Is that "my" dog?

I don't know about you, but there have been a few times in my life that I didn't recognize my own beloved pet. I hate to admit it but it's true. I remember one such time several years ago. My husband had stopped at a busy intersection, risking his own life, to save a scrappy young dog from being hit from oncoming traffic. We named him Mickey. For the life of me now, I can't remember why, but he always turned to look when you called his name. (Note, I didn't say he "came" to the name, just would turn his head towards you, then roll his eyes and look away) Anyway, Mickey fit in with the rest of our motley crew pretty well. Ok, not so much really, Ok, not really at all. Actually, he was rather a pain for our older dogs and they often would let him know it too. Well, one day it was pouring "cats and dogs" outside and somehow Mickey got out from our fenced-in back yard. (I think our other dogs kicked him out, but that's another story) Next thing I know some poor mud saturated animal is scratching at our front door. My first thought was this poor animal must have been frightened by the storm and gotten loose from a neighbors home.  I opened the garage to let him in and clean him up. He would only run around, jump up and want into the house, it was exasperating. After talking to him to calm him down, it dawned on me, this was my Mickey, drenched to the bone in mud. My Mickey. I didn't recognize him. After the rain stopped, we found out that he had actually been trying to dig back in the back yard.  Now, that was a first!
Pictured here is Nick, a current family member. Unfortunately he also was left out in the rain recently and quite disgruntled about it as seen here.