The first dog I loved, was, by coincidence, one of the great dogs of the western world. Mutt was a typical yellow guy of indeterminate parentage, short-haired and on the lean, lanky side, his name being indicative of some of that. He climbed onto an Army Jeep in Truro, Nova Scotia, sometime in the latter days of World War II. The soldiers may have befriended him in town and coaxed him to come along….or, Mutt may simply have had his own agenda.