The Sweet Ones Always Die

Little Taipei. I saved her from an animal shelter a week after some sick bastard murdered Lai-Foo (Lucky Comes, in Chinese), my white wolf mix.
Turns out another sick bastard ran over her sometime this weekend. Dad wouldn't tell me exactly when. I know Dad blames himself because he let her loose to get some exercise, and she insisted on chasing some cars. Dad called her to come back, and she didn't listen. Dad later heard her barking, but didn't go to check on her. When she wasn't home the next morning, he went looking for her and found her.
I don't know why anyone would want to hurt an animal. Even the arrogant dogs and cats in Butte I slow down for, and make sure I don't hit.
Yet another reason I'm so insanely frustrated with the sheep-farming bastards in Utah.
Taipei was probably the smartest little dog I've had the pleasure to know. She was too smart, in fact, because sometimes she wouldn't perform commands when you asked her to. But she knew how to sit, to lie down, roll over, shake hands. Taipei would come (most of the time) to you when you called for her. She was a little ball of energy that loved to run. If I was home more often and ran a little better, she would have been the perfect running companion. She was always happy to see me, and always afraid of strangers. Taipei loved attention, and she loved to play. She had a sweet personality; I've never known her to dare bite a person, even in play.
Dad wants to get me another dog when my parents find another house and settle in, but I honestly don't know when I'll be settled enough to get a dog. I don't even know what kind of dog I'd like. Jack Russells are fairly smart, and make good running companions. And even something like an Australian Cattle Dog would be nice. Mutts are fine, too.