THE Q factor

Bruno: I t's been several years since I had a pet. The only animals we could

QUINTEN BOYD chreporter@mediactr.com have at the dorms were fish and I just never really got into fish. They seem to exist just fine without an "owner."

I'm very hit and miss with cats, as well. Some like me and some don't. For instance, our office "guard cat," Ernie, spends most of her time running from me. When she wants to "play," she enjoys trying to bite me and anyone else that gets close to her.

In the end, I've always liked dogs. I never wanted a mean, vicious dog. I never wanted those overly energetic little dogs that do nothing but yip and won't shut up.

I enjoy dogs that seem really lazy but, deep down, you know they care. Dogs that can lie in the shade relaxing but don't mind coming out to play. Dogs that protect the people around them.

That brings me to the story of Bruno.

Bruno was a black labrador that enjoyed lying around in the shade, lying around in the sun, or lying around on the porch.

My dad brought him home one day after he'd been abandoned out on the highway. We'd already had several dogs, most of which I can still name - Fluffy, Fred, Rambo, Lady, Champion, Boomer and Puppy (I couldn't think of a better name).

All of them were good dogs. Fluffy and Fred were the dogs my folks got when I was a baby, so I grew up with them. Fluffy was the energetic lady and Fred was her protective boyfriend.

They were the perfect couple. So much so, in fact, that when Fred died, Fluffy cried for a week straight. I still remember how sad she was.

As a toddler, I could go outside and play and Fred would watch over me, keeping an eye on anyone and everyone who passed down Cornett Road.

Rambo looked tough. Part husky and part chow, I named him after the Sylvester Stallone character, but Rambo was a regal dog. He was like a Marine: semper fi all the way.

Lady was the type of dog that loved to be where you were at all times. She loved being around people. Champion wasn't around long, but he was the playful one. Boomer was shaggy and slept most of the time, coming out to play once in a while.

Puppy was like a little kid. He ran around until he got tired and then he went to sleep. He ate dirt and bugs. He was just...Puppy, but we loved him just the same.

Then, there was Bruno. He was my favorite simply because he was cool. Sleek black with brown eyes and

demeanor that was cooler than the Arctic in December. The Cadillac of dogs. Just plain cool.

Bruno was built to be active. Going for a walk? Bruno wanted to go, too. Out playing basketball? If your shot missed, he'd go after it. He couldn't quite fetch, but he'd at least roll the ball back.

Bruno also didn't mind rest and relaxation. For instance, one warm summer day, my mom was inside watching TV. Since it was fairly warm, she kept the door open to let a cool breeze flow through the house.

The way she tells it, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, but didn't pay much attention to it and kept watching TV. About five minutes later, she was about to get up when she noticed Bruno, sitting quietly, watching TV with her. She shooed him out the door, and he simply walked out. He didn't whine, he didn't grumble and he didn't care.

It was like he said, "Ah, this show's over. I've got something else to do anyway."

Bruno also gave out free rides to the kids. My younger brother Casey, who was about 3 or 4 at the time, would always try to ride Bruno like a cowboy rides a horse. The first time Casey sat on Bruno's back, the dog turned around and looked at him, almost shrugged and walked a few steps.

"What are you doing? Oh, well, if that's what you want. Hang on, then."

Everyone liked Bruno, with the exception of my cousin Kenny. Bruno wasn't a fan of wheels and tires and would bark at them any time he saw them in motion.

One day, Kenny was riding his bike past our house and Bruno took off after him, trying to bite the back wheel simply for having the audacity to roll past him.

I've never cried over losing a dog, but I won't lie. I was sad when I found out that Bruno had died. It was like one day, he just wasn't there anymore. He may not have been lying on the porch or resting his head on my lap, but I've never forgotten him.

I haven't had a dog since then. I may not get another one for a while simply because of my current circumstances.

But rest assured: when I do get another dog, I'm getting one like Bruno.