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1:47 pm
2 January 2010
Offline
We waited a long time for this moment. My wife Diane (aka Maximutt on these forums) and I were certain that our Southern California home would be the final destination on the Killbarney Tour. And that seemed appropriate, because in a way it meant he’d come full circle. Jim and Rene had Barney with them on a get-together in Santa Barbara before his tour even began, so Max was one of the first Tripawds Barney ever met.
He got his start with us, and now it seemed like he’d end with us as well. After all, a pudgy purple dinosaur couldn’t possibly have a chance against the most destructive force the world has ever known – the scourge of civilization known as Bernie bin Laden.
The day the box arrived, we prepared for the worst. Both dogs were all over the box before it was even open. They were shoving their heads in the second one of flaps was loose. Linda went in as a scout, and made first contact with our visitor.
There was no use delaying the inevitable. Barney’s final moments on earth were at hand. We figured it was only sporting to give him a fair chance, so we let him hide the lower half of his body in Bernie’s Jolly Ball toy for protection. I got my camera ready to record the slaughter, and gave Di the signal to release the demon. My camera shooting rapid fire as Bernie came tearing across the lawn at us, I captured what was surely the last moment of Barney’s existence.
So what happened, you ask? Doubtlessly Barney’s head was ripped clean from his shoulders in a spray of fluffy white gore, his dismembered carcass strewn to the four corners of our yard as Bernie’s primal fury tore him apart in an instant? That’s certainly what we thought, and no doubt what you’re thinking as well. But like us, you thought wrong. For as it turns out, Barney accomplished what no other creature on earth has ever been able to do – he stopped Bernie bin Laden right in his tracks.
How, you ask? Mixed martial arts? Nerve gas? Armor-piercing ammunition? No. All those things have been tried, and failed against our unstoppable force of nature. But thanks to the many stops Barney has made before he came to us, he developed the one defense that even Bernie can’t overcome…
BARNEY FREAKIN' STINKS!!!
And I don’t mean he’s stale, or funky, or even a little ripe. The word “stink” doesn’t quite cover it. Maybe “stank” would be better. Or “reek.” Or “the unholy stench of Satan’s butthole after devouring the souls of those who never washed their feet.” And bear in mind that Bernie is no stranger to vile odors himself. This is a dog whose farts can bubble the paint off the walls. But that’s nothing compared to what’s coming off of Barney’s grimy hide. Just as Mr. bin Laden was going to clamp down for the death blow, he stopped short, took a couple of sniffs, and fled for the hills.
Needless to say, my wife and I were shocked to see Bernie tuck tail and run for his life. Diane made the mistake of giving Barney a quick sniff, and instantly regretted it. She was OK once she regained consciousness and stopped hallucinating, but she was woozy for the rest of the day. The toxic vapors Barney emits are sneaky. You don’t notice them when unpacking him, or even being in the same room. Much like a startled skunk, his stench glands seem to be activated by proximity. If you look closely, you can see the fumes distorting the air as they emanate from him, sort of like looking at the horizon in the distance on a hot day. I suggested that we solve the problem using our shiny new washing machine and a generous dose of Wisk, but Diane wouldn’t hear of it. She said that washing Barney defeated the whole purpose of the tour, and isn’t fair to whatever dogs he visits after us. Personally, I’d say that depends on how much those dogs enjoy getting punched in the nose, but I was overruled on this one. Future hosts be warned – I tried to help, but he’s coming to you fully fuming.
Linda made a valiant effort to subdue him...
…but even she couldn’t handle his reek. And she’s a dog who’s idea of a good time is grabbing a mouthful of dirty socks and chewing on them as she prances around the house, trying to get someone to chase her. In the end, even Linda was overcome and had to surrender.
So I gave my mutts a day off from Barney by taking him on patrol with me at work. We visited the bait barge in Newport Harbor, where my station is located. There’s a dog named Buddy who works on the barge, and I figured he might be able to handle Barney’s reek.
Buddy is a tough dog – he’s fought 600-pound sea lions and knocked them right off the deck into the water – and he works on a barge that sells live fish bait, so he’s no stranger to stink. I always give him dog treats when I stop by, and if you look closely, you can see one in Barney’s lap. But even Buddy wouldn’t eat it off Barney’s putrid persona, and this is the same dog who likes to steal live anchovies, carry them around with their tails wiggling out of his mouth, and then bite their heads off and eat them, leaving the bodies for the birds. In short, he’s not exactly a gourmet, but he still wouldn’t eat a Barney-fied treat. He did, however, eventually allow Barney to be in the same photo with him as he relaxed on the stern of my patrol boat.
After that, I tried to introduce Barney to the most repulsive smelling animals I could find – sea lions. I figured he might actually meet his stinky match with them. But it was a nasty weather that day with rough seas, so after a quick pass by the bell buoy where the sea lions hang out, Barney’s shift on marine patrol ended.
He returned to the harbor a few days later with Bernie and Linda, where he got his picture taken on the bluffs overlooking the harbor on a much nicer day.
Barney made some other pit stops while he was in Orange County. He visited the swanky outdoor shopping center Fashion Island in Newport Beach, where he went shopping for cars…
...and cooled his heels at one of the mall's many fountains.
He also went on a hike with Bernie and Linda at scenic Irvine Park.
And now, having visited Orange County and established himself as the one thing in the world capable of defeating Bernie bin Laden, he’s off on his next adventure. Who knows where he’ll end up next? Hopefully somewhere equipped with gas masks and hazmat suits…
2:11 pm
Team Tripawds
20 January 2009
Offline
Gah! You've exposed my secret stanky weapon! Thank Dog it distracted that terrorist long enough for my narrow escape. Thanks for the hospitality, but the KillBarney Tour must go on!
5:42 pm
29 October 2010
Offline
The stench of Barney is truly hard to describe to someone who has not had that nose-hair-searing experience, but you made a valiant attempt. Having said that - he mustn't be washed! I'm glad Diane wouldn't let you throw him in the washer! That special scent of his is the blending of the spit of many Tripawd Warriors! (Ok, and a few Monkeybutts.)
Great pics as usual. Linda es muy Linda and Bernie is his usual handsome self. My fave pic is the one of Linda chewing his nose, because I can oh-so-clearly see where <a href="