I went through a lot of dogs when I was a kid.
I don't remember my first dog that much, but I remember his name was Tiger, I remember that he was a mutt, and I remember my dad let him out, he ran into the street, and got run over by a car.
The next dog I remember having was a beagle. My dad named him Macho Man. We all called him Macho for short. My fondest memory of that dog is waking up in the middle of the night to free his rear paw after he got it stuck in his collar while scratching his ear in his sleep. That dog howled like a banshee that night, so I let him sleep with me. My dad let him out one day, he ran into the street and got hit by a car.
The next dog was a Golden/Lab mix by the name of Moose. As a puppy, he was 3 feet at the shoulder if he was an inch, black which a starburst of white fur on his chest. I adored that dog, even though one day I pissed him off ROYALLY and he bit my lip in half. I still have the scar. I was mad at him for a while after that, but I came to the conclusion that it was my fault, so I forgave. One day after school, I came home and was told that my dad had let him out and he'd run in the street and got his by a car.
Seeing a pattern yet?
Funny thing is, 2 or 3 years later, a black dog with a white starburst on his chest came up to my back porch one evening while I was cooking dinner. Big sucker, too. I'm pretty sure he was at least 4 feet tall. I just laughed, let him in, fed him, hugged him,let him lick my face and sent him on his way. Hrm.
The last dog I owned was a chocolate brown cocker spaniel my aunt couldn't take care of anymore. My cousin Cameron called him Brownie, but everybody else called him Trouble P. Funk, or Trouble for short. We had some times, me and that dog. I tried to keep his fur neat, but not give him that cocker spaniel cut (I hate that look) but it was almost impossible. It would always get matted. When his fur grew out though, he almost looked like a fuzzy chocolate lion. Our favorite pasttime was just running. That dog LOVED to run. There was a school really close to my house and we would just run through the football field, the baseball and soccer field and down by the concrete pond the school had built. On summer days, we would just lay around on the little slope by the school and sun ourselves. Well, I would; he would run around me, roll around some, lick me, lay down for a bit then start running around some more.
Pop has this thing about how dogs should be outdoors and made a pen for him to stay in, but Trouble hated it. He figured out how to climb over the fence and we'd always find him at the back door the next day. I remember one Saturday the football team was scrimmaging, and my mom was at the back door talking on the phone. She had opened the door and was standing at the storm door looking out, as she likes to do while talking. Trouble saw the football team, burst out of the door(mom hadn't bolted it), ran across our neighbors yard, and leapt over the fence into the football field. One of the players panicked and took off down the field, with Trouble in hot pursuit. The fence at the other end was a high one and the kid hit it and turned around with his back to the fence, looking at this cocker spaniel with sheer terror. Trouble caught up to him, stopped, barked at him 3 times, then turned around, ran back across the field, jumped back over the fence and came back in the house, while the rest of the team and the coach broke into hysterical laughter.
I'll give you three guesses what happened to him.
After that, my mother refused to let us get any more dogs. She said her heart couldn't take losing another one. I wish I had some pictures or something to remember them by. Memories will have to do.