Seeking: cute face, legs that won’t quit

The light of my life has spots, floppy ears and loves to chase rabbits. But enough about my ex-girlfriend. Just kidding. She was actually very attractive. From what I remember. It’s all pretty hazy.

Here’s how we meet: I see her picture on the Pasadena Humane Society website and take an immediate interest. She’s only 2 -- a bit out of my normal age range -- but I decide to make an exception. I rush over to the shelter, picture in hand.

“I’m looking for the Dalmatian.”

“Kennel 314. Last one on the left.”

It’s Valentine’s Day 2002. There’s love in the air. Also the faint odor of liver treats. I’m nervous walking down the row. Although I know what she looks like, she’s never seen my picture. And you know how picky some girls can be. Most of the dogs race to the front of their kennels, barking wildly as I walk by. But peering down the row to 314, I don’t see -- or hear -- a thing.

They say Dalmatians are nervous, high-strung and difficult. (Well, at least we have some things in common.) This one, however, approaches very timidly and doesn’t make a peep. She’s about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. We chitchat about the weather, what I like to do in my spare time and the merits of canned versus dry. I stare into her eyes. She sniffs my pants. It’s love.

“I want to adopt her.”

“Do you have a house?”

“No.”

“A yard?”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

After a healthy dose of begging, I persuade them. It’s not easy. PHS staff members go to great lengths to place pets in good homes. One of them suggests I name her “Twiggy.” Like the model. Because they’re both thin with dark circles around their eyes. She plops down into the back seat of my bright red car. We look like we’re on our way to a fire.

Even if you’re single, adopting a great dog means you’re never really alone. Dogs are always ready to go. They don’t know from bad moods. They never pursue a better-looking owner. They don’t play games (unless you ask them to). They don’t care what you drive (as long as you take them for a ride). Or what movie star you resemble. They don’t know George Clooney from George Carlin.

Twiggy gets a lot of attention, and I just sort of ride her spotted coattails. One of my best Internet dates consisted of a dog walk from South Pasadena, along the Arroyo, all the way to the Rose Bowl. We chatted for hours and made plans to go out again. Dates are a lot less awkward when you have such a charming companion at the end of your leash. She’s a walking conversation piece.

Another time I got a phone number from a cute massage therapist in a Laundromat simply because she really liked my dog. (More than me, obviously. She never returned my call.) I have an excuse to talk to women in dog parks. On the street. Atop Runyon Canyon (where the dog owners are frequently prettier than the dogs). And barely an e-mail goes by that I don’t squeeze in a mention about the world’s cutest dog. Really, what’s more attractive to a prospective date than your demonstrated love for another living creature? Besides money, fame and a TiVo in the bedroom.

Not meeting that special someone? Kennel 314. Last one on the left.

Howard Leff can be reached at weekend@latimes.com.