Bad Boys

I like men. There have been many wonderful men in my life - my dad, two brothers, eight uncles, husband and son - all of whom I adore and love.

I pride myself on never having succumbed to the allure of the bad boy - when other women were dropping like flies, I always went for intelligence and humour.

But - and this embarrassing to admit - I suddenly find myself crazy about a certain "bad boy".

He's fourteen pounds of attitude and naughty in every possible way. He's been know to cock his leg, look you straight in the eye, and take aim at your favorite pair of shoes - he never pees, just wants to let you know he could if he wanted to.

Occasionally he will get something out of my purse, say a twenty dollar bill, and take off like a bat out of hell - he doesn't do any damage, just likes to remind you who's the real boss.

Once my son woke up to what he thought was an earthquake, only to find our resident bad boy humping his pillow!

None of that matters, I happen to think he hangs the moon.