A coupla things I love about my dog:
He doesn’t run away. Occasionally, of course, he’ll freak when a deer is in the neighborhood, but otherwise he sticks close to home and you don’t have to worry about him bolting out the door as soon as it opens.
He loves riding in the car.
He’s a basset hound, which means he’s simply funny as hell to look at.
Here’s his homepage, although it needs updating.
Lately, when I get home and dog is at the door waiting for me, I think of a bumper sticker I saw not too long ago:
Help me to be the person my dog thinks I am.
I try. I fail, but I try.
He’s dead.
Well, I could list all the aspects to her that make her special, but it would sound like lots of dogs. The way I know that my dog is the best is this: my best friend does not like dogs. She does not like any animals really, and she would take Maggie in a heartbeat, she says so all the time.
Also, my sisters, who have dogs that are pretty damn cool. teased me when i would tell them that I had an amazing and wonderful dog, saying that everyone says that.
Then they met her. And now they agree…she is a pretty amazing and wonderful dog.
Trust me when I tell you that I do not have the vocabulary to express the depth and nature of my love for this dog. She is truly a delight in every particular. There is nothing about her that I (or, most tellingly) anyone else finds remotely objectionable, and a long list of things that we all find incredibly endearing.
I recently came to realize, though, that a large part of what makes her so special is simply that she is extremely intelligent, combined with a calm yet very playful nature, and a strong desire to please. This combination makes for a truly fabulous dog.
And maggie is it…
For pictures…see:
http://www.stoid.com/snow/maggiesnowday.htm
and
http://www.stoid.com/maggie/maggie.htm
And by the way, if you look at the pictures, she is a purebred golden retriever that wears a puppy buzz cut cuz I don’t like dealing with the hair.
Maggie is the love of my life. I feel for her as others feel for their children. And if you met her, you’d understand why.
PS: The pictures of the other dogs are wonderful. I love lilly in her bed. And Bassets are just inherently cool.
Can I see the data, please? Because I have a strong suspicion that it would contradict my data… 
Oh, and Stoid? Those are some of the cutest pictures I’ve ever seen! And yours, OcularGold! [sub]Can you tell I have a soft spot for Golden Retrievers? (Like Milo!)[/sub]
I must agree with Lindy, on this one Jane. I invite you to check out my previous post with the link. Hands down, after Mr. Winkel, (do a google search, he’s worth it), Lilly is the cutest. Her personality is amazing. She has yet to meet anyone immune to her charms.
Miss Emily Kimberly, 1988-1999, was the absolute best dog in the world. We’re talking springer spaniel extraordinaire. She had more personality thatn a lot of people I know. Her urn rests on our piano, so she can always be with us, and we will love her until the end of time.
But her worthy successor, Miss Phyllis Potter, is running a close race. How do we love her? Let us count the ways:
She’s got such a cute, funny face… Especially when her tongue is hanging out the side of her closed mouth.
She’s an excellent dancer and can turn two circles on her hind legs.
She has a graceful, long, slender body with eminently pettable silky fur.
She is a joy to watch during her daily walks around the back of our barn. Run, run, run – with the occasional extra joyous spring/bounce, just for fun. They say they’re called springers because they spring game, but I know better. It’s because they have springs in the bodies, like Tiggers.
There is nothing better after a long, boring, stressful day than to lie on the couch and get Phyllised. Instant therapy, cures all your ills.
Her favorite place to sleep and snuggle is on the bed, close in between Mr. S and me, belly up, in a menage a dog of sorts. Since we’re under the covers and she’s on top, this usually leave my butt out in the cold air because she’s stolen the covers. And I don’t care.
There’s nothing like having your bare toes licked under the desk as you work. Trust me.
In short, when you have the late great Miss Emily watching over you from the piano, and a crazy Phyllistine lovin’ you up on the couch, your life is Good.
Exsqueeze me…did you LOOK at maggie? Is there anything more adorable than her eating snowballs or killing a hedgehog? No, there is not!
And by the way…you may touch my hand…the hand that actually fed Mr. Winkle!
And Scarlett, your link doesn’ t work.
stoid
OOOPS.
I apologize for being insanely stupid. Never mind. 
My dog Poochie, God rest his soul, was the smartest dog on the face of the Earth.
If you asked him how bark on a tree felt, he said “Rough”. If you asked him what was on top of a house, he said “Roof”. And best of all, he could do math. If you asked him what one minus one was, he’d say “Nothing”.
Ducks and runs to avoid the flying tomatoes
No, really, he was alive for 18 years at least. We found him when I was three and he died when I was 21. He was a part of the family for me.
Best of all was how we found him. He bit my older sister on the street, so we kept him. Anyone who would bite my sister can’t be all bad.
My parents have two dogs, Dixie (a German shepherd) and Floozy (a silky terrier).
Dixie is the smartest dog on the planet. She generally doesn’t need to learn the same lesson more than once, and she knows who’s friendly and who’s not. If we’re OK around someone, she keeps a watchful eye, but if she thinks you’re going to hurt us, she’ll take your arm off.
