When you met him for the first time you sensed it immediately, he was proud of himself. In fact, I always suspected that his own assessment of his self-worth was highly exaggerated.

His name was Puddles. He was a dog, although he would have denied this vehemently, and even I wondered if this was the right classification for Puddles. I rather thought of him as a separate species.

He had acquired us one day while we were distracted by the chores of the day. He was just a puppy then but he made it quite plain that he was going to stay and that he would graciously allow us to remain as his servants.

As a human he would have been the perfect spy or a mystery shopper. He had a way to blend in with his surroundings, a street, a forest, the garden behind the house. Even his fur had a camouflage appearance, defying a closer description.

A hunting dog he certainly was not. The crack of a gun shot made first his tail disappear between his legs and a moment later the entire dog would have vanished.

Something else he disliked, that he tried to avoid by any means, was being bathed. He would struggle and howl his displeasure during the entire procedure to its very end. Then he would show us how deeply we had hurt his feelings, or his pride, by being petulant and aloof for the next two days.

Getting wet was not the issue. He didn't mind getting wet on his own accord. When he accompanied me on a fly fishing trip he would walk into the water next to me till the water was to his shoulders. But, having someone else make the decision to wet his pelt was obviously something his pride could not allow.

He developed a curious relationship with a squirrel living nearby. This squirrel regularly appeared on the top of our backyard fence, but only if Puddles was somewhere nearby. Noticing the squirrel he would run to the fence, apparently ready to tear the squirrel apart. It, however, ran along the top of the fence where Puddles could not reach it, until Puddles caught up with it.

At that precise moment the squirrel would make an about face, walking in the opposite direction. But the momentum o f the chase carried poor Puddles another step or so past that magic point. And so the game continued until eventually the squirrel tired of the game and went home.

Puddles was inordinately proud of himself as a person. It showed especially when he arrogantly crossed the street. He would neither look left nor right, no matter how heavy the traffic. The road was his and that was that.

I am certain that the truck driver, driving into the glare of the setting sun, never saw Puddles in his camouflage pelt.

With Puddles gone to dog heaven we replaced the old carpet. And now you know how Puddles got his name.