In Memoriam         Max, the Rottweiller, didn't exactly fit the stereotype this breed has become known for.   He was more of the couch potato, clown type.  Max showed up under my brother's truck at 4:30 one morning as he was leaving for work.   We shared a house at the time, and that morning I heard galloping through the house.  I got up to see what it was, and there was Max sitting in the middle of my brother's bed.  I took one look and said, "I think you have to keep him now."  My brother was clear that he was going to find a home for him.  He didn't have the time for a dog.    Well, Max not only stayed but got a name and my brother's heart.  They were soul mates.      Max was pretty much starving to say the least.  He didn't know how to eat really.  He would go in the yard and pick up things and crunch them. I didn't realize at the time that he had been surviving that way and had not been getting any food.  I took him to the vet, I had the most time then, but it wasn't until a year later that I realized that the vet didn't think he would do very well health wise, maybe even not survive.  He was pretty malnourished when my brother found him.  We tried dog food at first, but he just had diarrhea all the time. My mother decided if he was going to survive she would have to cook for him.   He became a beautiful dog with an amazing coat and an angelic disposition.         He was truly the happiest spirit you could ever meet.    Max had an incurable and aggressive form of cancer that I hope one day the scientists find a cure for.

Max was a good sport about the reindeer ears but would rather challenge you to a game of soccer.