What Rainy Days Are For

It has been raining cats and dogs here on The Mississippi Gulf Coast. Everyday last week, and my yard is one big mud puddle.
You all remember Jibbs, my beautiful white American Bulldog right?
If you haven't met him, you can go back and read his story here.

It's hard to keep this one clean. As I have told you, he lives to play the ball.
The ball, The ball, The ball. American Bulldogs are very active, and must be exercised regularly.

The only reason we get great pictures like this, is because we hold the ball while taking them.
He was so restless this weekend in all the rain. Mamma too, so I decided to take a nap before the Bears game on Sunday.

Doggy and Daddy fun apparently took place while Mamma was sleeping. I found these pictures on the camera late last night. I would have never known otherwise.

He was about to bust to play the ball, so I can't really be all that mad.

They covered their tracks pretty well. Jibbs was clean as a whistle,and inside sleeping before I ever woke up.

Look at the dirt in his mouth. He was really having fun! Sometimes even dogs need to let loose, and go "hog wild."
How was your weekend?
Love,
The Bumpkin

Doggie Prozac?

It is has been raining for 3 days here in Southern Mississippi. Rufus has had enough of it. He looks so depressed, do you think they make doggie Prozac?
Love,
The Bumpkin

13-16

E.A.R.S. is the acronym for Emergency Animal Rescue Soceity, a cause we champion.
Because this guy gave us a heck of an emergency on Friday night, I decided it was time to introduce you to paws #13-#16 that melt my heart.

This is E.A.R.S., he's the Head of Security at The Bumpkin's! Daddy's Black Stealth Bomber. No cat, paperman, or crazy next door neighbor gets by this one. A long howl which will wake his brothers, who then further investigate, is his calling card.

Ears came by the way of the dog catcher. Our dog catcher is commited to rescue, thus drops off, not picks up at The Bumpkin's. As a matter of fact, The Boys love the dog catcher, and are always excited to see him. Ears was arrested for eating newspapers. Black dog in the summer heat, screams rescue, so we "fostered" him upon request.


He stayed a couple of weeks, so we could really get a feel for his personality, and then was adopted by a Marine stationed not to far away. We assumed everything was fine. Next stop, The Humane Society of South Mississippi. John is attending an American Humane Red Star Animal Emergency seminar. I'm proud to say he is now FEMA certified to set up and command an animal shelter in any emergency (I love this man!). During the seminar John hears a very distinct howl, investigates, and finds our Ears locked up in jail. The bond was $80, and his balls! Rescued again. The Bumpkin decides to take a ride on the swing a couple of months later. I open the door to head to the swing, and see Ears dangling by his collar from the picket fence in the front yard, limp. No time to panic, I run to the fence, see a twitch in his toes, grab him, pull him down, and the second he hit the ground, he gasped once, and took off running. Rescue #3! John decided that was too many times for us to save his little life, without recognition. So, he offered him a job. Nightime security watch in exchange for a forever home. After consulting with his brothers, he learned that Rufus got a couch, Roscoe gets to roam on occasion, and Jibbs sleeps with Mamma and Daddy every night. They told him he should get something really good if he was required to stay outside.
Ears demanded:
1 pressure treated, elevated, air-conditioned dog house. Complete with picture window.

Further amenities were to include: Metal roofing, seamless gutters with downspout, wall to wall carpeting, easy access doggie door, large bathroom in rear, and kitchen priveleges.

DEAL DADDY!

Rescue #4, Friday night, the emergency I mentioned earlier. The Bumpkin was in her new office, attempting to catch up with all of you after being away for Mardi Gras. John pounds on the window beside me. I see him holding Ears, and he says "Get out here now, Hurry!" When I round the corner, I see this in Ears' foot and mouth!

