For several years as a teenager, I threw newspapers. The Fort Worth Star-telegram to be exact. And the Star-telegram was a morning and evening paper, so that included getting up a three o'clock every day and throwing my route before sun-up for many years.
At one point, I threw part of my route from a motorcycle, and there was one cul-de-sac on that part, and at the back of the circle was a big house, and at that house lived the first white GSD I'd ever seen, Max.
Max didn't like my motorcycle at all, and every morning he'd come running down the walk, barking and snarling, and I'd throw the paper over his head and haul ass. Then he'd chase me to the end of the cul-de-sac.
Max was one cool dog.
I could have complained to the owner but I never did. I think it got to be a game between us.
I was so taken with Max that somehow or another, I managed to talk my mother into letting me buy a white GSD of my own.
He was four months old when I bought him, and the guy I bought him from had already named him Deacon.
Well, Deacon is to this day a family legend. He managed to live from the time I was 15 until after I was married and both my kids had been born.
Deacon was 11 when we lost him. And I do mean lost. I had left him with a friend across town for a few days while we went out of town, and somehow he broke out of their yard...and we never saw him again.
But knowing Deacon, my wife and I have never since even considered being without a dog, and never considered there to be any breed but GSD. But I think since there's just no way there could ever be another Deacon, we've had since then just about every color but white.