Socks and Toys ARE alive

Isn't it strange how when you need fresh, clean socks there are never any around, but when you DON'T need them, they seem to taunt you by being found in the far reaching corners of your room--and then, when you go back there to put them to use they dissapear once again? Socks and new undergarments are two things that I don't think I could ever get tired of having around...There's just something nice about a BRAND NEW SET OF SOCKS. Or the other thing, but I wont go into that, beacause that's just not something a girl should discuss on a blog. So, instead of talking about undies, I will talk about my dog, Bubba:


We had about 8 puppies to chose from, and my dad chose the one he found asleep in an old oven that was sitting outside. Bubbs was the fattest and by far the cutest. He had a widows peak like you wouldn't believe, and couldn't even get up the curb of the street until he was 3 months old. We were going to name him Odie orgininally(after the Garfield character), but he just didn't seem to be an Odie. He was dumb, cute, and a total wuss...Bubba was the only name that would do.
He was a very sweet puppy. He'd put his paws around my mom's neck when she'd carry him around and he ALWAYS had that great puppy smell until he turned about one year old and then he became "The Dog" with my mom and dad. He was a TOTAL Juvenile D. when he was older: he dug holes, he dug up the bushes, he totally wrecked my dad's pristine back yard(after 11 years, my dad's still not over that), he smelled, he barked, he chased cats with my sisters still attached to the leash, he ran away, he came back 4 days later, he tried to kill my neighbor's cancerous cat (by barking at it), he ate a tennis ball and got a bowel obstruction and almost died, which made our vet yell at us since we let him play with a tennis ball in the first place, he got hit by a car even though it barely touched his foot--he just sat and stared two days after that happened, and above all HE NEVER UNDERSTANDS THE WORD "NO"(Much like some men.)!
By the time he was 7, Bubba started to calm down and didn't care as much about as many things. The ONE thing that makes him INSANE and drives all of us that have to live with his helping insane is FIREWORKS. He absolutely freaks during the summer time because the branches of a willow tree behind us make a power line zap (which scares him) and he hates the sound of loud noises...The 4th of July is always the worst for poor Bubba, (go figure) but his third birthday, we got him tranquilizers and he didn't even notice, and every summer after that, he's a druggy till October... He hates thunderstorms too, but is actually standable during those.
Despite all his annoying little things, he's the most loyal animal you'll ever have the privilage of meeting. He'd kill anyone that hurt my mom, without a doubt. When my sisters and I would pretend to wrestle, he'd bark and growl and snap at the person doing the beating up, and I'm sure he'd still do it to this day. He's totally petrified of my dad, but man, does he love to talk to him. Dad'll say"Do ya wanna speak?" and he FREAKS OUT! He growls, and whimpers and barks and stretches and pants...He DOES wanna speak. So badly! He wants to tell dad alllll about his day and how he got scared of that HUUGE phesant outside but then how he stood up to it and made IT scared, and what he found and what he burried...But he can't, so he just gets called stupid EVEN though he learned how to shake hands at age 8...And people say you can't teach an old dog new tricks...

Now, Bubba is 10, and he will be 11 in July, and though my parents often threaten to give him to some farm so that he can run around and not be so obnoctous, I know they wouldn't. It'd be like giving away your favorite chair or baby blanket. No, Bubba's here to stay- smell and all. ♥