Well, I got some good advice from Brods (you know, one of the ten goalies down in G'ville). We're still good friends - we talk about once a week - poor kid, back problems. Anyway. He told me to get a dog. No, it wasn't just as random as that, but. . .you know. Pretty close. He knew that I was kind of lonely, so he told me to go to the pound
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Sable?
Brownie?
Chester?
Jorge! (said Hor-hay, not George)
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Of course, I might change his name to Pooter or Farty or something like that. He can stink up the place, that's for sure. My God!
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