Oh my God, Alto! Your wicked wit! Too funny! Poor Katie, indeed :(

Before my ex (and still good friend) and I split, we adopted huge difficult to place dogs. At one point we had a Shepherd Chow mix (alternately sugar and pure Satan), the only alpha aggressive female Newfoundland I’ve ever met, a submissive and shell-shocked Malamute and an ancient Lab who had just enough piss and vinegar in him to pull me down and break my arm.

I cannot count the number of times I became airborne, walking those dogs! Or unintentionally cold-cocked while leaning in for a kiss as they suddenly noticed a coyote in the distance.

When Danny and I split up, I took the cats and sadly left the dogs with him. We knew they’d be happier on his 2–1/2 acre compound than my new enchanted but tiny cottage. By then, 3 of the aforementioned 4 dogs had passed and there were 2 new rambunctious Newfies.

The cats may be bank-robbing escaped felons, but they have never landed me in the hospital.