Now I've done it. I've gone over the edge into the crazy, obsessive, fur-wearin', slobberin' world of dog ownership. My new pedigreed poochie, Major Monty, is a big marshmellow of an English Bulldog and will be a constant source of humor in our already chaotic two-kid, three-cat household. He snores, burps, growls, even farts better than anyone you'll meet in the public areas of your local nursing home. He's a lover, not a fighter, but I'd put his stubborn streak up against that of John McEnroe, Jack Nicholson and Madonna, any day.