Blackie was one whom could be considered dumber than a box of rocks. He was a black standard "mut." When I was a child, my parents had to keep on a leash inside of the house because he would do anything to escape outside. He could frequently be found at a neighbor's home spralled out in front of a warm fireplace. He was a well mannered animal except for the occasional accident on the floor. My mother used to make up stories about how Blackie had an imaginary friend, and each day of the week Blackie would speak with a different letter of the English alphabet. Yes, this is very fictional ideas, but it was fun and made us enjoy our pet even more. A few years before his death, he was struck by a plow truck. Fortunately, he survived and my mother hand fed him until he got back to normal (whatever you want to consider normal.) He was with the family since I was a very young child, and we have many good memories of him. I can remember how he hated baths; however, when he was finished, he would run all over the house and shake himself dry. Slightly before his death, he experienced a stroke. This took a big toll on him for his health declined. My parents chose to have him put to sleep, for I still wish we could have seen if there was anything to do for him. He was old in age, and it was probably for the best. I will always remember this dog. We love you Blackie!