Hello. I'm Jibbs. Wanna play the ball?

Just so we understand from the very beginning, Blog world, your gonna love this bulldog, but if you intend to remain a friend of Jibbs, you most be a ball addict. From the time he opens his little eyes, till he falls out from exhaustion, this is his most present thought! The ball, the ball, and THE BALL! ( I actually say the last THE BALL ringmaster style.)

Meet Mamma's baby, I just love this little thing.....He warms my heart!

All of our boys, but this one are rescues, we really believe in rescue. But, My John loves his bulldogs. Even though, there are plenty of bulldogs, that desperately need rescue, we broke our golden rule.

It was Superbowl Sunday 2006, just a month after our 1st Bullmastiff Bull Henry( hands down the best dog that ever lived) had passed away. John was "the only light" in New Orleans, rebuilding 5 large antebellum homes, that were flooded from Katrina. It was awful here at that time. My John basically wanted me to stay in the house, as the infection, mold and bacteria in the public was dangerously common. New Orleans is about and hour and half (two and half after Katrina without bridges) from the swing, and since he was working horrendous hours with a 20 man crew under his reign (read babysitting a 20 man group of rogue victims from Katrina, even after the flood, New Orleans was still the party capital of the world), he just set up camp on the top floor of one of the flooded homes that he was rebuilding. When I said he was the only light in New Orleans, I'm not kidding. He was one the first contractors to go in. The first time I drove to run supplies, he said, "When you get to the Florida Avenue exit, look to the right, and head for the only light you see, I put it out on the roof so you could find me.." I was lonely, and heartbroken over Bull Henry, and you can only watch so many Judge Judy and Oprah shows before insanity will set in. I wasn't working. There wasn't anywhere to work, it was gone, washed away in the flood. Hell, you couldn't even get to where I worked, the bridge was gone. Roscoe, wasn't the same either, he was depressed, he had never been the only dog, and even though he was now in the #1 spot, he was lonely too.

John came home for a weekend, to shower, shower, and shower. It was so dirty in New Orleans, you just couldn't wash it off. On Sunday morning, while we were reading the paper he said. "It's time for us to get a new bulldog, and here's a pick of the litter American Bulldog for sale. He just turned 6 weeks old, I've already called and I'm going to get him." $1000 was what we paid. I can still see him getting out of the truck after John picked him up. He was so white he was pink. The cutest puppy I ever saw. Daddy went back to work the next day, and he became my life for those weeks I was quarantined. We spent all of those days together just bonding, and the bond is still there. I read you mommy bloggers tell of how you love all of your children equally, but sometimes you have an extra special bond with one of them. I completely understand, and I have no children.

His official name is Mister Jibbs. You may be curious about the Jibbs part, so let me feel you in. Daddy and Bull Henry would wrestle, and John would grab the skin under his chin, and say, "Gimme those Jibbs." It was there own special game, Get the Jibbs. So Jibbs it was, a tribute to Bull Henry.

When we would run supplies to New Orleans, he couldn't touch the ground, it was toxic. So, Daddy would have to hold him up to potty. And just to be extra cautious we would bathe his feet in bleach water.

Did you see up there with his doggles on. Too cute for words.

I've got lots of pictures to share with you, and stories of Jibbs and his brothers, but I've going to leave you with this one last thought.

There is only one exception to Jibbs being Mamma's Ninny Baby, when daddy pulls the boat out of the backyard, and starts getting it ready

That's when he's Daddy's Fishing Buddy, he forgets Mamma even exists.

Next up Big Bad bRufus!

Love,

The Bumpkin