Now before you go getting all excited, thinking that Mrs B has been on the receiving end of some of my intimate advances, and as a result, the great stork has delivered a bundle of screaming, vomiting pooping joy, you'd be wrong.
Nope. We've decided to go for a bundle of barking, chewing, pooping joy instead.
Or Bailey, as we've decided to call him.
Yep. Not content with having just one member of the house that sheds fur, eats, sleeps, craps on the rug and sniffs crotches, or Dad as I'm better known, and not content with having just one dog, we've gone and got another one.
Now, this animal is cute. I mean real cute. If I had his looks, I'd have more women falling at my feet through love and admiration, rather than vomiting all over my feet through my 'unique' looks and smell, than I'd know what to do with.
This however, is where his list of endearing qualities end.
Because he is without doubt, the dumbest, smelliest, dumbest, badly behaved, dumbest, leaky and dumbest living creature known to man.
Yes. Even more so than me. Honestly!
When most people, or animals fart, there is a general waving of the arms, and passing of the comments such as "what crawled inside you and died", and opening of windows. When Bailey farts, clothes have to be burnt, buildings have to be demolished, exclusion zones set up and a natural disasters appeal has to be launched on all broadcasting media. He doesn't so much clear a room, as an entire continent.
On the plus side, it's very good for clearing unwanted house guests, such as neighbours, door to door salesmen and in-laws.
He will absolutely not do as he is told. We have attempted the basic commands, such as "sit", "leave", "lie down" and "no". I can only assume some of the meaning of these words has been lost in translation. For example:-
"Bailey, Sit" - Bailey then proceeds to tug at your laces until bored, which is after about 3 seconds, then licks his "pink lipstick". (Come on people, don't make me take a photo!)
"Bailey, leave" - Bailey attacks what he is supposed to be leaving with renewed vigour, then humps the settee.
"Bailey, lie down" - Bailey chews the nearest and most expensive piece of furniture, then sniffs the mother in laws crotch.
"Bailey, no" - Bailey farts and sniffs his butt to see if it really was him that farted.
Then dumps on the rug.
But by far and away the worst thing about this animal, is his brainpower. Or lack of it.
The fluff in my belly button has more intelligence than he does. We own pillow cases that can work things out quicker than him.
In 5 months, he hasn't been able to work out that the kitchen floor is more slippery than the other floors in the house. He comes running in from outside at full tilt, and uses a combination of the freezer and his face for brakes.
Or, if I get in the way, then a combination of his face and my groin. Honestly, I can't recommend highly enough the feeling of at least 20kg of Labrador connecting with your "gentleman jewels" at warp speed. The little sod finds them every time.
On his very rare calm moments, when he is sat still long enough to be stroked, he leans on your hand so much, that when you suddenly stop stroking him, he falls over. This is a great source of
Absolutely everything is considered food. Shoes, socks remote controls, mobile phones and live electrical cables. Absolutely nothing is too precious/expensive/downright bloody dangerous to eat.
Talking of eating, this animal can clear nearly half a kilo of food faster than a Dyson. If I could convince him that house dust and animal fur were food, I would lift his back legs up, and use him as an upright vacuum cleaner. We would have the cleanest house in the whole neighbourhood.
But by far and away the dumbest thing this animal has done, is lost a testicle. Or not grown one at all. We aren't quite sure which scenario we are working with here. Repeated trips to the vets have resulted in much scratching of heads and prodding, poking and fondling. Had I have known this was a sure fire way to get felt up, I'd have happily "misplaced" one of mine. Apparently, one of Baileys balls hasn't dropped yet. Or it could be in his leg. Or his stomach. Or nowhere at all. If I'm prepared to sell my house and kids, and take the nice vet the proceeds of said transactions, he is quite happy to play " Hunt the gonad" with my dog. I am currently considering cheaper options. Squeezing the little him hard until it pops into place is currently the most recommended option. I am however, open to suggestions.
Now it may be that I have painted Bailey in a slightly less than positive light here. That you may have the impression that I see all his faults as negatives, and I regret taking on the little "golden git" at all
Nothing couldbe further from the truth. Apart from the fact that at present, I am not the dumbest member of the household, I now have someone that I can blame almost all of my "little mishaps" on.
The odd trouser cough I may inadvertently let slip. "Bailey!"
The damp patch in my groin region. "Bailey!"
The large turd on the rug that is very obviously waaaaaaaay too big to come out of such a cute and cuddly little creature, not to mention the fact that he hasn't eaten sweetcorn, as far as we know anyway.........well, you get the idea.
The fact is, I have a cover for all my faults. And if he is not willing, then certainly a none the wiser cover. And in my life, with all my faults, believe me, that is no bad thing.
Bailey, I hope you never change. if you do, I am screwed.
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