"I don't know anything. I just hand out cookies."
Nicknames: MWD, The Ball-n-Chain, Poppy
Born: 1066 AD Rescued: October 2001
History: I met Mr. Wild Dingo at a social event. We were both members of the same bicycle racing team. At the time, I did not know it was a racing team. He thought it was a racing team and was thereby annoyed by me whenever I attended a group ride and chatted the entire time, never really making an effort to climb the hills very fast. I was interested in gabbing on the team rides. He was interested in hammering the hills. Needless to say, we did not hit it off right away until he saw me with my helmet off. Apparently, that changed his mind. I won't go into the particulars of why other than Mr. Wild Dingo can enjoy a gal who knows how to get dirty outside but clean up well for a party. When I was given a choice between a glass of wine or a Sierra Nevada beer at that fateful party, I chose the beer and it was then he knew he'd marry me. He had to convince me first to go out with him. It wasn't easy. He came on all my social mountain bike rides, which, much to his chagrin, included many unfit people out to have fun, not to hammer the hills. Every Tuesday night he endured these events just for the opportunity to get a date with me. I finally gave in. I will say this about Mr. Wild Dingo: he knows what he wants and goes for it. It's an admirable trait in any individual. As we dated, he introduced me to his dogs, Maggie, the dingo, and Moosh, the Labrador. Moosh was a doll, but Maggie, desperate for some female companionship, claimed me almost immediately. After we married, she became "my" dog. Shortly after that, I launched Wild Dingo and the rest is history. These days, neither of us can drink beer, so we seem to grow perfectly together. He enjoys bike riding, dog walking, home improvement, carrying out all my hair-brained ideas, and foiling all my attempts at teaching the dogs good manners. He's especially good at rewarding Juno with steak dinners for all her crimes of mastication.