Mr. Winkle
Yes, it is Mr. Winkle, touted as the Cutest Dog in the Universe, making an afternoon pit stop en route to an appearance at a Borders bookstore. In a flash, the diminutive ball of fluff is surrounded by cooing men in leather chaps, all of them asking the question that has come to define Mr. Winkle's celebrity:
What is Mr. Winkle, really? An unusually lively stuffed toy? A divine manifestation? The fifth Beatle? A cat in a dog's suit?
Everyone has a different theory about the tiny pooch with an oversize tongue, whose image in calendars and books has launched an international cult of cuteness. More than 36 million people have visited his Web site (www.mrwinkle.com) since its launch in 2000. He averages 100 e-mails a day, and his bookstore appearances are standing-room only.
All this, thanks to photographer Regan's talent for capturing her uber- dog's whimsical charm in guises ranging from angel and alien to ballerina and bumblebee. For her latest book of portraits, “A Winkle in Time: Mr. Winkle Celebrates the Underdogs of History,” she poses Mr. Winkle as unsung innovators such as sculptor Camille Claudel and Mexican revolutionary Miguel Hidalgo. She figures celebrating the achievements of history's forgotten heroes is perfect for the world's most celebrated misfit mutt.
“Mr. Winkle is an underdog,” she explains. “He was found half-dead on the side of the road and had clearly been abused in the life he came from, but he went from straydom to stardom.”
Regan's Winkle odyssey began six years ago when she lost her way in an industrial wasteland outside Bakersfield while on assignment for Newsweek magazine. A bundle of muddy, matted fur limped into her car's headlights; she got out to investigate, and the bedraggled creature toddled into her arms. Feeling the tug of destiny, she took him back to her Los Angeles home and spent the next two years nursing him to health.
