Woof!  (Canine, not ursine although I like ursine woofies too...)

Yeah, here's old Bunch.  He's part of the picture I'm afraid.  We met at the Blue Mist Motel in Florence Arizona across the road from the state pen  in 1996.  He was a little lost puppy with enormous ears.  I was on the payphone in the parking lot when he came around the corner.  It was love at first site.  His calm intelligence and spirit were obvious.  I had wanted a dog for decades but always I had been too mobile, lived in apartments, not had a life situation conducive...  but right there I knew immediately, ready or not, now I had a dog.  Which was quite a swallow actually.

Anyway, I had him named in 30 seconds: Honey Bunch.. Which he outgrew pretty quick (being a big boy at 90 lbs!) and he's just Bunch.

Poor Bunches comes from very  humble roots.  A few weeks after we eloped, some hillbillies stopped me at the Circle K and asked me where I got my pup -- turns out he was one of theirs.  Their dog had 11 puppies that they took down to Animal Control one day.  The pound was closed so they dumped them.  Coyote food.  They informed me his mother was part Irish Wolfhound (I looked down at Bunch with suspicion... how big is he going to get?!) and his father was 'a travelling salesman'.

Anyway, Bunch has been a faithful companion and an anchor.  He's also a responsibility I have that sometimes restricts what I can do or where I can go.  If I'm to go out for more than half a day I have to find child care which ain't always easy!!!