I was born in the 60s when my dad was stationed at George AFB in Victorville CA. While that's where he was stationed, he actually spent most of his time in Vietnam during the couple of years we lived there, so my mom was a single parent for most of that time. When we moved there, it was just by older brother and sister, but while there my twin brother and I were born, as well as my younger brother.

Anyway, during that time there was a news story about several families in the area that woke up to find a stranger in their house. Specifically, the stranger was in a bedroom with a cradle, standing over the cradle looking at the baby. When discovered, the stranger would exit out of the open bedroom window he had originally entered. Understandably, this had people in the community on edge.

During this time, my dad came home for a short period and my mom told him she wanted a gun - so he went and got her a gun. She doesn't know what kind it was, but she said it was huge, and the bullets were 3 inches long. It wasn't a shotgun, but a handheld pistol of some sort. They showed one of the neighbors, and the neighbor laughed and said something like "that thing will knock you on your @ss if you fire it". So, my mom told my dad to take it back and to get her a dog instead.

That's how we ended up with Frosty.