The first dog I remember in my life was Corky.... didn't everybody have a dog named Corky?
I would greet him in the back yard, down the old concrete steps my dad built. He would always be wet from swimming in the barge canal. The matted fur of his coat was a testament to a dogs life: laying in the dirt and drying in the sun; and if there was a dead woodchuck nearby, all the better to roll in and absorb the delicious aroma.

There's and old saying: "I don't trust anyone who doesn't like a dog, but I trust a dog that doesn't like a person"