A Week of Firsts. . .

Well. What a week it has been!

I am trying to write this with Bubba squirming away on my lap because he's just noticed where we keep his treasured treats bag. He is now biting the computer wire because I won't let him on the table. He is now repeatedly licking my hands *sigh*. He is now on the floor. He is now having a great big piss which I will now have to clean up. He is now walking in the piss. He is now looking at me with those big, sad brown eyes, his two wet front paws on my clean jeans. I am now putting my hands round Bubba's neck...

The last one was obviously a joke.

The wee is now cleaned up.

It has, as the title suggests, been a week of firsts. Both for us, and of course our little man. Bubba and Ali shared their first shower (bizarre and also very sweet) and Bubba had his first bark, which has naturally continued into many more. It happened when the man (to sound like a Blaxploitation character: 'Yo Da man is comin'' 'Whatchu talkin' about the man Willis?' etc.) came round to fix up the bathroom tiles with sealant. As that strange man came into Bubba's domain something deep inside him was awoken. I imagine he saw in his mind images of wolves howling, lions savagely tearing apart zebras, and eagles catching whatever the Hell it is eagles catch as Boston's 'More Than a Feeling' played in the background; all before his voice bellowed a moderately impressive bark. A bark that said 'You just watch yourself mate. Because I am the man of this house and I will take you down.' Except he didn't bark once, in a way that warned, but also showed restraint. Oh no. Bubba barked repeatedly, like a whiny little kid saying: 'But I don't want him in my hooooouse. I don't even know hiiiiim. Why won't he leeeeeeave? Muuuuuum. Make him go awaaaaaay.'

I got to hear the bark by looking through the letter box to set him off when I got home. It was deeper than expected. Later when we watched 'The Last of the Dogmen' Bubba was calm while the women actors did their thing but as soon as a bald man or a man with facial hair - or worse, a bald man with facial hair - came on the TV that was it. He had to save us from this vision of evil. And he did so with a pre-pubescent bark and incredible bravery, going so far as to jump down from the sofa to look behind the television in an attempt to give this stranger what for. Bubba then had to go in the kitchen for time-out / so we could watch the film in peace. We brought him back in later when the majority of men in the film had long hair and soft Native American voices but the horses they were riding on were another threat, causing Bubba again to get down from the sofa and bellow at the four-legged beasts to get the fuck out of his house. He congratulated himself on his heroism with a piss on the carpet.

On Wednesday Ali took Bubba for his first visit at the vets. He barked at all of the dogs, save for one that was a border terrier like his mummy. She got respec'. The vet said he is healthy and weighs a ridiculously small amount like 22 grams or something. On the 15th he will have his second jab and from the 22nd we will be able to take him for walks. Bubba and Ali are spending a lot of time together because Ali starts uni in a few weeks and the two are bonding well. So well, in fact, that when Ali went to leave the house yesterday Bubba barked at her in outrage that she would want to do something without him.

This morning Bubba, Ali and I were chilling in bed. Us humans had a coffee while Bubba kept trying to drink it so we shut him outside. To spite us he weed right outside the door before going very quiet. Suddenly Ali said: 'What the fook?' and lifted the curtain to see this:

Bubba had run through the kitchen, outside, over the plants and on to our windowsill in an attempt to get back into the bedroom. We watched him for a about a minute laughing until he made this face:

Then we let him in.

I can't really think of much else. He got his first little dog outfit (seen above in the first photo) which says 'Little Buddy'. He knows how to sit on command, still poohs on the paper nine times out of ten and his wees are still hit and miss. Biting is an issue, particularly yesterday when he bit the tender skin on my inner upper arm and made me cry while we were playing with his chew toy, but we are in the midst of a hierarchy battle and he is teething. Overall the first week has been testing of our patience but ultimately a joy.

The Beginning.

It all started with an advert on a pet website. Well, it actually all started when a 'jellied eewls sowwt' in Kent decided to breed a handsome, happy, obese, studmuffin of pure pedigree pug with a pretty (albeit scruffy) little terrier to see what would happen. What came of that experiment was a litter of four beautiful puppies - two of which were gone by the time we read the ad. One of whom was destined to be ours.

Ali and I didnt plan on getting a dog quite so soon. 'So soon' meaning a week after we moved into our new flat. But fate, and my Mum and Ali's impulsive buying behaviours, meant plans were moved forward by two months. Our Christmas present to each other arrived early (note to any kids reading: that doesn't mean Father Christmas doesn't exist; it just means we are better than you. Try harder next year.) and is making himself comfortable in his new surroundings. So far he is doing OK in toilet training. Poohs are nearly always on the paper (thank Christ) and wees, well. . . you can't have it all.


