Seems to be my week for dog blogs. I won't tell you about my favorite of all my dog companions.  He was a blue-eyed red Husky named Sky Hawk. You may read about him in my book, Ghost Walk, which should be out in August. 

I did, however, promise to tell you all about my purebred Basset Hound.  His name was Sir Bernard Kensington Paddington, but he was such a lovable doofus everyone called him "Bubba." I was a busy young widow rearing four teenagers alone, and my assistant buyer had to get rid of him, as he and his wife were going to have a baby. Actually, it was a two for one deal. They also had a small German Shepherd named Pepper my younger daughter fell in love with, so we adopted both of them. The photo below looks almost like him, but I was so busy I didn't have time to take any pictures. Of course, this one is photo-shopped. Bubba liked his chow, but he never owned a lunch pail.  Also you'd have to imagine his ears about two inches longer. He was always stepping on them!

I had a redwood chaise lounge which I liked to sit in of an evening and sip a cup of coffee while watching the stars come out.  Bubba would come running and leap into my lap. Suddenly my face would be slathered with wet doggie kisses as his big ole tail whammed between my feet. Bubba was not always good at coming when called, nor was Pepper. My daughter and I decided to enroll them in obedience classes.  It was great fun for my daughter, Pepper, and Bubba, but totally humiliating for me!

He did just fine with all the commands - sit, stay, heel, but when it was time to trot them around in circles while they were learning to heel, Bubba's short little legs just wouldn't allow him to keep up with the Rotweilers, Malamutes, and German Shepherds in our class. They would lap us three times.  Bubba tripping on his ears didn't help his speed any, either.  The other dogs and their owners, including my own daughter, laughed at us. Even Sherry, the woman who owned the obedience school couldn't keep herself from it. Bubba didn't mind. He just kept on truckin' until we finished our laps. I know my face was beet red.

I kept Bubba for several years, until my first grandchild was on the way. My grandchild was born three months premature and weighed 1 lb., 15 oz., so I knew right then I had to find a new home for Bubba.  One of Bubba's paws was bigger around than that baby's head! It turned out a girl who worked with me had an uncle who bred Bassets, had a ten year old son, and his little ranch was 640 acres. He knew the breeder who had bred Bubba, so he was willing to take the dog sight unseen.  Sir Bernard Kensington Paddington lived out his days at stud, swimming in farm ponds, and basking in the Oklahoma sun after playing with his boy.

Tomorrow or the next day, I'll tell you about my first "granddogger," Miss Dusty from Durango.