The Extreme Case of Plumpy Love

Falling for the biggest, slowest, most dimwitted, and sweetest dog you'd ever meet.

Illustration by Elliot Kruszynski

If veterinarians had a Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, our family’s beautiful black and white springer spaniel, Jane Meldog Lewis, might have been classified as “Batshit Crazy.” She would obsessively chase balls until felled by heat stroke. She would compulsively suck on the legs and tails of my kids’ stuffed animals. She’d stalk my wife Patti everywhere she went, and would often appear one leash-snapping, shoulder-dislocating lunge away from ripping out the throat of someone she thought might harm her family.

So we mated our beloved lunatic with a friendly neighbor’s young, sweet and eager-to-please golden retriever. My family and I thought we’d get gorgeous yellow and white pups that were gentle — and not crazy. Instead, we were awarded ten all-black puppies, though none showed early signs of psychosis.

Born Christmas Eve in my closet, nine of them spent the night blindly squealing and nuzzling, playing a canine version of musica…