My friend Stella just brought home a new bundle of joy. She rescued an adorable female basset hound…
Hail Mary, full of grace! The Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…
How could anybody resist this adorable little thing? Look at her face!!
I get it. I’ve rescued a dog or two myself. (And a cat one time.) But I just might have some willpower in resisting a Basset Hound. Once in this lifetime is enough for me…
Growing up, we had a Basset Hound named Mike—for 10 years. Our family adored him. Even though he was a tad bit stubborn and mostly did what he wanted to do.
For example, Mike LOVED going for walks. But if he tired or decided he was done, Mike flopped down on the sidewalk for a rest. And that was it. His walk was over. The options? Carry him home, or cool our heels until he got it moving again.
I remember an incident when we had company visiting our house. My mother had a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table. Mike simply put his face in the cookies and ate them. Just helped himself. Even if we could have rescued a cookie, who would have wanted one?
Good times growing up with “Iron Mike” around…
We called him Iron Mike after he chewed up a razor, and then swallowed most of it. Blade and all. And didn’t DIE.
There was the time he stole my fathers false teeth from the night stand. (Thank goodness he didn’t chew them). But the relative who happened upon Mike lounging with a set of teeth between his paws was beside herself. She thought the dogs teeth had somehow fallen out!!
Iron Mike loved my mother. They often relaxed in our sunroom; both of them on the sofa. Mike curled up with half of his body on my mother’s lap—Mom patting his head.
When Iron Mike was bad, my mother would ask him, “Do you want to get the needle?” (As in Euthanasia…)
But on a good day, she patted his head.
MY FAVORITE BASSET HOUND STORY EVER:
Quite a few years ago, when my kids were in elementary school, we shared a neighborhood with Gus. Many days, Gus napped in the middle of the street. On his side. Short legs stretched out.
The development had narrow roads. When the school bus came through, Gus would NOT move. The bus would stop, honk its horn. No reaction from the dog. Gus continued to count sugar plums.
Whoever was outside: GUS! Come here
Gus opened an eye…some days even lifted his head…then went back to sleep.
Whoever was outside: GUS! Want a treat? Here Gus….GUS!!!
Same thing. Gus opened an eye, (maybe) lifted his head…then went back to sleep
This went on until somebody dragged him (many times by his collar…and still on his side) out of the road.
With no room to back up, the bus had no choice but to roll down the narrow road Gus occupied and turn around in the cul-de-sac. That was the only way to get back out of the development. And the street was too narrow for the bus (or even a car) to get around Gus…
Not sure. But I wonder if that is why our kids had a new bus driver each year?
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
I will pray that Stella has an abundance of patience and keeps her sense of humor. (As well as her sanity…)
Of all people, I understand the need to bring a puppy home. I am weak, when it comes to dogs.
And Lulu (that is her name, so far) is ONE cute puppy.