October 26, 2010

Back in my 20s, I was a full-fledged, card-carrying Humaniac.

That’s right.

I was not only a Humane Society volunteer and a board member, but for a while, I was president of the local Humane Society in the north Florida city in which I lived.

Once you’ve been around rescue animals, in an environment in which “dog breeders” are considered akin to the Taliban, it’s a big leap to actually buy a dog.

My rationale was that I wanted the kind of dog I wanted, when I wanted it, and to have a good idea of what that dog would be like.

I looked around and I found Riley’s breeder.

I got the first two objectives handled, but nothing could have prepared me for the bundle of energy, obstinance, brains, comedy and love that is Riley.

But back to “buying” a dog.

I was surprised that Riley was super-well-socialized when he arrived. He was raised in a family among other dogs and kids and he has always loved people.

No question that he’s the smartest dog I’ve ever had and clearly way smarter than I am.

I supposed that I had my preconceived notions about dog breeders but what I found was

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