For me, it's been German shepherds all the way.
My first three were all rescues, from the poor 35 lb. waif I found lying under the table in my uncle's farmhouse kitchen, to Tasha, the dog my room-mate found dumped in the streets of Scarborough, to Ranger, the male GSD his owner said he was going to shoot if someone wouldn't take him.
After that, I got Star, my first pedigreed GSD, then Eska, my current working line shepherd.
There were two others - a Shiloh shepherd, which I rehomed after she went into a fear period at 9 months, and became scared of her own shadow, and a purebred showline I rescued from a shelter in West Virginia, which had to be euthanized after I found out she was extremely dog aggressive.
My parents wouldn't let me have dogs when I was young, as my brother had allergies, but that didn't stop me from rescuing a one-eyed mutt our vet was going to put to sleep when I was working for him in my late 'teens. I did manage to find a good home for him. I am not sure of his ancestry, but the vet thought he was part Dalmatian.