FIRST OF ALL: Have you entered my Caption Contest yet? No? Well, what are you waiting for? GO. ENTER. NOW. I'm finding everyone's captions/dialogues vastly amusing, and, as we all know, I live to be amused. Plus, there is a cool prize.
*ahem* Now on with today's post.
In continuing the Dead Pets theme of the week, allow me to introduce you to Buster:
Buster, aka Boober the Wonder Dog, came into our lives shortly after TG and I were married. The Boobster's mother was a ginger-colored cocker spaniel who showed up on my mom's doorstep right before the wedding, gave birth to eight puppies, stuck around until they were six weeks old, and left.
If you ask me, that was one helluva well-trained dog.
My mom, of course, thought it was some sort of sign from above that TG and I were meant to have one of the puppies, four of whom were blonde and four of whom were black. ("Ginger," as Mom so aptly called her, apparently got around.)
We chose a black, curly-haired butterball, mainly because he licked us more than all the other puppies combined. We thought it meant he liked us. More likely, it was just that he couldn't contain that tongue.
The first night home, we put our un-housebroken puppy in the bathroom, in a cardboard box, with a pillow and a towel, and added a stuffed animal for company. But he missed his litter mates, and didn't hesitate to show it, employing the most heart-rending whines and whimpers to let us know he was not satisfied with any old teddy bear.
He wanted a heartbeat.
Now, TG and I had decided on a tough love route--we'd have to let him cry it out for a few nights. He'd get used to it, and eventually learn to sleep on his own. Seemed to be working pretty well, or so I thought. Until I woke up and realized TG was not beside me in bed. I found him in the bathroom, leaning up against the tub, asleep, with the little black fuzzball cradled under his chin.
That's when I knew TG was destined to be a good father. :)
Aaaah, Buster. What can I say about dear old Boober Dog? Well, look at that face: totally sweet, even if he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box.
Random Boober Dog Facts:
~Buster would eat almost* anything, from the handles off of TG's prize set of screwdrivers to the contents of the cat's litter box. Even apples from the tree out back, but only when DD fed them to him.
~Crayons were his favorite. (See above crayon reference. Uh, yeah.) He once ate a whole box, and later decorated the yard with "Easter egg" poops.
~Buster peed when he got over-excited. Sitting on TG's lap always seemed to excite him.**
~The only person Buster ever bit was a politician who lived next door to TG's parents. (We found out later the man had a mistress, whom he beat regularly. Apparently Buster was a good judge of character.)
~Buster loved the water. He was also fiercely protective of our kids, whom I'm sure he considered to be his younger siblings. He felt obligated to stand guard whenever the hose was turned on out back.
~Buster died on our son's third birthday. Sadly, the only clear memory Son has of him is of the time Buster peed on the Slip-'n-Slide. (Hey, he was excited.)
I miss you, Boober Dog. But I'm sure Doggy Heaven is more entertaining place with you there.
*The only thing Buster ever turned up his nose at were the biscuits TG made using the baking soda from the open package we kept in the fridge as a deodorizer. We were out of baking powder, and TG was forced to improvise. (We didn't eat the biscuits, either. In case you were wondering.)
**What can I say? It excites me too. I, however, don't pee when excited. Much.