New York is a city full of dogs. More than any other urban center I’ve visited, it teems with canine companions. Mornings and weekends, the streets are lined with a vast array of sizes and breeds out for much-needed walks, their poop-scooping owners closely in tow.

Each time I see one of those dogs pass, I’m inevitably struck by the similarity between the dog and its owner. Head to any park in the city, and the old claim – that people look like their pets – is immediately and empirically observable as true.

Which, over the past few years, has been a cause of slight distress to me. Because, while my current travel schedule and living situation don’t easily accommodate a four-legged friend, I’d certainly love to pick up a pooch at some point in my not-too-distant future. And, frankly, I had no real idea what sort of dog would be my match. Obviously, such decisions beg the question of who does the adapting; do people start looking like their dogs, dogs like their people, or do both meet somewhere in between? Whatever the answer, it certainly seemed to me imperative to find a dog that might bring out the very best parts of myself.

So, this evening, while procrastinating on completing a major business document, I set out to wade through the furrier parts of the internet, searching for a breed from which I might one day draw a dog of my own. After several hours search (sadly, I’m not kidding about that time tally), I’ve settled upon the rather definitive answer: I am, apparently, a beagle person.

Beagles, it seems, are quick, clever, happy and curious, though fare rather poorly in obedience training, having an unusually strong sense of wanting to do things their own way. Small, slender and muscular, they need lots of exercise, bore easily if not mentally stimulated, and seem to have a knack for getting into trouble by following their nose.

Who knows. Next time I have work I’m trying to avoid, I might even set out to preemptively find some good potential beagle names.