We got Bubba from a suburban area in South East London. His name had been decided for about a year before we even met him, or before he even existed and was just a twinkle in his hunky-chunky Dad's eye. The name is from Forrest Gump. I know as soon as I wrote that your brain instinctively shouted 'Ruuuurrn Faaarrest! Ruuuurrn!' It's like saying 'Pirates of the Caribbean' to a group of women and seeing them get that indolent, faraway look in their eyes which is a mixture of both sexual arousal and a yearning for a swashbuckling adventure that will never happen because Captain Jack Sparrow is just Johnny Depp in a costume. The real Jack Sparrow would have halitosis, three rotten stumps for teeth, scurvy, scabs, various wounds or lost body parts from battle and a probable penchant for rape. It certainly wouldn't be a Disney ending in real life.

Anyway, Bubba in Forrest Gump is the big lipped black guy who becomes Forrest's best friend and we thought it would be a cute name for a dog. Our first choice for a dog was the so-ugly-yet-so-scrummy French Bulldog breed but have you seen how much they cost? Bitches be playin' bro.We also thought about a pug, but again, it seems the more characteristically comedically grotesque an animal looks (while also managing to somehow look lovable and extremely wantable) the more expensive they are. But on the plus side cross breeds live longer, so really we are getting more for our money and also spending less. Swings and roundabouts.

The first time we saw Bubba he was with his brother in their crate. Ali and I were both given a dog to cuddle and I was given Bubba. He had beautiful markings on his face, such as the little black pouch around his mouth which looks like he's been eating coal, his expressive black eyebrows and the little lines at the corner of each eye that make him appear Egyptian, or a fan of Amy Winehouse. He also had the puggy snub nose and little triangle ears. Bubba was excitable in the extreme to be getting attention and dealt with this by licking my face, clawing at my chest and neck, and then biting my thumbs hard with his needle teeth until he drew blood. What can I say? My dog is not an expert at giving a good first impression. Ali and I swapped dogs and the one she had been holding was calmer, more relaxed and less whiny. We asked if we could come back tomorrow and collect one of the dogs -just so we could have some time to think- but the breeder said she needed to know what one because a friend wanted the one left over and she and her family had plans for tomorrow, starting VERY early in the day, so he had to be taken now. A hard business woman indeed. She had done this before. We agreed we wanted one of them, but just couldn't decide which: the more handsome looking, yet more hyperactive and aggressive one, or the calmer, yet more rheumy eyed and less aesthetically pleasing one. Hmm.


A friend of the breeder drove us to the bank and while we got the £275 out we discussed which one to get. My Mum rang and I asked for advice. She told us to do things we stupidly hadn't even thought of, such as: 'Get them to walk on the floor and see if there is any sign of limping; look in their eyes to make sure they are clear and alert; look in his ears and mouth; check his back passage, etc.' She also said that all puppies bite when they get excited and it is better to go for the more loud and hyper one because they are more likely healthier. Above all, she said, it was the dog that comes to you when you call it that is the one for you.


With that in mind we were driven back to the house and asked if it was possible to have both dogs on the floor so we could call them and see what one wanted us. The breeder humoured us and opened their crate door. They appeared confused by two strangers shouting to them and, after a few minutes of running around in a state of hyperactivity, Bubba made his way over to us. The decision was made, and it was so.

With the money exchanging hands the breeder gave us a smattering of advice about food to buy and suchlike. We were given nothing to soothe him through his first night away from his parents (which disgusted my Mum) and left with him in Ali's arms. It started to heavily rain so I wrapped him up in my cardigan in an attempt to keep him warm. When we got back to our flat we tried to hide him so it would surprise my parents but they saw him straight away. They gave good advice on how to look after him and train him the rest of the time they were down.


The first night was difficult. It was my Mum's birthday so she, my Dad and I went to the o2 for a meal. Ali had been baking a cake at home while looking after Bubba and I think the heat and his draining day made him a bit poorly. Ali and my Mum were both worried he would die in the night, whereas me and Dad thought he just needed to sleep. He slept with Ali and I in our bed for a few hours before being put on his own in the kitchen. He cried less than we expected.

Dad and Mum left the next day and Bubba seemed better so we went to get him a basket, lead, collar and some shampoo for his first bath later. He hated being in the bath and expressed this with whining and trying to escape.


We got a bit too confident with Bubba peeing on the newspaper a few times in a row and thought after a day he was magically trained. We let him in the lounge with us, only for him to blatantly piss on the rug in front of us three times. Casual sprays to show he was the man of the house. Needless to say he is now only allowed in the wooden floored kitchen and landing. Anywhere carpeted is now out of bounds.

This is the story of Bubba so far. Ali and I will both be using this blog to to show photos of him as he grows and also write about his wellbeing and behaviour. Thanks for reading. :-)