Back in the late 70s, I came back from Europe to a changed family structure. My sister had found a new beau and with him came a love of Red Doberman Pinschers. When they bought a house of their own, they also acquired a pair of pinschers and began breeding them.
When I returned from one of my many trips to some strange, out of the way part of the world, I met the pair of dogs for the first time. They immediately took me and I to them.
My sister's house was on the south side of Chicago and although not a rough neighborhood, not many people wandered the streets and alleys of the area at night. However, my sister never feared to do so when she went for a walk with Rommel and Dancer.
Nor did I. I loved those dogs as if they were my own and during the week or so I was back in town, those beautiful animals treated me as if I was their one and only. They were so attached to me, that my sister once said Dancer (the female) would mope around the house for about week after I left and Rommel (the male) would be sad for about a day.
And I always enjoyed seeing their smiling faces when I returned.
The pair are long gone now, but I still miss them. The photo below is the only photo I carry in my wallet. Thats Rommel in the middle and Dancer on the right. And of course, me on the left.
