One day my dog walker said “Hey, maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but there is an American Foxhound at the Burbank Pound.” I had always wanted an American Foxhound. At first I kept him at the vet for a week and walked him every day. I couldn’t stand to be separated, so I brought him home. He’s a loud and raucous partygoer around the other canon folk, but he’s quiet and meditative at home, just like me. He’s the joy of my life. When my friend Sonia looked at him she said, “Oh, He’s a giant beagle!” I said, with pride, “No, he’s a Foxhound.”