Is he or isn't he?

No, I'm not speaking about the Glam rocker!

Rather, an American cocker, my personal Idol, who since his earliest days as a pup has displayed his own sort of ambiguity.

At first, I tried to rationalize away the signs -- how Charlie seemed to have an extra spring in his step whenever he emerged from the doggy day spay freshly coiffed and sporting a new bandana, his disdain for dirty surfaces, refusal to walk in the rain without his favorite fire-engine red jersey, his preference for squatting instead of hiking his leg up over the nearest hydrant, and how, when going to chew on my shoes, he always picked out the most expensive, if not bedazzled, ballroom pair.

"Charlie is a metrosexual," I thought to myself. "He is just a high-maintenance diva like his mother and nothing more."

When Charlie went head-over-heels for Mario, the neighborhood beagle, my instinct was to ignore the obvious and delight in their "close friendship."

And even after Max entered the picture and my dog, the one I had picked out and raised since puppyhood, was curled up at my boyfriend's feet whenever he had the chance (and would GROWL when I tried to relocate him near me), I was jealous, but never thought anything more.

But the trend has continued for years now. His little tail wags when he has the opportunity to sniff the butts of little boy dogs, but he barks at bitches that get too close.

What else can I think? Since Charlie was castrated at 8-months old, he seems to have developed a case of, what can only be described as, 'testicles- envy'. That's right, folks. Charlie prefers other...er...uh... cockers, like himself.

And, really, who could blame him?