They used to call me Gary when I was at the pound. I weighed 90 pounds when they took me in at the pound, but only 75 when I moved to my new home. I wasn't very happy, and I wasn't eating well. I've started to regain a little weight.

They called me a stray. Hmmph. Like I would stray off.

I am exceedingly affectionate, but I am so well-mannered that I refuse to get on furniture or eat off the coffee table. I don't even knock things over with my tail.

But other dogs need to acknowledge that I am in charge. I rarely bark at all, but sometimes I give a quiet growl or even a single arf to let pups know I mean business. The dog next door has no manners whatsoever, and came over and peed in my back yard. I didn't (and don't) like that, so I have started to bark aggressively at him to let him know of my displeasure.

I'm a husky mix. Not a malamute mix. Not a siberian husky mix. An alaskan husky mix. The AKC doesn't recognize alaskan huskies, because it's run by people who are jealous of my genetic makeup. My relatives have the muscular strength, the stamina, and the intelligence to run the Iditarod. Other dogs would die trying.

I'm trying to get the guy who lives with me to buy me a dog sleigh. It's not that he needs to go anywhere in the snow. In fact, it doesn't snow much here. But dagnabbit, I deserve my own sleigh.

If you're not lead dog, the scenery never changes - but I see all the scenery there is to see. I even bully the woman I live with into taking me for rides in the car all the time. It's not as fulfilling as pulling a sleigh, but it will do.

What does the Food & Drug Administration say about pentobarbitol in animal food?