As a child, I devoured dog books, fiction and non-fiction, and tried to get any contact I could with dogs. I dragged a toy dog around with me until my parents surrendered and let me have a dog

. He was a spaniel cross (not the modern ones, this was 1960) from rescue, in the days before they did much in the way of checks. He'd been handed in that day ("sleeps in kennel in garden, eats anything"), said to be 6 months old but more like 18 months, no home check, and entire.
After he died, next dog was a black Labrador puppy, last one left from a litter of 14 and let down on her home. A friend told me she'd be put down if no home was found ... Everything was wrong about my circumstances for owning a dog, but she was with me for 14 years and my best friend. Ever.
Nine years later, in better dog owning circumstances, I had a full cocker spaniel from rescue. I could never have another black Lab after my girl, and the other colours did not "do it" for me. I've always liked spaniels, and he "asked" me to take him home.
I now have two show type cockers (different ages and personalities) from a "proper" breeder; in spite of hair, mud, velcro-ness, the unhygienic and impractical ears which drag in everything, I still love spaniels, and they're small enough to be carried in emergency. I love the way they always want to be involved in whatever's going on, and join in. They even come in a range of colours and coat patterns so they look different, and a range of sizes, so I can downsize as I get older. (I shall know when I've finally lost it as I shall have one spaniel of every breed, colour and coat pattern. As it is, I limit myself to boring my friends about my dogs.

)
I've also had a step-dog who was a Bitza x Heinz, a JRT foster dog, and was groomer and walker etc for my Mum's Cavalier.