Bubba

It was a Friday evening, just around sunset. We were driving to the movies along Highway 66 near the famous Scarborough Faire in Waxahachie, Texas, when we spotted a dog walking toward us on the side of the road.

Of course, we stopped.

Now, most stray dogs require a little convincing. You approach gently, speak softly, perhaps offer some food, and hope they’ll trust you enough to come closer.

Not Bubba.

We opened the car door, and he climbed right in, as if to say, “Well, what took you so long? I’ve been waiting!”

No hesitation. No introductions. Apparently, he had decided we were his people, and that was that.

He was a Basset Hound, with those wonderfully long ears, short legs, funny outward-pointing paws, and a face full of character.

He was also absolutely filthy. His white-and-brown coat was so covered in fleas that there seemed to be more black than white!

We took him home, gave him a much-needed bath, treated the fleas, and brought him to the veterinarian as soon as we could.

Unfortunately, Bubba came with quite a collection of medical problems. He had heartworms and enormous lumps all over his body. He needed serious medical attention.

So we got to work.

The tumors were removed, his heartworms were treated, and before long, Bubba was ready to begin his new life.

And what a life it was!

Bubba absolutely loved living on our Texas ranch. He was extraordinarily intelligent, fiercely independent, and had a mind entirely his own.

He wasn’t the kind of dog who needed someone to tell him what to do. Bubba had his own opinions about things, thank you very much.

And somehow, that made him even more lovable.

He spent many wonderful years with us, enjoying his freedom and the wide-open spaces of Texas, until he became a very old gentleman and his time finally came.

I still smile remembering that Friday evening.

We thought we were going to the movies.

Bubba had other plans.

And apparently, we were the best thing on his agenda.