My parents never were really fond of animals. While all my friends had dogs and cats galore, my parents insisted that animals required too much responsibility and were constantly making messes. Of course, I wanted a pet of my own, but they would allow it. I won a gold fish at the county fair, and they let me keep it my room in a little fish bowl. Even though I took care of him, he went belly-up within a month. So, I was pretty much pet-less growing up as a child.

My wife, on the other hand, lived in the country and was always surrounded by farm animals and pets. To her, no house is complete without a resident dog and a cat or two. After we were engaged, she started the pet discussion hard core. Since I was not raised around animals, I bucked the idea. She was adamant and that was that. I loved her, so I had to go along with the idea.

We moved into a comfortable little townhouse after we got married. I had hoped that she would have long forgotten the pet idea; however, I was gravely mistaken. One Saturday morning when I was brushing my teeth, she announced that we were going to the local dog shelter to pick out our family pet. I was completely against the idea. A half hour later, we were on our way to see the dogs.

I figured that she would want a tiny, cutesy dog like some of the movie stars own. She could carry it in a purse carrier and I would not have to deal with it much. Again, I was wrong. She fell in love with a mixed breed that was the size of a small horse. He was all white and had black ears. He cocked his head back and forth, studying me. Then, he gave a big jump, put his paws on my shoulders and licked me right in the face. My wife was pleased that he loved me. I was disgusted with all the dog slobber I had to wipe from my face. Against my better judgment, he was adopted and on the way home with us. My wife named him Bozo.

Our lives forever changed when that dog arrived. We were told that he was housetrained, for the most part. I think they forgot to tell Bozo that he was. There were many mornings that I was greeted with a little puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor. We bought him nice chew toys, but he always preferred the television remote and my favorite slippers. He ate like a cow and made messes that were comparable. He was like walking a mad bull and he stopped at every tree along our walking trail.

He continues to brighten our days with some of his antics. I just love when he tears out the kitchen trash and digs through the clothes hamper. He has the stomach of a goat. Recently, I was getting out some treats for him and spilled them on the coffee table. Unfortunately, I had taken my phone apart and had my SD card out on the same table. Before I could stop him, he lapped up my SD card along with a bunch of treats.

My wife called the vet and he said that Bozo would just pass it. I refused to look through his business every day to find if that were true. I guess I am growing fond of the big galoot. Next time, I am just going to watch what I have next to his treats.