Newman was the sweetest, fun-loving, dog that I ever met. He lived just to get outside and play fetch with his soccer ball or just going for a nice long walk. He quickly learned that if he stood at the neighbors' doors that they would answer with a tasty treat. The neighborhood kids never seemed to know my name, but they definitely knew where "Newman" lived. He never showed a single sign of aggression even after getting bitten on his head by a loose Dalmatian. Above all else, he lived to be loved by myself, my husband and anyone else who ever met him.

Newman was a really bad youngster. I only worked a couple hours a day then, he wasn't crated but gated with free reign to our kitchen and den. Everyday when I came home something else was destroyed. He tore up wallpaper. Ate through our drywall to the studs. Chewed on all of our furniture and ripped up all of our pillows on the couches.

I went in the house for a minute one day after planting about 30 tulip bulbs. When I went back outside, all of the bulbs were dug up and pulled from the ground.

I would never get angry at him. I would just look at him and say "What did you do?" and that was enough said.

Summer sprinkler fun...