I read that boxers are considered the clowns of the canine universe.
In Baxter ‘The Booger’s‘ case this is most definitely true. He is determined to raise his mommy’s spirits come hell or high water, and spends most of his waking hours attempting to crack me up. Yesterday, he succeeded.
This isn’t the first time he has gotten his bowling ball stuck in his mouth, but with four hours on the clock, it was certainly the longest. The poor boy was worn out from trying to dislodge it from his jaw, but wouldn’t let me approach to lift it off his bottom teeth. He finally exhausted himself, tossed back a few tequila shooters, and passed out, defeated and resigned to his fate. I told him he looked chic and fashionable, and to consider it like a red ortho retainer. I heard what sounded like “Bullsheed, Mom” coming from his mouth, but with a 7″ ball stuck in his pie hole, who can say with any certainty? Because I really didn’t think my baby boy, brilliant and precocious as he is, had started swearing yet. But isn’t the Mom always the last to know?
That’s when inspiration struck and I crept into the kitchen and grabbed a can of PAM. Quietly kneeling down beside him I blasted that nozzle into his mouth. Peeved by this turn of events, he violently threw his massive head from side to side until the silicon-slimed orb went flying, knocking over a vase full of daffodils and forsythia, which drenched the cranky, 15-year-old balding cat, Bette Davis Eyes, who promptly put up her dukes and whipped that 80 lb. puppy into submission.
Some days are just too special.