Rosie was a Boston Terrier. It’s an “American breed”; think slightly more compact French bulldog, with more striking black & white. Fairly smart, good family dogs, although Rosie did not get to experience little kids until she was old (and the grandchildren, my sister’s kids, came along) so having little people around freaked her out. As opposed to her predecessor, Daisy (also a Boston), who was still a pup when my sister went to college (I was long gone); however, the neighborhood was flipping to young families again, so the neighborhood kids would stop at my parents’ house, ring the bell, ask, “Can Daisy come out and play?”, and run her around until she collapsed.

Rosie thought little kids were strange, foreign, and possibly evil. Daisy thought little kids were the coolest things ever, and everybody should have a few. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