Pumba is A Felonious Fur Ball


AAAAAAAAAAAdog

You might not know this but Pumba is a reformed criminal.

Yes, our infamous “farting dog” was once on the dreaded Bylaw Enforcement Officer’s, most wanted list. (He is the guy who is one pay grade up from a mall cop.)

MICHAEL VICKS MOST WANTED!

MICHAEL VICKS MOST WANTED!

You see, our neighbor to the east, whose house abuts our lot, complained that our little pup Pumba was barking incessantly. In a sense this was true, except that the only person he was barking at was this self-possessed, I-me-me-my neighbor.

Have you had one of those?

Grumpy is talking about the neighbor who complains about everyone else despite the fact that they exhibit the exact behaviors they complain about. Their home is their castle and to hell with anyone else. Grump calls this the, “My poop don’t stink syndrome!”

That is just how Pumba fell into disfavor. That’s why the Bylaw Enforcement Officer came to my door saying, “I know all dogs bark, but I’ll have to return with a summons if I receive another complaint!”

Now, no one wants their pet to have a criminal record; unless, of course, you are Michael Vick.

At that time the Grumpy’s didn’t know who “outed” their little felonious fur ball, so we took all reasonable measures to control his barking. However, you must understand that Pumba is a house dog and only ventures outside to relieve himself. All of his other sojourns to the great outdoors are fully supervised walk-a-bouts. Nevertheless, we purchased a muzzle and secured it every time we let him out for a wiz.

His “woof” became a “whiff”.

At the first sign of a “wiffle” we’d charge to the door as if we were a Navy Seal team and corral the little mutt and drag his wagging tail inside. Little Pumba didn’t know what hit him.

Case closed!

Luckily a friend of ours does some housekeeping in the neighborhood. She informed us that, as the neighbor’s house cleaner, she had heard all about our nasty little dog. But, she also said, in all the times she was there she never heard our dog bark ONCE!

Bingo! We knew who perpetrated this travesty.

The only thing we could figure was that when we let Pumba out in the early morning he often barked at the neighbor who was out warming up his noisy vehicle. Of course, our response was to bring the dog inside immediately.

How, you might ask, does this all relate to what Grumpy described earlier as the, “My poop don’t stink syndrome”?  Let me present my case. Then you can be the judge.

The Case for My Poop Don’t Stink Syndrome

AH-OOOOOOO, you're making my nuts glow in the dark!

AH-OOOOOOO, you’re making my nuts glow in the dark!

Said neighbor has a dog. This poor Lab was subjected, in my view, to the inhuman “zapper collar” which was utilized to train this dog NOT to bark. If he barked he got zapped. You could hear him whine when this happened. But the worst of this was that the dog compensated for the non-barking with his own form of woeful moans.

“Moooo-aaaaarr-aaawwww-oooow-eeeee!” or something akin to that would eerily fill the air day and night!

Grumpy believed this was some cruel Pavlovian response to having his nuts glow in the dark.

So, as soon as the neighbor left this dog unattended the moaning and groaning and crying and whining began. And, I’m talking about hours on end. We called the dog the “Mournful Cow” and sometimes, when visitors ask, we’d refer to him as the dinosaur in the backyard.

One time we returned home around midnight to find the neighbors on the opposite side (Both of whom are police officers) standing in our driveway. Get this, the male officer held a small caliber held hand-gun tightly in his fist. When approached, they both told us their must be a wounded or injured animal in our back yard. They said, “Listen to that awful sound!

“Moooo-aaaaarr-aaawwww-oooow-eeeee!”

Knowing the source, the Grumps bravely announced, “Wait here and cover my back, I’m goin’ in!”

Grumpy found the poor mutt tangled in his rope around one of the trees in his cedar hedge. He couldn’t even bark to announce his distress. Of course, he didn’t want his nuts zapped again.

Would you?

I took a lot of pleasure going to the neighbor’s door, waking him from his sleep and telling him his dog was creating a commotion and he’d better get his ass out there and take care of it.

And, apparently in my neighbors world power tools aren’t noisy.ZZZZtools

My neighbor has all of the toys. If they aren’t building a new shed or extending their deck, there always seems to be some power tool operating in their yard, regardless of the time of day or night.

He has a quad which he drives around, a power washer and a compressor and, of course, the ever popular generator. You name it and he fires up one or the other up on a regular basis.

“Brrrrrroooom, eeeeeeerrrrrrrrraawwwwwww, butta-butta-butta-butta!”

WTF!

Said neighbor has been known to power up his riding lawn mower and cut the grass at 6 am on a Saturday morning or late in the evening when it’s getting dark.

I think you get my drift.

But, Grumpy is not about to stop there because there is more. Did I mention the dreaded SCREAMING CHILD FROM HELL!

The neighbor has a young child who can be noisier than any dog Grump has ever heard. As a baby, the poor child cried and screamed constantly. I was beginning to think they put the child out on the back deck when his screaming fits became incessant. Heaven forbid they used the dog zapper for another purpose.

“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” WAAAAAAAAAAA! WWWAAAAAAA”

Hours on end!

As he grew older, the little nipper became a magnet for “boo boos”. Grumpy swears that kid hurt himself or became frustrated every five minutes. These shrieking screams were worthy of any Haunted House. And, when the kid screamed, the dog began to moan.

“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”WAAAAAAAAAAA!”

“Moooo-aaaaarr-aaawwww-oooow-eeeee!”

This is not two part harmony. No, this is two-part pandemonium. This is “my poop don’t stink” to the max!

Concluding Argument

In conclusion Grumpy would like to say that he has a park-like backyard. The Good Wife and Grumpy enjoy sitting on the deck, sipping our tea and reading a good book. Pumba sits on my wife’s lap cooing contently. But this idyllic pastoral respite often becomes impossible, like for instance, this past Saturday.

You see, the neighbor is in the front yard power washing his boat.

“EEEEERRRRRRR. Budda-budda-budda. EEEEERRRRRRR. Budda-budda-budda”

His dog is in the back yard crooning his dinosaur mournful lament.

“Moooo-aaaaarr-aaawwww-oooow-eeeee! Moooo-aaaaarr-aaawwww-oooow-eeeee!”

And the poor little Screaming Child just crashed his little electric jeep into a tree.

“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! WAAAAAAAAAAA! WWAAAAAAA!”

Hey, Buddy, your poop does stink, big time.

So, Grumpy thanks the Lord for satellite TV and single malt scotch. Time for some cocooning, don’t you think?

“My Lord, let’s head indoors and chill!” honey.

What’s that? Damn, the neighbor two doors over, with the craft business just fired up his backyard shop. “BBBBBRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRR–budda-budda-budda!”

And, the cop next door just fired up one of the classic hotrods he’s been working on. “Ba-ba-ba-ba-vrooooooooom!”

“Honey, I think it’s about time we let the dog out!”

“Wiff, wiff!” Pumba agrees.

If it quacks like a duck?

If it quacks like a duck?

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