I had always been partial to cats over dogs . . .

. . . but Eddie's a dog guy to the core who began nudging me toward canine adoption outlets from the day we set up housekeeping.

I resisted for years because I didn't like the idea of having to escort a dog outside for walks during icy New York winters. But Eddie was such a prince during the long period when Stuck Rubber Baby turned our home into stress city that I yielded out of sheer gratitude to his long-standing dog desires once my graphic novel was finally finished in 1994.

See Foxy playing with her Vermont friend Cloud.
Of course, once we brought Foxy home from the North Shore Animal League on Long Island, I fell as instantly and sappily in love with her as Eddie did. I also became a compulsive cruiser of every dog I pass on the street.
At right:
See Foxy graciously allowing herself to be pleasured by her admirers.
During Foxy's first cancer episode a hospital worker asked Eddie if she suffers from any chronic disabilities.

He replied, "Yes. She's stupid."

That was put more bluntly than absolutely necessary, but Eddie and I have come to realize that Foxy's assets (and they are many) lie in realms beyond the intellectual.

For example, she is able to sleep in positions that cannot conceivably be comfortable. I should be so talented, dozingwise!

Look! Predator Foxy once captured a "wild bird" (otherwise known as a feather duster) and dismembered it all over the kitchen floor.

(Note the lovely Vera linoleum design Eddie and I inherited from an earlier tenant.)

At right:
Foxy likes to keep her options open when it comes to deciding whether to be indoors or outdoors.
Above: Foxy's second favorite pastime (after napping).
Above: Ever the stagestruck pup, Foxy insisted on making cameo appearances in a number of my illustrations and comic book stories.

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