Why do dogs like me so much? I'm an attractive automobile, all sleek and black, but why do dogs regard me as a fire hydrant anyway? I'm not even the color red!

It's another day in a parking lot, waiting for Michael to finish his meal in a greasy fast-food tavern. Of course, there has to be a dog. He's probably looking for some scraps as I observe him sniffing the pavement beneath his paws. I scan the animal - he's undernourished - poor thing. "Sorry, I don't have any food for you," I say aloud to the animal.

The dog looks up briefly, wondering where the voice came from, and returns to sniffing around. The dog eventually spots me while I think uh oh then heads toward where I'm parked. Is that dog going to do what I suspect? Sure enough, he gets close to me, sniffs my right front passenger tire, lifts his leg, and urinates all over it. "DOG! I'M NOT A FIRE HYDRANT!" I yell out loud. Some days, there's just no winning, I think once again as the dog finally finishes his indignity upon my tire.

By this time, Michael finished his meal and walked toward me while humming a little tune. He must have spotted the dog.

"Michael, did you see what that cur did to my tire?" I asked with annoyance.

Michael starts to chuckle and replies, "No, Kitt. But I'm sure the damage is not permanent."

It's a familiar refrain. Our conversation is almost the same one I recall several years ago when we encountered Harry the dog in one of our first assignments together. He, too, decided I was a fire hydrant and also urinated on my right tire back then.

I immediately turn my attention back to the present. "If you don't mind, Michael - I like to leave here. I had enough of dogs for today," I said, very grumpy at this point. My Olfactory Sensor is not happy either with the stench of urine detected.

Michael continues laughing as he pats my hood, "OK, Pal. How about taking you to a car wash and cleaning you up? Hopefully, it will make you feel better."

Michael knows me all too well. I accept the offer, "Thank you, Michael." I said, relieved. No other words are needed to convey my appreciation.

Over the years, I attracted dogs like moths to an open flame. I have had dogs urinate on me, jump all over my chassis, and even inside my cabin.

Sugar was one such example. She was a well-behaved dog - her job as a guide dog had defined her personality. When she was inside my cabin, I wasn't pleased at first, but after I became acquainted with her and her handler, Julie, who is blind, I decided dogs weren't too bad as long as they behaved.

One time, Michael came under attack by some vicious dogs while we were doing an assignment. I was in a bog and unable to help him. I still feel the guilt after witnessing Michael mauled. However, he always told me it was his fault I was in the bog in the first place. I was happy when we finished that assignment. I needed repairs and was relieved - Michael recovered none the worse for wear.

There were many instances when Michael encountered several large and vicious guard dogs. Fortunately, the solution was to activate a signal only the dogs could hear. They ran straight to my location, but their barks made things more difficult for Michael. Being a computer, it never occurred to me to be a Pied Piper for dogs. I'm still thankful Michael came up with the distraction. The thought of my best friend mauled again is something I don't want to think about.

There was also the one dog who insisted he wanted inside my cabin by scratching the side of my door. He was trying to avoid being captured by a dog catcher. I felt sorry for the poor creature. I opened my door, let the dog in, and as the dog scratched with his front paws on my dash, I darkened my windows. It was the second time I met this particular dog. "And there he is, doesn't he give up?" I said out loud to the dog. I was referring to the dog catcher outside my driver's side door. At first, the man wanted to catch the dog, but after not-so-subtle hints from me about the location of some other dogs, he immediately went on his way. Once the dog catcher left the area, I opened my door, and the dog jumped out.

Michael had appeared at my door just as the dog jumped out. He thought he was seeing things at first and asked me a question about the dog.

I, of course, had to reply with my most innocent voice, "What do you think you saw, Michael?"

My best friend started to answer, hesitated, and said, "Ummm, forget it, I should have finished that cup of espresso."

Hours later, I asked Michael's lady friend about adopting a small dog. Michael immediately complained of itchiness after I asked the question. I was silent at first but later mentioned fleas weren't a problem. If looks could kill- my existence would end, but I knew Michael didn't mean it. At the time, I was very amused by that look, and we still laugh about it.

I'm finally clean from the car wash and also gratified the urine is off my tire. Michael asks what we should do for the rest of the day. We rarely have the extra time together with no assignments at the moment.

"How about a drive to the beach, Michael? Preferably one with no dogs allowed," I suggest, even though I don't like the salt air. It's my way of thanking my best friend. I start my engine with the turbines thrumming with power and wait for him to take the wheel.

Michael smiles as he softly answers, "You got it, Buddy." He grips my wheel in a way I'm both familiar and comfortable with.

We spent the rest of the day watching the waves hit the sandy beach. I'm happy for two reasons - Michael's company and no dogs.