Every Dog Has It's Day
(also known as Bubba and Earl’s Cousin Comes A Call’n)
By Trixie

I’ve just had to share this with ya…it’s priceless. Heheheh…I get tickled just thinking about…heheh…’cuse please…but if you’d been there…heeee…haha.haha. Ahem…okay…okay…on with my story.

Being the family mutt, I’m privy to things the outside world doesn’t know about the Queen…or should I say, Her Royal Hiney…hehee…okay…okay…

Anyhoo…last Friday night I was outside assuming the position when a strange car entered the driveway. I turned in that direction and something resembling Ronald McDonald emerged from the vehicle. I kid you not. You should have seen him and sister, he was strutting like he was God’s gift to women. I’m thinking…what a moron! I finished up my uh…well, business and made a beeline for the door. I wasn’t gonna miss out on this one for the world. I wanted a straight shot of the Queen’s face when she opened the door on Prince Charmless. Sure enough, the door opened and if the look on her face didn’t say “OH CRAP!” then I don’t know my cats.

“Well, howdy…I’m Bobby Wayne and lovins’ my game…you must be-”…his eloquent speech was cut short with the Queens, “Uh huh, come in.” I couldn’t help myself. I fell over in hysterics but had enough sense to keep my laughter muffled. The Queen jerked around and said, “Trixie, you alright?” I really had to pull myself together because I knew there’d be more and I didn’t want to miss a minute. In order to have the best vantage point, I took a seat at the end of the room with that other thing that lives here, the cat. I started taking bets with Mr. Fur Breath on which excuse the Queen would use this time…let’s see there’s, “You know, I’ve just gotten over a nasty stomach…” or “You’re just not gonna believe this one, but I forgot…” and of course, if the guy’s a real loser, (like Mr. Magic here) then she’d use her no-fail, “I hate to tell you this, but my husband came back home last night, and well…” I mean, come on people…how lame is that? But…on the other hand, I will have to admit that last one does seem to send them packing.

Well, as it turns out, all bets were off because no excuses were needed. Nope. Not one single excuse. It seems that when Bobby Wayne, (cowboy extraordinaire and wrestle mania hopeful), bent over to sit on the couch, there was a large, atomic sound that came from HIM. The same kind that I HAVE BEEN SENT TO THE BACK OF HOUSE FOR!

For about the next ten seconds, there was dead silence. Then would you believe this idiot tried to pin it on…you guessed it, ME. Yep…mistake number two for loverboy…(First mistake being he was dog ugly…get it? dog ugly?…heehee) He said “Bad dog! Bad dog!” I looked up at the Queen like “You’re not buying that, are you? I mean, how pathetic.” Well, thank the good Lord she was looking for an out anyway, so with hands on her hips and her chin held high, she informed our boot-kickin’ redneck guest that her dog did not do that kind of thing. I’m thinking, “uh huh…since when?”

Anyhoo, she basically called him a liar, and apparently that didn’t sit well with our root-n’ toot-n’ cowboy. In about two shakes of a lamb’s tail, or in human time, two minutes later, we watched with relief as Mr. Wrong made a hasty retreat to his car and did the Nascar thing out the drive. The Queen did a few sniffs with her royal nose, sprayed a bit, then looked at me and said “Trixster old gal, you’ve saved me from shear boredom tonight so you’re getting a special treat.” Well, what can I tell ya…I do what I can. After all, every dog has it’s day…am I right?

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