Arf <ticka> Arf


from Roger M. Wilcox's biography

When I was 7 years old, deep in the middle of the night before Christmas, I was awakened by the sound of a whimpering dog. I assumed it was a neighbor's dog, and went back to sleep. But that morning, we discovered a big package under our Christmas tree with holes in it. My dad had gotten the family a puppy for Christmas! He was a little dog, with curly, steel-wool-like fur, not yet a year old.

We didn't have a name for this little dog yet. So until we figured out a real name for him, we just called him "Puppy."

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