Dad with our Giant German Boxer, "Jerry", the name eluding to the Nazi's dad fought in WW II. Jerry was given to us by a GI who was being transferred and couldn't take the dog with him. Jerry was extremely well trained, with generations of papers. At the time he was the only Giant German Boxer registered with the American Kennel Club. Mom could walk the dog in a circle out in the back yard, then place me in the middle of that circle with the dog. If I tried to crawl outside the circle, Jerry would pick me up by my diaper and carry me back to the center. If anyone tried to get inside the circle...well, they better not try. I fireman from the station next door tried to give me some candy once and barely made the tree in our back yard alive.