Bond, the dog, is not smooth and suave. He's gangly and ill-mannered, jumping up excitedly on everyone who walks into the house. Nor is he worldly. Rather than spending his days on romantic Caribbean islands and in faraway countries with unclear borders and unpronounceable names saving the world from imminent destruction, he can be found most days hanging out in our fenced backyard chasing squirrels up trees and barking at them.

I've written about Bond before and I have to confess that I lied. I said that the one thing that Bond is, is good with the ladies. He's not. He's not bad with your leg if you're sitting on the couch trying to read or have a drink. But that, sadly, is about it. I lied to make Bond seem more dashing, more like his movie namesake. I apologize.

The fact is, Bond is a shaggy-haired doofus whom we've taken to calling Big Galoot. This is about as far from the debonair spy as you can get. Can you blame me for lying?

After bounding through the back door (very un-007-like, I might add), Bond banged into my wife, son, and me as an expression of his love, then went barreling through the house. He ran maniacally around the house, skittering across the hardwood floors, paws clawing furiously to right himself, but he usually ended up crashing into a table anyway.
It was his way of welcoming us home from our trip.

"Hey! How ya' doin'? Been gone, huh? Good time? Boy, you shoulda been here, I'll tell ya. You wouldn't'a believed the squirrels. Oooh boy. Good times! So, how ya been? Good to see you. I know you like it when I knock you over and slobber all over your face, so here ya go. Like that? You're welcome. Man, I'll tell ya, you won't believe what went on while you were away. There's a schnauzer in the neighborhood now. Yep. This bald-headed guy walks right by here every morning. I bark at 'em till I'm practically hoarse to make 'em feel welcome. Boy, it sure is good to see y'all."