I want to thank everyone for the wonderful birthday wishes I received yesterday. I had a wonderful time with my grandchildren who recognize me now. Dinner was with the family and no cake. We’ll have cake on Friday when we all go out to a steakhouse. Having one’s birthday on a work day has its perks and downside. Still, I’m looking forward to having a great night on Friday.
On to today’s subject...and that subject...is tribbles! Or rather my particular two tribbles. For those of you who are Star Trek fans, tribbles are a big part of the series. They first appeared in 1967 in the episode called The Trouble With Tribbles. They also appeared in Deep Space 9 as well as The Next Generation. They are known as the mortal enemies of the Klingons while Vulcans are the only species known to be immune to their effects.
I know their effect on me. I have a large tribble and a small one. I love them and they are part of a very small stuff animal collection which I have. I got mine the year I turned forty when they had a Star Trek experience here in the Las Vegas birthday. For that birthday, I went and sat in Quark’s Bar and had the biggest drink I had ever had in my life. It was served in a fishbowl and wisps of vapor emerged from the dry ice it had in it. It was a birthday to remember in so many, many ways.
Fast forward to the Saturday June 19, two days before my birthday and one before Father’s Day, I hear the phrase from my husband: Let that tribble go! What? Did the man just say tribble? Now over the years, we have had one cat who carried the samll one around as her baby. It was a tussle to get the poor creature away from Samantha because in her mind, it was her baby. In the early days, she would sleep with the darn thing and if I noticed it were gone, all I had to do was find Sam and I’d find my tribble.
But this time, there was a catch. All the cats were asleep in bedrooms with the door shut. That just left one culprit. Jasper, the dog. This creature loves to play chase and come and get me with whatever. I blanched a little when I realized it was he who had the tribble.
Let me tell you a little about Jasper. Last September, we lost our beloved dog Bomber. He was a one of a kind animal who was kissed by the fairies with one blue and one brown eye and I felt the loss deeply. My DH more so as the dog was his jogging buddy. I left little time between when Bomber died and we went to look for another dog. See, I couldn't live in a house without one. I know they are special and bring more into a home. So off to the pound we go to see what's there. There were two we liked and had them brought to us in the enclosure. This little yellow lab was the most mellow dog we had ever seen. He also jogged with my DH on a short trial run. We decided this was the animal for us and did all the paperwork.
When we picked him up the next day, he was dazed from his neutering and we had to have a cone around his head for almost a week. Well, over the course of a few months we came to love this dog despite all his problems. Now, this creature was the product of an abusive home and we didn't know just how much until we got him home. He has a frill of hair that rises when he barks at those who scare him. He had also been shot and I was the unlucky one to find this out by accidentally stepping on his leg and disloging from his bone the large bb. Still, he has come a long way and we have a long way to go but he provides us with entertainment and companionship with unwavering loyalty. To be honest, I've never had a dog who was my dog. It's an amazing journey.
My office door was open and I hollered out to the DH asking if the dog had my tribble. When the answer was a resounding yes, I uttered the line: Let My Tribble Go! I promptly had the dog by my side with a mouthful of tribble, grinning around the creature. He obviously thought it funny. In a stern voice, I commanded he bring it to me. The dog looked back at his human father then to me, deciding I must be the push over of the two, he came to sit at my feet.
I gave the command for him to drop it and when he wouldn’t my voice became more stern. He gently laid it in my lap and I knew then, he was under the spell of the tribble. I explained to him their importance and he watched me in rapt attention. I also told him he was never to manhandle the tribble like that again.
The DH gave me a wry look and asked, “You think he got all that?”
“He better,” I replied.
“And why is that?” The man stood there positively confused. Didn't he know the importance of a tribble?
“Because if he lives in this house, he’s a Star Trek fan and knows the importance of a tribble.”
The DH gave a snort of laughter, held out his hand and vowed he would put the creature in a place where it couldn’t influence the dog. Fat chance. That dog can find just about anything he wants, buried or not. LOL!
And if he gets the tribble again, he can expect to hear the immortal line Let My Tribble Go yet again.
What’s your favorite pet story? I’d love to hear it! See you all tomorrow!