Roman Meal, as is his full name, is the reincarnation of an ancient Samurai. He has always been loving but rules the roost with an iron paw. I have several scars from his days of weighing in at 23 pounds and even had a hospital trip when he clawed my upper lip.

I used to enjoy shadow boxing with him before going out to see some rock music shows. He would become so enraged that he would flare his nostrils and snort. I engaged young Bushido one evening and got the best of him and set out for the night. I returned home after nearly eight hours and went straight to bed.  Little did I know that his seething vengeance was mounting.

I called for him by clicking fingers, several whistles and a series of chortles that was our bedtime ritual.  I could hear him climb the two flights of stairs to the bedroom. "Come on, buddy," I called to him. No reply. I rolled over to sleep thinking that he had his own agenda. Suddenly, he hit my foot so hard that I slid several inches in bed. The bugger moved a 175 pound man! It hurt so badly that I couldn't give chase.

The next morning I had forgotten about the ambush and stepped out of bed. I dropped to the floor in crippling pain and grabbed my foot. Roman had left a quarter inch puncture in the bottom of my foot.

Just one of many adventures with the Hedge. That is his nickname.