I follow 33 dog accounts on Instagram and five on Snapchat. Foreign dog accounts in languages I don't speak. I stop people on the street to pet their dogs. I ask their breed, their name, if they're having a good day? Since 2010 I have kept a "note" on my iPhone with a running list of future dog names. At the time of writing, the list contained a robust 112 potential monikers. I grew up with bird dogs. First we had two big, thick black labs: Bailey and Clara. Then, all of a sudden, we had none. Bailey went to live on a farm. (Looking back I realize how euphemistic that sounds, but that is what I was told and have never questioned.) Clara suddenly developed an inferiority complex around children, an unfortunate recessive trait; after biting two of the neighborhood kids and my brother, my parents were sorrowfully advised to have her put down. I had been looking forward to showing off my furry friends all year at the annual kindergarten pet show, but now I was an empty nester. I had to prop up my stuffed animals on a card table instead of prancing around with B and C.

That is probably where this all began, that critical moment during early childhood when I needed a dog for achievement and social status and I had only lifeless imitations. My family did eventually get a new dog, a Springer Spaniel named Lucy, whom I had a complex, sisterly relationship with. She pockmarked my Barbies with her teeth and devoured a carefully constructed gingerbread house.For the last nearly two decades I have roamed the earth dog-less. My first mistake in adult life choices was moving to New York City. Small apartments and jobs that at first worked me frantic then put me on airplanes every other week, all made dog ownership dramatically out of reach. I knew I loved dogs too much to give them a halfway, New York City-style life. Even privileged city dogs can fall victim to the indignities of an urban existence. The well-established fashion photographer I worked for in my early years owned not one but three Great Danes. I used to walk them (two at a time) on the cobblestoned streets surrounding the old Meatpacking hotspot Pastis.

On one sweltering lunch hour tour, one of the great beasts developed a horse-sized symptom of IBS. As I moved the two leashes into my left hand and reached for a plastic bag I could already smell the situation. The sidewalk-seated lunch-goers were inches away as I swiped at the mess on the sunbaked concrete. I did my best. As I stood up I came face to face with a helpless diner. To my horror it was Daniel Day-Lewis, mid-bite, face aghast. The Danes and I tucked our tails between our legs and scampered off.As I rose through the ranks in career and apartments, the feeling that my life in the glass canyons of Manhattan was still not set up for a dog gnawed at me. What if, one day, it was my Fido who had to suffer the shame of public diarrhea in front of an Academy Award-winning actor? Finally I decided if I were ever going to have a dog, I'd have to leave New York. I quit my job and moved to a small, idyllic town in Colorado, a little place called Aspen. The housing situation is so tight in Rocky Mountain ski towns that one might say the market is rigged against pet-owning renters.

The clash of billionaire second-home owners and locals plays out daily in Aspen's two main street papers. Op-eds rage over luxury developments and the implicit need they create for expanded affordable housing—dog-friendly affordable housing that is.West Elm Curtain Rod Assembly What if, one day, it was my Fido who had to suffer the shame of public diarrhea in front of an Academy Award-winning actor?House For Sale Huntingdon QcHaving the gumption to re-cast one's life to accommodate a hypothetical pet is a modern luxury, to be sure. Shih Poo Puppies For Sale San DiegoAnd it is so "millennial" to feel emotionally scarred by your kindergarten pet show… but that is beside the point. It is uncivilized as far as I'm concerned, to be a person without a dog.

So, as I move in to my no-pets-allowed rental condo in the crisp mountain air, I will keep adding to that iPhone note of dog names until the situation is rectified. Perhaps there's a business idea in there somewhere. You send me three pictures of your pup and I'll send you three name options. "Www dot hey-dog dot com" has a nice ring to it, no?Heretofore, my personal trove of dog names: (Please don't steal one. I might need it sometime in the distant future.)SmokeyBuddyBullBusbyButterscotch Puddin' "Pud"BooThumperAjax "Jax"Wolfcamp – (name of my great-grandmother's stud)Buck "Buckie"BurrStillyTriggerPrinceyHugoIlsaBearBeastMosesFredRomeoBrigitteThorHaunchShadowBookerScoobyTim Riggins "Riggs"FrecklesBoodlesHuck Finn "Huckles"PepperBartRexBowie FuPamplemousse "Pompli"BubbaBrodyParisMuffinBogieDapperThunderbird – (name of Mom's childhood horse)Sugar – (Mom's childhood pony)Spice – (Mom's other childhood pony)Digger - (Aunt Margie's childhood horse)Honey - (Uncle Jimmy's)Red - (Uncle Watty's)PeppyBing CrosbyMr.

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