The Man in Black?

I don't know who named Johnny Cash Johnny Cash.

I mean, shouldn't Johnny Cash be the dog in black, as in a black lab or Rottweiler? Or maybe a Doberman?

Shouldn't he be a rebel?

Or shouldn't he at least howl soulfully?Well, this Johnny Cash is a pit bull, a patchwork of brown and white. And a sweetheart. He was outside in the exercise area when I came to get him, and when I opened the door, he rose up on his back legs and jammed his body against me, tucking his head against my belly like he was a puppy and I the mama dog. I had to stand hugging him for close to two minutes before we could even start our walk.

Once we did, he was attached and affectionate. He looked at me often, pulled rarely (most of the time I walked him with one finger tucked into the handle of the leash), and in general was a gentle, snuggly guy.
At the half-way point in the walk, when we turned around, he hugged me again, and we had a sitting snuggle. He sat in the road, tail tucked against my feet, and leaned back to licked under the chin. I supported and embraced. (Drake does this so often we have a name for it: the cave.)

He was a little trouble at one point. He isn't fixed, and felt the urge to hump a leg a bit, but hey, if that's all the trouble an unfixed male dog produces on first meeting, that's nothing.

I don't know who named him Johnny Cash, but I do know that he's a sweet dog. Once again I face the central mystery of my time at the humane society: how could anyone give up a dog like this?