The Adventures of Mandi and Babe

Tad has said that if he were to write a children’s book, it would be called The Adventures of Mandi and Babe and would include all of the silly stories I have of my dogs growing up. Particularly, our black lab, Babe.

Babe was an ox. 100 pounds, I’d say. And definitely in the upper limits of the height index. I wasn’t a huge Babe fan. I mean, I liked him enough, but he could never replace our first dog, Traff (Yes, I was THAT child). Still, Babe made sure I had plenty of memories to make me miss him when he was gone…

The Falling Incident
One time Babe fell on me. I was sitting on the couch. Babe sat on the couch next to me with his back to me so that I could pet him. When I got tired of petting him, I stopped. The next thing I knew, Babe glanced over his shoulder at me. Then, he came tumbling backwards on top of me.

I was instantaneously buried in his fat and hugeness.

The Morning Incident
One time, Babe woke me up. It was sort of late in the day. I was dozing upstairs in my bed when I heard my dad very excitedly say, “Babe! Babe, go wake up Mandi. GO WAKE UP MANDI, BABE!”

And to my dismay, Babe came pounding up the stairs and jumped on my bed. He and I weren’t very cuddly, so he danced around on my bed for awhile as I yelled at him and told him to go away. Then, after I was successfully awoken, he left.

The Face-Licking Incident(s)
Babe liked to lick my face. He would do this by randomly attacking me as I sat on the floor. He was so huge, I was powerless until he had had his share of my face. Because of this, I tried to sit on the floor as little as possible. And every time I thought it was safe—every time I thought he had forgotten about our game because it had been like six months since the last attack—he’d still get me. It maybe took him twenty minutes or so to realize I was on the floor, but he’d still get me.

He didn’t do this with anyone else.

The Stale Graham Cracker Incident(s)
Babe would rarely go to his bed when asked. He would only go if you promised him a treat.

One night, I was so mad at him for demanding a treat. He was our dog, after all. He should gladly go to his bed when asked. So, I promised him a treat, he went to his bed, I locked him up, and left. Without giving him the treat.

The next day, Babe was super mad at me. He refused to come when I called, would bump into me on his way past, and wouldn’t budge from the couch or chair if I wanted to sit down. Finally, tired of having to deal with his moodiness, I gave him a treat.

It was as if nothing happened.

So ever since then, I always was sure to give him a treat if I had promised him one.

But of course I wouldn’t give him good treats. I’d give him stale graham crackers and stuff. I had to keep the upper hand somehow.