Boz Dickens

Today is Charles Dickens' 200th birthday. Any excuse to post photos of Boz! Some folks think our pooch was named for Mr. Scaggs, but no. Although I like that Boz, the dirty lowdown is we named ours for Mr. Dickens, whose little brother nicknamed him Boz.

Note the similarities:

As a youngster Dickens had to fend for himself, working long hours in a shoe blacking factory. Our little Boz lived on the street before he came to us, fending for himself for we don't know how long. It might have been months. It might have been a whole afternoon. No one knows the truth except Boz, and even if he remembers he tends to exaggerate.

Either way he was an urchin of genius, as evidenced by, uh, well, I'm sure he was. And although he may never reach the heights of fame achieved by his namesake, he's a well-known dog about town and about the web.

Dickens became a distinguished writer. Boz can distinguish between a Greenie and a Milk Bone. (But why would anyone bother?)

I sometimes wonder if he ever thinks back on the days of his youth, when life was simple and fame was fleeting. I have my doubts. But he does have memories, however vague. He knows he likes big, muscular guys who smoke cigarettes and sport tattoos (previous owner?). He knows he's afraid of the hose (someone who scared him when he lived on the street?). And at this very moment, he might be reminiscing about yesterday when he suffered the terrifying ordeal of a bath and received a pig ear for being a good boy.