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My Best Friend, My Mixed Breed Dog

© Deborah Kompare

It was a dark and stormy night (to quote one of our favorite beagle authors!)... Well, actually it was not night; it was a cold, very snowy afternoon and we had an unexpected blizzard that blanketed the city with enough snow to paralyze traffic. People were getting out of their vehicles in the middle of the street and walking to any warm place they could find. I was at school, and could walk to my apartment, so off I trudged. It was beautiful! There was a soft, smooth blanket of snow covering everything and the temperature was not that cold. I was enjoying the sights and sounds of this unexpected snowstorm.

To get home, I had to walk through a large park, and through the golf course that was there. Since no one else was braving the weather, I was the first to walk through this untouched wonderland-the only thing missing was some trees or bushes to add more to the already frosted landscape. As I continued my trek home, I suddenly got a lump in my throat. This was not due to the beauty of the area, which was breathtaking, but due to the fact that coming toward me, at a fast pace, was a big, black dog. I looked around and there were no other people, and no place to hide. My mind raced with ideas on what to do, if this dog was not friendly.

He came prancing right up to me and begged to play. We tossed snowballs and added our footprints to the snowy canvas. After playing for a while, I continued home, with my new friend following me. By that time, neighbors were out shoveling snow and I asked all that I saw if they knew the owners of this dog. No one knew, and no one tried to claim him. He followed me right into my apartment and made himself comfortable.

Fortunately, I had a very understanding roommate, who was thrilled to have a dog visit. Well, as you probably guessed, that visit turned into a very long one. I searched hard for his owners, because this was a magnificent dog, trained to all basic commands (except come-as evidenced by him running off from his previous owner and a command I was never able to teach him), affectionate, friendly and a beautiful, all black, German shepherd (as far as I could tell). We were blessed to have him stay with us, and I was doubly blessed to be able to keep him, once school let out. We named him Aristotle because he looked, and acted, in such an intelligent manner. Of course, over time, he acquired the nicknames of Moose and Butch, as his true personality blossomed.