Nubble

I am Nubble O'Rourke and Pierre is my Dad. I rescued him from the pound when I was 8 weeks old. Someone returned me cuz they said, "Bites children." I wasn't biting 'em, I was herding 'em. I'm a Herder for poodle's sake. The Humane Society gives peoples 30 days to return an adopted dog and trade for another one so that family's loss was Dad's gain. Mine too..

The rescue centers and pounds in Arizona trade with five other states. Fer example, we get too many Labradors and New Mexico gets too many Herders. There was this breeder mixing Border Collies with Australian Cattle Herders to get 50/50 puppies. Someone jumped the fence and so they ended up with eight ¾ Cattle Herder and ¼ Border Collies. Dad is French and Irish but he was the only one in his litter.

I found Dad at the pound on St. Patrick's Day, and I don't know who Patrick is but on my birthday I get a new green bandana and a green carrot cake.

Bi-peds ask dad what kinda name is Nubble. At the dog park the other canines ask me what kinda name is Pierre. Dad mixes letters to make words and then mixes words to make books in his Word Corner. He had whatz called a Mentor which as near as I can figure is 'nother bi-ped who teaches him tricks like to sit and stay and write. A while back Og Mandino left to join his Basset Hound, Slippers, in that dog park in the sky and Dad gots me a couple years later.

The pound people have adoptive folks sit with doggies and even them fur-ball cats in a big playpen before deciding. Dad wasn't quite sure, so when he was peeking at a stoopid dog in the next pen, I chewed up his ring-thing when it made a noise and he decided I was the one. And I never chewed up 'nother thing. Well, 'cept that book on how to train your puppy.

So these first bi-peds who x-aggerated about me biting their human cubs had named me Petey cuz I gots a black eye like the pooch in "The Lil' Rascals." But Dad said, "No way we gonna have Petey and Pierre," and he wouldn't even let anyone say that name around me. So for like six paws, or six weeks, I had no name.

Dad being all writerly wanted a special name cuz I am so special. He figured something tied to St. Patrick's Day or maybe to honor Mister Og. He tried Verde, Fern, Kermit, even Green but they all sucked. Then he tried Augustine, Miracle, Salesman, Ragpicker, and Antrim to honor his hero buddy. They sounded boring so I closed my eyes to check for light leaks. Dad was telling this pretty lady that when Mister Og left to join Slippers, he was working on his 20th novel and he was going to use a real place in Maine on Cape Neddick called Point Nubble Lighthouse. I woke up on the couch and ran and jumped in Dad's lap.