainly do take on your personae to whatever extent dogs actually do pick up on these things. We were bonded by mischief, having a good time, and socializing. You can imagine the kinds of things he was exposed to in such an environment.

I might be on my way home from class and a visiting graduate friend would have let himself in so that when I came up to the door I would see my puppy on the 2nd floor roof looking precariously over. Other times he'd frequently be hustled away by a group of girls who would take him to a park somewhere.

But there were two incidents that stick out that always make me smile. Not yet a month or so old and we threw him in a half-cut cardboard box in Sept of my senior year to make the 4.5 hr trip upstate NY from LI. He was amazing, totally took to the van, the long trip, made no fuss. When me and my girlfriend finally go up there and were barely unpacked we get a call from my roommate saying he had broken down on the Palisades Pkwy, which is just outside of NYC, a 3 hr trip back down. We put the dog back in the box, made the trip back upstate and he obliged again, seeming to just relish the company and energy. Even though he had just spent an inordinate amount of time in a cardboard box during a long car trip he seemed to be saying I'm in solidarity with whatever you're about.

Some time shortly thereafter, as my girlfriend at the time was head over heels in love with this spirited little guy, she was watching him for the night while I had some commitment like band practice or something. I had come over to pick him up, but at some point she lost track of his whereabouts in those big slightly dilapidated quasi-Victorian homes that dot college towns. Our search led to finding him on all fours, on top of the dining room table, where she had just laid a fresh pan of chocolate brownies. His head was buried in it and gobbling the dessert down with gusto.

But that wasn't the big one.

Early one Sunday afternoon I woke up to my roommate smoking a bong in the tv room getting ready to watch the NFL. I was dealing a little weed then and we always had something around the house, even though I personally had quit smoking a few years before. When I walked in he asked if I had seen the little piece of hash he had on the table. No man, I just got up. Suddenly, it occurred to us both. The dog got it. Yup, Curious George must have swiped it right of the low table we had.

With anxiety and trepidation I grabbed his snout, put my nose to his, and...started to sweat. Shit, the puppy was now maybe four months old and he just ate a fucking chunk of hash! He couldn't have weighed more than 15-20lbs at the most. So, we waited. Sure and soon enough he started to exhibit signs.

First he began walking wobbly. Then peeing a little bit. After which he made whimpering noises. Poor guy. Of course as college kids we were amused and had confidence in his resiliency, having had watched his character develop. But the truth is we were a little scared too. Finally, he begins to have this stomach convulsions, stats to heave, and after a few of these, releases what looked like a fully formed shit out of his mouth. Of course, it was his body's way of rejecting the noxious drug the fastest way it could.

The poor guy basically conked out, curled up in a ball where he usually slept and was out like a light for hours. We were much relieved to see and feel him bounce back as soon as he had fully rested and slept of the high.

He was something else. Aside from the chocolate and hash incidents (and many more) he was such an intelligent, loyal, in tune, funny and jovial, mischievous guy. When I moved to Queens he would walk the street by himself, negotiating traffic, sidewalks and people all the time. One neighbor was so enamored of him that she would come by with fresh cold cuts and leave it on the doorhandle for him if I wasn't home, always adding, "he's smarter than most people." Neighborhood kids would actually knock on my door to "call" for him, to which I would always see if he was interested, which he mostly was, and he'd go and play with them. Petey had nothing on him.

Still dream about him, though I had to put him down over a decade ago, after having him for 15 1/2 years. Suffice to say he was there for a lot of my life, and different parts, always a central figure and friend and comfort to many who passed through my life. As far as I'm concerned chocolate and hash only enhanced his abundant, overflowing spirit.

that car - cow - dawg photo is amazing and surreal. What are they thinking?

You guys look like a great team.

And had a doctor in Marin and after my appointment, we'd go 'sploring. There's a waterfall in the middle of where people live in the middle of the redwoods and then I'd go down to Muir beach and instead of going home, I'd find a road to take and that's where I would get lost.
I can't remember the name of the county I got lost in once and didn't get home until after 2am.
It's somewhere between Muir beach area and Stinson beach. It was full of incredible scenery, rivers, bridges and of coarse, valley oaks.
I had a 15 foot trailer and would go to Bodega Bay as often as I could. I could basically camp on the beach and if I couldn't get a camping site, I would park in the parking lot for $5 a night.
Here's an view from the California coast website of Wright's beach which was 6 miles north of Bodega Bay.
I have photos of all those area on my website that is in my sigline.
I miss that area of California something fierce, but Utah has some great scenery too. But the great salt lake is nothing like the Pacific Ocean.
It's the waves that I miss.

also enjoy the people - if you treat dogs well, then you probably treat your fellow human well too. I love that dogs can run free on the beaches, which are all public.

          I was a student at Blue Mountain CC in Pendleton and that summer I needed something so as to not starve. The Operating Engineers were running a training camp teaching a large group from the Umatilla Reservation to run heavy equipment, and one of my teachers had a friend of a friend. After a couple of days the Surveyor of Record turned me into an instructor teaching the new operators to design roads and set stakes.

          A week later his friend of a friend hired me to work as a grade checker on the I-15 with Calabrese and Sons. I didn't last but a week. It turns out that knowing what is supposed to happen is not the same as actually doing it on the job site, and when operators nearly get killed they tend to get grumpy.