Dog from Hell was a small-to- medium sized, slender dog with a tan coat and white "socks" like a boxer.
He did not stay at home. It was a rare occasion to see his woeful face peeking out of one of these windows (the bushes were much smaller then). I say woeful face, because he was not a stay-at-home kind of dog. He was a roamer, a rounder you might say, if he had been a person. He liked a little action.
I found him in my backyard once, my fenced backyard. He startled when he saw me, jumping back.
"How did you get here?" I asked him, and he answered in his way, by quick clambering over the fence, one little foot in each diamond of the chain link, no problem.
He roamed around town in all sorts of unexpected places, and I used to call out to him, "Hey you! What are you doing over here? Going for a ride on Marta?" He might stop momentarily and look, but then continue on in his nonchalant, swaggering way. A way that inspired someone to call him "a roaming pair of balls."
He had other behavior that inspired this comment and his name (I have no idea what his real name was). For example, he would camp out on the porch next door, awaiting the opportunity to rush in and seize the sweet little Maltese that lived there. Of course, he only showed up on certain weeks of the year. (You might guess which weeks.) But he would stay the whole week.
Well, his persistence paid off, though I didn't actually witness him having his way with the Maltese. He must have snuck into her backyard and laid low because she had three or four little pups. The male was a little lanky tan guy with white socks. Someone adopted the pup and carried him off, and I never heard if he was the wanderer his father was.
