Rosie Dog Fowler came to us in July 1993--at a time when my partner and I were pining for a pup. Someone told us about this rather crazy dog at the pound whom they were going to kill the next day if someone didn't go get her, and maybe we'd want to go have a look. We immediately agreed that tomorrow would not be a good day for any four-legged thing to die, and being rather crazy ourselves, off we went on our date with fate. 

Once inside the pound, the attendant lead us through the doors, down the corridors, past the adoption kennels (where all the good dogs get to stay), and into a room full of cages, all of which were empty, it seemed. But, as we approached the far corner of the cavernous dungeon, the riveting barking began, louder and louder, and, as we rounded the corner, there we met our crazy girl, Rosie--amped up and backed tightly into the corner of her kennel. She was wild-eyed with barking and snarling--stopping only occasionally to give us the head tilt and a momentary inquisitive look. 

The attendant quickly excused himself and left us alone with this bellowing beast. We felt foolish trying to console the dog who was inconsolable, so we stopped trying; it was then in our silent moments of watching her carrying on like hell was steadily rising around her that it came to us with breath-taking clarity--we simply had to have her.

A few months later in 1994, came Elliot Tucker Clark, and in the Spring of 1999, came Rocket Cosmo Clark.

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