The dog, named Lucky because it was lucky we (my family and I) rescued it from a cardboard box alongside the highway that we passed several days in a row going to baseball practice, was starving, mangy and just generally scruffy looking. I told my then wife—my first of two—that we could keep it if it was a male. She assured me it was but alas, she was wrong. I was working a lot of overtime then and didn’t take a good look at the obvious end of the animal until a couple of weeks later and by then the kids, all five, wouldn’t let me get rid of it. A period of time later she had a litter of puppies under our house but the amazing end of this story is: the scoundrel responsible for the situation would come down the lane often to visit his pups. Which is more that some human males will do.