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Learning to Fall: good dog.
Tribble got the smell of something in his nose and couldn't be rid of it 'til he got into trouble. At Freed's he ate a treat the way he always does, but when we got home and Terry and me had a bit of a dirt fight while picking up the clods that fell off in the street, Tribble got all excited and went kind of nuts the way he did back when he was a puppy.
He tackled Terry and jumped up on me and peed everywhere. After I calmed him down holding his collar and dragging him up onto the porch, he sat there nervous looking, whining. I let go of him and he jumped off the porch and up into the big wheelbarrow and turned it over on the sidewalk. He got a mouthfull of dirt, knocked Terry down and opened his mouth on Terry's chest covering his shirt with manure smelling dirt and dog spit.
"Good boy."
I named him Tribble 'cause when he was a pup he was just a little fur ball like those cute creatures Harry Mudd had in that one Star Trek episode where they multiply like crazy the way Momma's rabbits used to before Dad sold 'em all but one. Now I was thinking my dog should have a new name, like Harry or Muddy.
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