When I was a kid, my dad brought in a new pup. It was a Boston terrier – a tiny black and white monstrosity with a mashed face, bugged eyes – one blue and one brown – and bad attitude.
He named it Samson and he loved it dearly.
It was supposed to be my dog but Samson and I had a difference of opinion early in the relationship and I never cared much for him after that.
Samson was the worst dog that could have landed on a small farm. He refused to stay home, wouldn’t listen and tormented the other animals.