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DANVILLE, CALIFORNIA--Getting the dog was Michelle's idea. She is our youngest of three daughters and the only bleeding heart tree-hugger in our otherwise conservative family. When she developed her dog interest a few years ago at age nine, my husband and I went along with it simply because we were relieved to be done with gloomy subjects like rain forest depletion and the latest creature to qualify for endangered-species status. We encouraged her to purchase every dog volume Barnes & Noble offered, figuring a roomful of books on pups would be uplifting and surely as good as the real thing. Then one day she let it slip to Dr. Berman that she knew all about dogs.
Dr. Berman is the Mister Rogers of local pediatricians. He wears funky sweaters and has a soft twang like Fred.
"Tell me, Michelle," he asked, drawing his words out long and slow as he tapped her right knee with his reflex hammer. "What dogs do you know about?"
"Which group?" Michelle asked, swallowing hard and clearing her throat. "I mean, there's the Sporting Dogs, Hounds, Working Dogs, Terriers, Toys, Non-Sporting Dogs, Herding Dogs ..."
Dr. Berman glanced over his shoulder at me, ever so pleased with the direction the conversation was taking.
"Wow, Michelle. I have a dog myself. He's a Springer Spaniel."
"Sporting Dog," she said, smiling from one dimpled cheek to the other.
Source: HighBeam Research, Gone to the dogs. (In real life: first-person America).(Brief Article)