Fwd: Bubba

                                                            Bubba
                               Dinkledew, Yard Chocolates and Dragon Puffs
                                 (and other things that make your socks wet)

Now we've all heard and read fantastically unbelievable stories about the love of a dog toward his owner. How it's rescued or stayed with through the storm risking its own live to save a hurt or dying master. Stories of incredible heroism dogs have shown even when they themselves are injured. And I have such a story....but I'm not writing about my first dog Buddy today. I'm writing about the other dog most of us have had at one time in our lives. The one that's confused, angered, and frustrated you so much that you've mouthed the words that you'll never have another dog again,.... as your wiping up dog piddle in the front entry.
Now for the sake of this story and on the off chance my writing is attracting anything more than flies, I will change the strong language of 'dog piddle' and 'dog pooh' to 'dinkledew' and 'yard chocolate'.
Now where was I,..oh yes dinkledew in the front entry. And this is without fail! Every time someone walks in the front door (or back door or probably through a window or down a chimney) he does a dinkledew right in front of them. So every time, and here it could be the 100th time they've been there, I greet the grandkids, kids, all family members, door-to-door salesmen, purveyors of religion, mailmen, pizza delivery, and I think even if Jesus knocked on my door I'm on all fours wiping up dinkledew welcoming them to our home. I shake no ones hand in inviting them into our humble abode. It's more likely I'll comment on their foot attire and caution them on where to walk. Unless of course it's Jesus. Seems wrong telling Jesus where to step.
Now in past times I tried to punish Bubba for such behavior.
Oops how forgetful of me, I never introduced Bubba. He's the dog. I didn't want you to think he was the pizza delivery boy and I'm going at him with an umbrella ( it was by the front door) for making my dog do a dinkledew in the entry.
Bubba is our current, and last canine we will ever own. We adopted him after my daughter was discovered by the landlord having the aforementioned dog in a apartment that does not allow dogs. So it was decided she could move back home with us and her dog, or we could just adopt the darling white fluffy bundle of leg humping joy that was Bubba. We opted for the dog, but the wife made it clear it would be on the understanding she would have him fixed first.
Now my only understanding of being fixed, was for the mrs. to nag them off, as in most married male cases. But this was of a medical nature with knives and stitches in the swimsuit area. If dogs wore swimsuits. And I think it was because of this operation and then directly moving in with the wife and myself that he now related his new dwellings to his groinal disfiguration. So Bubba became revengeful toward the floors of my home.
Now I hate wet socks. And I wear socks in the house at all times. Socks were invented to cover everyone's ugly toes. Toes that look like each one of them came from a different persons foot. Socks differentiate us from space aliens. Socks are essential, and they must be dry! But Bubba does his best with dinkledew and his water bowl to make sure my socks remain moist. Dripping!
I say water bowl because this dog drinks water from the bottom of the bowl! He buries his face completely in his aluminum water dish. And then when he resurfaces his furry mustached face, which has absorbed what he didn't drink, he walks all around the floor dripping', sock soaking water everywhere. Then after his trap is set in the kitchen he locates my whereabouts and shakes what didn't drip off his beard all over me. Then, he goes and sits by his bowl to wait for me to refill his dish so he can repeat his sock soaking, slate staining, slobbery slime of  slipping secret solution for me to step in.
I don't try to punish him for his drinking habits. It's his love for the water though that's  ruining my socks life.
There was for a brief period, after trying everything else, that he was punished for dinkledew in the house. That went over like yard chocolates on the rug! As a matter of fact it was yard chocolates on the rug. (please refer to the second paragraph if you've forgotten the yard chocolate metaphor) He would seek revenge for making him go into his bed or down into his room by dropping, more often than not, a lose almost melted yard chocolate and always on a rug.
The animal psychologist suggested because of his breed, which I've been asked by the Bi_h_n breeders not to reveal as it might hurt business, he has a tendency to get an upset stomach when disciplined.
This dog gets an upset stomach with air! I mean I'm use to him, but to a guest who is already annoyed that their  socks are  wet with water or dinkledew or both, and then they're subjected to a whiff of one of his 'dragon puffs' (did you get that metaphor?) it can be eye watering. You don't even imagine it came from somebody in the room! It couldn't! Not an aroma like that! It's something that physically hurts you.
Bubba  gets an upset stomach when people come over. And with one or two guest here, he for sure thinks more will be coming. He then takes it upon himself to be the first to report, to a house full of people with wet socks and probably a damaged olfactory sense, that more have arrived. This is achieved by barking at any sound or movement on the planet earth.
"Would you ROPE ROPE ROPE care for ROPE ROPE another ROPE ROPEROPE ROPE cup of ROPEROPEROPEROPE Bubba! Be quiet! roperope       ro   pe  What was I saying? Ah yes...tea?....No don't leave yet. The grandkids haven't opened their Christmas presents! Besides your socks are already wet, it can't get worse....for your feet!"
The grandkids are the best thing I like about Bubba. They can do anything to him and he just takes it. They fall on him and trip over him but he sticks with them. Never has he tried to bite or nip at them no matter how they treat him. Just last week one of the twins were trying to push him down the stairs but he just sat there and enjoyed the attention.
Bubba is 8 yrs. old now and because of all the trouble I caused others in my youth Bubba will live a long long life. I hope you're enjoying this God. I know, I know 'That which doesn't kill you......' didn't come from the back end of that DOG!

Bob Niles