Like so many people in the D.C. area, we have a dog. A big, goofy yellow Lab. He was a rescue dog that became part of our family the day before Hurricane Isabel landed in our backyard in the fall of 2003. And like the wind he blew in on, he was a wild and destructive force in our home. But patience, love and a plethora of dog treats soon tamed the wild beast, which is a good thing, because I am fairly sure that my wife was ready to trade in either the dog or me.

In an effort to appease her early on, my three boys came up with the brilliant idea of re-naming the lovable-but-nervous pooch after her favorite wine. So Turley was born, and from the moment we changed his name, both his demeanor and his behavior changed in a way that was magical, just like the wine. Best of all, I was out of the proverbial doghouse.