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And this is her. She is from a shelter in rural Virginia. Doesn’t she look like she just stepped off the set of “Deliverance?” And yet she’s a big silly doofus. We named her Dolly because it’s just such a ridiculously appropriate name for the goofball. She is respectful of my cats to an almost humiliating degree; she literally bows down to them when they walk by. Even they seem embarrassed for her. They tell me she is six, but I think she’s younger given the goofy puppy behaviour she’s been exhibiting in the three days since we’ve had her.

To whit:

1. She has totally ripped through a brand-new box of Tampax, apparently just for entertainment purposes, and strewn them all over the house.
2. She has huge feet that she trips over.
3. When you take her for a walk and you want to go in the opposite direction from where she wants to go, she just lies down on the pavement and rolls over on her back.
4. Ditto when she runs into kids. She melts into the pavement in bliss.
5. She is a hog who is obsessed with food. Tonight I caught her practically inside the dishwasher licking plates and utensils. I have also twice caught her on her hind legs trying to get stuff off the counter. She succeeded once and had a bag of coffee in her jaws that I pried out.

In short, she is a funny hound dog who makes us laugh. Even the cats seem amused by her, and they’ve never been around a dog. Dolly just gives up a big mellow goof vibe, despite what sounds like a hard life — heartworm infection, a hunter who mistreated her, a burn mark on her side, a miserable rural life. She’s living on Easy Street now.