Hitchcock – 8 weeks old
The last time I had a dog, I was way too young to really appreciate it, and actually I don’t remember much about him.
In September of 2002 I adopted an 8-week-old puppy from the animal shelter and named him Hitchcock (after Alfred, the film director). He’s a Dalmatian / Husky mix, which basically means that other than being black & white and exquisitely soft and fuzzy, he doesn’t resemble either breed all that much.
When I adopted him, I made myself a few promises. I swore I wouldn’t talk baby-talk to him. I promised myself I wouldn’t feed him Doritos when I was having some. I told myself I wouldn’t get overly sentimental and schmoozy over him like other dog owners do over their dogs.
Of course, every one of those pledges went right out the window the instant he came into the house for the first time.
He’s grown to be an outstandingly sensitive, loving, playful, perfectly-behaved dog, and his ability to sense my moods and react accordingly is something that astonishes me to this day.
He is, without question, the very best friend I’ve ever had.