TANK
Tank is a male dog. He is one half American Mastiff, three eighths Great Pyrenees, one eighth Bulgarian Karakachan. My wife and I fell in love with him over Facebook when dear friends mentioned that their dog had puppies and one of them had been badly injured shortly after birth. We had been looking for a male dog to bring some life to our two elderly females, this seemed ideal if he survived. We did not ask the important questions about what made up Tank’s ancestry. We have learned, but we would never trade him. He is a gentle and silly soul. Brave in the face of overwhelming odds unless he is facing down a thirty-five pound elderly female dog that got him told early in life. At nine months, he is 140 pounds and he has a bark that sounds like artillery and drool like a Ridley Scott alien. He also sleeps with one or more stuffed toys every night and he would rather sit quietly in proximity to a child than be surrounded by a bevy of beautiful… well, female dogs.
Tank tracks warmed my heart.