Head full of rocks

This is Adolf. He's almost six years old. Sometimes I think he's more trouble than he's worth. I couldn't tell you the amount of stuff this dog has shredded, chewed up, destroyed and eaten. There have been times that I have wanted to kill him. The thing about a dog is you can't stay mad at them. At least I can't. Every time I come home he's happy to see me. He usually gets out of his room and greets me at the door, and even though he knows he'll be in trouble for breaking out his tail is still going a hundred miles a minute. He knows when I'm sick. He knows when I'm feeling down. He knows when I'm happy. The dog knows me better than I know myself sometimes, I swear. I could probably write more than you'd care to read about him, he's practically like my kid. A big, dumb, ninety pound kid. I can't say for sure, but I think he'd do anything for me, and even though sometimes I want to cave his head in I hope he knows I'd do the same.
I guess it's weird to have an entry about him, he's not really a possession, he's a member of my family. I guess the only difference is I had to pay for him. But it was some of the best money I've ever spent.