Saipan, 1985

I have a boonie dog, a dog I affectionately named Boonie. I’m not real inventive sometimes.

I spotted her at a dog adoption fair in Alamo Square years ago, and kinda froze. She looked JUST like the dogs from my childhood. The ones that ran out of the jungle, the boonies, from time to time, and that the Americans on the island just couldn’t help adopting. Like these guys, Molly and Peanut:

Dog, tree, island

Rachael rubbing Molly's stomach

They were pretty spazzy dogs, as I remember, but pretty awesome, too. Most of the boonie dogs snarled and ran off if you got to close, but a few of them were just as sweet as can be and desperate to be pampered pups. I ran into those pics last week, rejects from our Saipan kodachrome days, and I was reminded again why Boonie caught my eye.

You know, Boonie.

Lucky girl. Happy 4th Birthday, Boonie!

(and, funny enough, she poses just like Molly used to in that second photograph, when Rachael rubs her tummy. Real ladylike.)

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