Rosie and the French Bulldog

Rosie was a handful as an infant, you could hardly keep up with her. She was walking early, running early and just being a pain most of the time.

Rosie was Two years old, so Mom and Dad decided to get her a puppy, poor thing. We named him Trouble, because he was a French bulldog that looked like he was going to be trouble.

Rosie would torture that poor little dog. She would throw a slipper down the stairs and laugh her butt off when he would flip end over down the stairs. The stairs were carpeted pretty thick so it probably didn’t hurt him.

Rosie would sneak off into the kitchen and knock over the waste basket, pulling the trash out. Everybody would think it was Trouble, so Trouble would get locked up in his cage for the day.

Rosie would do a number of other things to Trouble over the next year. At about six years old Rosie realized no matter what, or how much she did to Trouble, the dog would still love her unconditionally.

Rosie finally started acting right to Trouble, he was comfortable with her, she was comfortable with him and they had fun together, finally.

Then one day in the backyard Rosie grabbed a twig about Three feet long and playfully popped Trouble on the butt, Trouble turned around, looked at Rosie and growled, “What the hell dude, we've been having such a good time.”