Floozy is just funny. She’s about sixteen now, and we’ve had her since she was a puppy. She looks kinda like a tribble and does a good job of keeping Dixie in line. At my parents’ house, the alpha dog is Floozy. Imagine a seven-pound terrier bossing a 90-lb shepherd around.
Robin
Dang, Stoid, you’re right. There’s supposed to be a picture of Miss Phyllis there. Can’t think of why they’d have killed my page (I paid my bill!) – must contact ISP tomorrow! :mad:
I didn’t say that Maggie wasn’t at least in the top 5.
and I must say that’s is nice to know that Zac isn’t the only dog who lives for snowballs. 'Course after you throw one and it lands in the snow, he sticks his whole head in the snow to find it, then he just ‘surfaces’ chewing and looks confused because the ball has DISAPPERED!!
I swear he can never figure it out. He also is a firm believer that the vacuum cleaner is the Anti-Christ and the squirels are demons that must ALL DIE.
Lilly is the rare little dog that doesn’t have the Neapoleonic/Joe Pesci like attitude. She knows exactly how big she is (12lbs) and is afraid of just about everything. Excepting people and food. I take her to nursing homes sometimes and she has soo much fun. Once when we went on Christmas Eve Day we got there just in time for ice cream. Now, these are elderly people. Sometimes the don’t get the food 'exactly in their mouth’s but Lilly made sure every she visited that day, had a clean face when she left.
BTW Stoid did you even SEE Lilly? She has been said to be ‘criminally cute’ Ask Geobabe or Bunnygirl.
also, Mr. Winkle and Lilly are pen pals. Just friends…really…she’s not that kind of girl.
Because he’s my special little snuffy-snuffers, the bestest of all the best boys there is.
Cassie (Labrador Retriever) is the best because she’s adorable. And she’s about to evolve thumbs. (She can open doors and lock them, she can open the refrigerator, and she has what appears to be an unlimited ‘vocabulary’ - she’s up to roughly 100 words and has no trouble learning more, even the ones we don’t teach her.)
She’s playful and sweet and warm and soft, and even though she has more energy than any eight two-year-old humans, when I fall asleep on her she holds real still until I wake up on own.
Her motto is “Life is ALL good.” She stands by it. She loves the vet - he may do painful things to her, but he is a person and therefore good. She loves our neighbors. She loves my father. She loves every person and dog she sees. (And despises all cats, which is convenient, as I am allergic to them.)
Brick (Greyhound) is the best because he has the outlook of Dorothy Parker and the brain of a doughnut inside the body of a supermodel. He exerts all of his brain cells - six at last count - to just two ends: getting petted and getting food. He never gets enough of either.
He’s quiet and soft and sleeps most of the time. He hasn’t figured out pet life yet - not exactly - but he’s trying.
His motto is “What fresh hell is this?” He doesn’t like change, probably because it taxes his mental resources - and, coincidentally, I don’t like change either, for precisely the same reason. Everyone likes Brick and wants to pat him, and he’s more than willing to meet them halfway.
But most of all, they are the best because they are MY dogs - I remember Cassie as a tiny, hyperkinetic puppy who put holes in everything and slept in my lap like an angel instead of the demon we all knew she was. I remember Brick on the day we took him home, when his nose dripped because he was so nervous and he had to press right up against me for comfort. And I remember them yesterday, when nothing special happened but they rejoiced anyway - over me, over bowls of kibble and broccoli, over toys and life in general. They are better at living than I am, but they’re teaching me a lot.
I’ll never have better companions or better friends.
And that is why they are the best dogs in the world.
Awwwwww. I love this thread.
My pooch really is the one who broke the mold. She’s a big dog–70 lbs.–half Shepherd/half black Lab. She has the chiseled, elegant, coal black Shep face and ears; a thick ruff, silky black/brindle coat–and four white paws. And absolutely the merriest, happiest eyes you’ve ever seen.
She looks so imposing and she’s a total doofus. She has a sunny soul. She doesn’t run, she scampers like a puppy, pushing off with both hind feet at the same time. She turns into a Mighty Hunter, fearlessly stalking box elder bugs that get into the house. She rolls and romps like a puppy. (She’s 8.) Funnier than hell in such a big, dignified looking pooch.
She VERY rarely barks. (When she does it’s a ferocious bass rumble that startles her.) Instead she croons, mumbles, warbles–“dinosaur noises!” She loves to bat with her front paws, tapping me to get attention or play. When she snuggles she wraps both front paws around my arm or foot, hugging whatever she can reach.
She LOVES it when I sing “Brown Eyed Girl” to her.
The pooch and I just plain crazy about each other. We’re a pack of two.
Veb
Did you read that book too? I just finished it a month ago, and I really dug it.
::smiles::
Yup! Great read and (obviously) parts of it got stored in the cluttered attic that passes for my brain.
We really ARE a pack.
(Da Pooch somehow sensed I was writing about her again. She just woke up from where she’s curled around my feet, yawned–LOUD dinosaur noise–and now has her head wedged between my knees, smiling at me and getting her silly, silky head stroked.)
Veb