C.R.

C.R.
C.R. was born sometime in late January or early February 1981. Rumor has it that his father was a purebred Afghan and that his mother was not, but no one really knows for sure. We first met him while he was visiting a neighbor-he must of been around 4 months old. An extremely handsome and polite puppy, he carried himself with grace, as if he knew that his veins ran with ancient blood. Our cul-de-sac became his kingdom and he conducted court as if he were red-haired Charlemagne. He would drive out invading strays and keep the peace amongst our canine population. His owners, aware of his independence, would leave him to his own devices when-ever they left town. On such evenings he would stroll the block, accepting dinner invitations from various neighbors. He would eat and have a warm nap by the heater, then, as the evening deepened, he would go to the door, demanding to return to his protectorate. If you left your car windows down you were likely to find him asleep in the driver's seat when you came out in the morning. He was a warm and friendly dog, and the whole neighborhood was sad when his owners moved to another part of town. The block was a sadder place for about a week, but then C.R. returned. He went door to door,letting everyone know that he was back. That evening, his owners came and fetched him back to his new home. But the next day he was back. This went on for a few weeks until it became apparent that he was not going to accept his new neighborhood. After much discussion, it was determined that he would come to live with us. It was decided that if C.R. was to survive in today's complex world, he needed to be nurtured. This done, he stayed around home a little more, but he still had all the bad habits of a sight hound. On the trail, he would spot a target way off in the distance, and he would take off in a straight line, running full blast, deterred by nothing. Luckily, his friendly nature made the chase all he was interested in, but to see a large, flame-red dog come running past you at full speed was quit an experience for local hikers and their pets. Today C.R. is fifteen years old, which is almost ancient for an Afghan. He is happy and still gets around quite well.

C.R.

   C.R. was born sometime in late January or early February 1981. Rumor has it that his father was a purebred Afghan and that his mother was not, but no one really knows for sure.
   We first met him while he was visiting a neighbor-he must of been around 4 months old. An extremely handsome and polite puppy, he carried himself with grace, as if he knew that his veins ran with ancient blood. Our cul-de-sac became his kingdom and he conducted court as if he were red-haired Charlemagne. He would drive out invading strays and keep the peace amongst our canine population.
   His owners, aware of his independence, would leave him to his own devices when-ever they left town. On such evenings he would stroll the block, accepting dinner invitations from various neighbors. He would eat and have a warm nap by the heater, then, as the evening deepened, he would go to the door, demanding to return to his protectorate. If you left your car windows down you were likely to find him asleep in the driver's seat when you came out in the morning. He was a warm and friendly dog, and the whole neighborhood was sad when his owners moved to another part of town.
   The block was a sadder place for about a week, but then C.R. returned. He went door to door,letting everyone know that he was back. That evening, his owners came and fetched him back to his new home. But the next day he was back. This went on for a few weeks until it became apparent that he was not going to accept his new neighborhood.
   After much discussion, it was determined that he would come to live with us. It was decided that if C.R. was to survive in today's complex world, he needed to be nurtured. This done, he stayed around home a little more, but he still had all the bad habits of a sight hound. On the trail, he would spot a target way off in the distance, and he would take off in a straight line, running full blast, deterred by nothing. Luckily, his friendly nature made the chase all he was interested in, but to see a large, flame-red dog come running past you at full speed was quit an experience for local hikers and their pets.
   Today C.R. is fifteen years old, which is almost ancient for an Afghan. He is happy and still gets around quite well.