Like many dogs, Hoover (Ch. Silver Ridge Hurcane Hoov, CD, b. 7/1/87) is--and always will be--much more than a dog, or even a companion. He is my compadre, one of my closest companions, and a real pleasure to me at the end of each and every day. I must admit, however, that I--like many dog folks--have through these many years together made him over in my own image, with way too many of my own faults! We both absolutely hate fireworks (or any sudden, loud noise), we both worry needlessly about an endless number of things completely beyond our control, and we both like to eat ice cream (and other evil things) way too much. On the other hand, he shares my enthusiasm for long walks, frequent power naps, and chicken cooked any way you can think of. We also like pickup trucks, all kinds of other (nice!) dogs, and all kinds of other dog people--a lot! He is still a rather handsome man, though he's on in years, and I can still see the special beauty of his movement, though there's a couple of hitches in that getalong that didn't use to be there. Hoover is the first Black and Tan that I ever got to know, and, best of all, he is the one who chose me--by cuddling up to my left hip at the end of a long, hot day during which I couldn't make up my mind which little puppy I should take home. And the memories! Who could forget Harrisburg in 1988, when he (yes, Vicki, I know it wasn't Redbird!) ate all the edible (and some of the inedible) contents the of the Silver Ridge mobile! Oh yeah, and, if not for Hoover, I would never have met the most important person in my life. Thank you Hoover, and thank you Lisa! I love you both very much!