Track 5: "Bertha" by The Grateful Dead

That's why if you please,
I am on my bended knees,
Bertha don't you come around here anymore.

I am proud to admit that I am a walking cliche--one of 'those' people who named their dog after a Grateful Dead song.

Yes I love the band,BUT I wouldn't exactly call myself a 'hippie.' I do listen to jam bands (but not 'just' jam bands), I've been to Bonnaroo, and I still have a modest collection of bootleg concert tapes that I accumulated throughout college--even though I haven't owned a tape player since 2004. However, I DO use deodorant, I've never begged for a 'miracle' ticket to any show, I bathe frequently, I've never sold veggie burritos and staunchly believe that 95% of white people look utterly ridiculous with dreadlocks.

I never got to see the 'real' Grateful Dead, but have seen different incarnations of the band's members throughout the year, countless Dead cover bands, and I own a decent collection of their music on my IPod. And though I can appreciate, and often get into some heady 30 minute musical exploration, I much prefer the band's "songs" as opposed to their jams--which is why "American Beauty" is one of my favorite albums of all time.

I think I first heard "Bertha" in high school and it's just one of those songs I immediately liked. It's fun, catchy, and very user-friendly. It was never really my intention to name my dog after a song--and after being at Phish shows and seeing under-fed dogs with names like "Fee" and "Harpua"with drug-addled, idiot owners I almost came to loathe the practice. But something about the name Bertha just stuck with me. And I DO like the idea of naming dogs human names, and I fully intend to have a big golden retriever named Walter at some point in my life.

I never had anything bigger than a hamster growing up. And despite constant pleas from my brother and I about the possible virtues of family dog, my folks never gave in. They gave us the typical excuses--"you'll never take care of it," "it's a lot of work,"and the like.

Which of course led to the overwhelming desire to have a dog once I was on my own and somewhat 'established.' So with my favorite Grateful Dead song in mind, I set out to find my Bertha. I was living in Charleston at the time, and went to three different animal shelters looking for the right dog. Leaving those places empty handed is next to impossible to do, but I was on a mission to find a perfect first dog.

And I did! At the animal shelter in Goose Creek (45 minutes away from Charleston) a black lab about 10 months old caught my eye. "She's going to be way too big," I initially thought.

I walked around the facility a few times and came back to her--I just felt drawn to this animal. So I took her out in a little visiting area at the pound, and she walked up to me, and just out of curiosity I told her to 'sit' and she DID! SOLD!

That day was October 18, 2000. So today I celebrate 9 years with Bertha--90 pounds of pure, unconditional sweetness. Her tail can clear off a coffee table in a matter of nano-seconds, she's utterly terrified of the vacuum cleaner, enjoys chasing squirrels in futility, and never fails to welcome me home with a warm greeting. She's getting gray around her muzzle, but she's still just as excitable as the day I got her.

And she is the reason "Bertha" will always be one of my favorite songs of all time. So thank you, Bertha, for 9 years of being a great dog!!!