A 3" lure, with two sets of treble hooks (For all non-fishing girls that's 6 hooks altogether). 1 hook in his front paw, 1 through his bottom lip, 1 through his tongue, and 1 through his top lip. Thank goodness for John's training, both Marine Corps and Animal Rescue. "Don't panic, keep Ears calm, I've got to get wire cutters I'll be right back." Ears is steadily clawing at this awful thing in his mouth. I hold him down, soothe him, talk to him. In the background John is unable to find sharp wire cutters, he is throwing tools everywhere in a desperate search. We call in the troops. Billy and Jo (always our back-up, Thank you, we love you both!) are at the video store, he has some sharp wire cutters. They are on the way. In the meantime, John finds a pair that may work. He begans to systematically cut away the hooks. First the ones that aren't stuck in him, to prevent further incident. Then he cuts away the heavy part of the lure, to ease the pain of the weight of the hooks on the dog. Back-up arrives and we move our patient inside to the living room floor. He is being so calm, and easy. Billy is afraid he's gonna bite, but continues in spite of his fear. Remember, fishing lures, are designed not to come out easily. Furthermore, each hook has a barb on it, to prevent the hook from coming out, so they had to be pushed through instead of pulled out. Jo holds the light, I soothe the dog, John and Billy cut and push, and pry open the dogs mouth. The first hook is finally out. We let Ears rest for a minute, John thinks of Orajel. He coats the other entry spots with Orajel, and removes the hooks!
My John is amazing, sometimes he is just amazing, he can handle anything. The vet bill would have been well into the $1000 range. I tell you ladies, he is a keeper. John says the only reason it went so well for us was because Ears was "the best little patient ever." He let us do what needed to be done, and as long as we sweet talked him, he was really into to us getting that thing out of his mouth.
Ears is fine. We determined he climbed in the boat, and got it stuck in his foot, and then tried to chew it out of his foot, and the second treble got caught.

Thank you Daddy! Saved my life again!

Hi Blog friends! Nice to meet you! I'm just fine! Look what Mamma let me do that night, cause I wasn't feeling well. The guest room, not bad for the outside dog uh?
P.S. "Nope think I'll pass on the fishing, Thank You!"



Coming soon the last four paws, the real rescue...next is Red!

Love,

The Bumpkin

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

#1-Roscoe

Blog world meet Roscoe our #1 dog. Now, he's not #1 because we love him more than the others, he's #1 because he's the oldest. Rescued to be a friend for the first #1 Bull Henry. Bull Henry was lonely while My John and I were away and working, so we began the search for a friend. The newspaper ad said "Free Great Dane to a good home." He was delivered in an Escalade, and I remember opening the back hatch, and seeing him for the first time. Since Bull Henry was a 140 pounder at that time, we knew we needed a big boy to be compatible, but oh my goodness we were awfully surprised at how big he was. So, he became our #2. He filled the role of buddy to Bull, and worked his way right into our hearts. The lady who brought him told us his original owner had joined the military, and was going to be away a lot, and that he had been living with her and her 5 little dogs, but she felt he needed more attention, and wasn't much experienced with big boys, so she had been searching for him a home. As with most rescues, they tell potential rescuers only the "good" parts. We eventually learned the probable reason he was adopted out, was well, he's a Houdini of sorts. Literally, the smartest 4 pawed escape artist we have ever experienced. This one can turn the door handle and set off on adventure any time he chooses. He loves to go on an excursion, and it wasn't to the last 2 years, that My John finally built enough fence, and latches on the outside to keep his roaming to the bare minimum. We always questioned the Great Dane. We knew it wasn't quite right. The veterinarian finally nailed it once when he broke his toe on an escape run, and told us he was a Catahoula Leopard Hound, and one of the most beautiful ones he had ever seen. After research we found he had hit it right on the nose. There are two types of Catahoulas, Catahoula Currs, and Catahoula Leopard Hounds, thus the spots like Roscoe's. A normal gate latch for Roscoe is a joke. Remember the five little dogs that he originally lived with? Well he has forgotten them either, so when Houdini escapes, not only does he run the neighborhood, but he also goes around and um, well um, he sets free all the little dogs in the neighborhood by nosing the latch up, pushing the gate open, and then he and little dogs start a doggy train around the neighborhood. Try figuring out which dog goes in what gate before the owner finds out they're gone.

Roscoe can also smile, see up there in the first picture. Also when I post the Katrina story in the future, you will never guess who ran away in 120 mph winds, and Daddy had to dodge metal roofing and chase him with the truck, smack dab in the middle of the hurricane. Our best guess is that he's around 7 years old, but he's still healthy as an ox, and can still out run any Greyhound you care to pair against him. When Bull Henry passed away, in 2005 he slid from #2 to #1, and we added a friend for him, to fill his empty buddy role.

Come back for the next post, and your gonna meet Mamma's Ninny Baby! See you then!

Love,

The Bumpkin