Best. Dog. Ever.

Yesterday we took our dogs to Ross Dog Park, Vancouver's off leash area. We should go there more often since the dogs are always so happy to get out of their own yard, see some other dogs and hang with the kids. Our bigger dog, Shasta, wouldn't leave my side while I walked the entire perimeter of the 8 acre park. How supportive, how encouraging. And that's one of the reasons she wins the title of Best Dog Ever.

I've pretty much always had dogs. When I was a tot, we had Gretchen and Lady, both German Shepards. Then as a kid and teen there was Java, a black lab, and Donna, a wacky little spaniel. My first host family in Finland had two dogs: Helmi (Pearl) the chow who hated all my American friends and Rouska whose name means "Trash" and always got a laugh from people on the street.

When The Star was tiny and we bought our first house, we thought a dog was a good idea. We rescued Zoe-dog (not to be confused in later stories with her friend Zoe) from a place in Topeka. She was spayed and free, which is as good as it gets for a rescued dog. By the time The Magician was born, it was obvious that she was not a good fit for our family. Zoe was a Border Collie and would herd The Star around the backyard. She had a scary, low growl that was a warning whenever the kids came near her. I took her to obedience classes and the dog training expert admitted that we'd never know if she was safe with the kids until she snapped, or maybe didn't. She was a great dog--for a family with older kids and a farm. I'm sure that's where she is now.

Enter Russell. The Artist grew up with dachshunds--which isn't as funny as saying you have a weiner dog--so that's what we got. He cost us $100 and is purebred, but without papers. He's also dumb as a stump. But hilarious. Russell eats everything. I thought raccoons were invading the backyard at our last house and eating the fallen apples. Then we caught Russell having a healthy snack. In 1998, the summer of the 17-year cicadas, our backyard was nearly bug-free. Yup, Russell ate all those bugs as they emerged from the ground all soft and squishy. Talk about bad breath!

In 1996 I took the kids to see some llamas in Leavenworth. I LLOVE llamas. So furry, so intelligent, so comical, so inquisitive. But I digress...

The llama ranchers had found a dog and her nine (!) puppies on their property, probably dumped by someone who didn't want a pregnant dog. They'd found homes for all the puppies, but still had the mama dog living in their barn. We couldn't have a llama, but we went back a month later and brought home that stray dog. Shasta is everything a dog should be--smart, loyal, protective, comforting. She has uncanny eyesight and "super canine powers of perception." She does have two faults: doghair explodes from her at all times of the year and she's horribly afraid of loud noises, especially fireworks, thunder and gun shots. Early July is very difficult for her.

As much as I like our dogs, however, I'm starting to imagine life without them. Shasta is about 13 and Russell is 11. They're getting to be old. It's most obvious with Russell, who is like a grumpy old man now--grey around the muzzle and thick around the middle. Someday, and a sad day it will be, we'll have to say goodbye. And when we do, I'm not sure I'm going to be quick to replace them.

Just like with kids, there's a lot of responsibility that comes with pet ownership. In seven years, when The Magician graduates from high school, I don't want to be in the early stages of owning a dog. I'll be just 43 and would like to try something new. Like living in a big city. San Francisco anyone?