on hoss, bo wheaten

and embracing the dark side

Bo Wheaten.

Merely uttering those two words together would cause Hoss to growl eventually rolling into a deep, resonate bark.

Hoss had friends and Hoss had enemies.

Some he hated merely because they existed. We never knew why, but wheaten terriers?

They were always a problem. Likely because of Bo. Bo Wheaten had his balls. Hoss did not. I’ve not met a gelded animal that enjoys time with a stud. Call it jealousy, call it evolution.

It doesn’t matter, if I had my balls cut off, I’d hate every man who still had functioning nuts.

But wheatens? Hoss hated them all. He wouldn’t lunge. But if you knew Hoss, you could tell if he didn’t like someone.

He didn’t merely dislike other dogs. He had favorite people. The one legged man in the magic chair? Hoss loved him. The African man who smelled like sausage? Hoss loved him. The Eastern European man with the moustache and trans am and walking stick?

Hoss did not like him at all.

People would get offended. If he liked you, he’d sit on your foot, lean i…