I told you the story a while back about Hubby’s first best friend, BoBo. We got BoBo when we lived in an apartment and about a year after we got married we moved to a duplex. We still had Smokey too. Unfortunately, the night we moved into our duplex Smokey died. I still think it had something to do with the exterminators. Smokey had gotten soaked in flea killer spray by my idiot ex brother in law before he was my EX brother in law. Genius thought that since the bottle said it was okay to spray it on their bedding surface then surely it meant that it was okay to immerse the entire animal into the liquid CONCENTRATE and let her have a good soak, which she immediately licked off, thereby ingesting untold amounts of the poison. She never was really “right” after that incident. There was nothing the vet could do because by the time I had gotten home it was HOURS after she had already ingested it. All they could do was give her a good bath to try to get what remained on her skin off and hope for the best. Anyway, she seemed to be a little worse every time we had the apartment exterminated and the day before we moved into the duplex the owners had it exterminated. I really think there was a connection.
Anyway, back to BoBo. She loved it in the duplex because we had a fenced in yard and she could go back there and run around like crazy. Hubby worked for a cafeteria style restaurant at the time in the Gentilly Woods section of New Orleans. He had a round table at the end of the line where all the “regulars” sat and one of them was a veterinarian. Now to say this vet was old is kind of an understatement. He graduated from veterinary school in 1928. Yes, not BORN in 1928, not graduated high school in 1928, not graduated college in 1928 but graduated VET school in 1928. Yeah, he was pretty old.
One day when he came in to eat, he told hubby that someone had brought in a little stray mutt he thought we might be interested in. He was BoBo’s doctor and thought this puppy would make a good companion for her. He told us it was going to be a small dog and it was a mixed breed male. He told us in a few months we’d have to bring him in to be neutered but he’d be okay for a few months. As long as we were keeping him in a fenced in yard he’d probably be okay but we’d also need to keep an eye on BoBo to make sure when she came in heat that we’d want to bring her in to have her fixed so that we didn’t end up with a litter of small black mixed breed puppies being the progeny of the inevitable breeding of BoBo and Pookie.
Pookie was a sweet little dog. We brought Pookie home and they loved playing together. It’s really funny because neither of us ever thought to check to make sure Pookie really was a boy. I mean, for Christ’s sake… the VET told us it was a boy! One day Pookie, who by the way was turning into a rather large “mutt” and looked remarkably like a purebred Labrador retriever, was in the laundry room grooming himself when I happened to glance down. Hubby was in the living room, I think getting ready to go to work. I walked in and said “Honey, didn’t doc say that Pookie was a boy?” to which hubby replied yes, why? And I said, “Um, I was just in the laundry room washing clothes and Pookie was washing himself and I noticed HE was missing some parts….” Hubby asked what I meant and I said “I know I’m not a vet, but I did used to work in an animal shelter and I swear I think Pookie is a GIRL! If not, then he’s missing some MAJOR components.” Hubby walks in the laundry room and goes “Well, I’ll be darned!”
We had noticed that “he” was getting kind of pudgy but had no clue until shortly thereafter when our “boy” gave birth to six puppies. Apparently one of the neighbor’s dogs was either jumping the fence to get to her or they found a kinky way to procreate through the fence. Either way, I think the resultant puppies started #1’s love for animals. She had been born about 9 months after we moved into the duplex and the puppies were born about 4 or 5 months later. She used to try to crawl around after them. Neither of them were very proficient at that yet but she would sit there rubbing on them (read smacking) and sometimes they would end up prone on the floor together. Whether she fell over or they both fell over, not sure but they’d both be laying, not sitting anymore.
When she was about a year old we moved across the river to Gretna, LA to a house with a fenced in back yard. We had given away all of Pookie’s puppies and had her “fixed” but with a baby (and me pregnant again) we hadn’t had the money to get BoBo spayed yet so she ended up blessing us with 5 puppies (we had already given Pookie’s away). Again, it was an immaculate conception (or some very sneaky males dogs) since we never let her out of the fenced in yard. Again #1 LOVED those puppies. Every morning hubby would get his morning paper and he and #1 would go out on the back porch and play with the puppies. If one of them scooted too far away from BoBo she would track it down and carry it over to its mommy and try to force feed it. It was so cute. She loved our kitties too, but she loved the puppies even more.
I guess some things never change since now she owns about 200 pounds worth of dogs. Yes, 200 POUNDS in the form of three dogs. She got her first one when she was a junior in college. Her then boyfriend (now her husband) was going to school abroad for the semester. He was in Fiji or Australia or somewhere and she found out about this puppy and begged him to let her have it and he told her fine as long as it wasn’t one of those teensy little things (you know that’s not manly! LOL). Then shortly before they were going to move to Nashville someone asked them to take Bo. Mr. Bojangles if you will. Mr. Bojangles, or Bo as we call him, is about 80 or 85 pounds of chocolate lab. Erratic, uncontrollable chocolate lab. And #1 swears he’s retarded. He eats anything. Especially anything you leave within his reach on a counter that he’s not supposed to have.
Once they had a friend keep him when they went out of town and the girl’s parents were cooking dinner and had a pound of butter (still in the wrapper) on the counter and he ate the whole thing. He loves butter and doesn’t mind a little wrapper to go with it. Once SIL was getting ready to make stir fry and he had 2 really nice 1 pound steaks on the counter and turned his back for like 30 seconds to put a CD in the changer and turned back around and they were GONE. Both of them… and Bo was sitting there licking his chops. And once he ate an entire tube of Neosporin off the counter. He’s eaten #1’s shoes. Seriously, anything within his reach is fair game.
Then after they had lived in Nashville for a while, the people who had somehow gained “custody” of SIL’s childhood dog had to get rid of her. So, they inherited Cosmo who is, I think, half Rottweiler and half Doberman or German Shepherd or something but whatever she is, she is ALL BIG. I would venture to say she is close to 120 pounds. She’s a sweet dog but getting kind of old. But they love her just the same.
So, who rules the roost? The first one of course! Oh, did I forget to tell you about her? Her name is Tinky. She is about 4 or 5 pounds. She’s a teacup Chihuahua. BUT – She is definitely the “Alpha” dog. Funny thing is I think she has actually convinced the other two that she can and will kick their butts. So much for not getting a teensy dog.