Bluey

Bluey was a bouncing big dog with sparkling, ivory teeth and jaws to match. A Blue Heeler as his name implies. He lived on an isolated property, the boss’s pride and joy. When visitors came Bluey would leap down the path, a gyrating bundle of jollity, his cavernous mouth parted in a gleaming smile, and CHOMP, right on the visitor’s heel. 

The visitors were mostly stockmen and neighbours and the occasional ne’er do well, so nobody seemed to mind too much, or said they didn’t, which is almost the same thing. Then the Father came. A travelling priest on his annual rounds came unsuspecting through the gate. 

His charming smile and "Hello, good dog," passed our Blue completely by. He dodged the hand that was meant to pat, and , hopefully, mollify. CHOMP he went as is his wont, and didn’t that old priest yell! 

"Bluey!" roared the Boss as he came through the door, "you thundering great mutt, get to hell! Beggin’ your pardon, Father, get to heck out of it, you stupid dog! You’ll have to forgive Bluey, Father, he’s just so full of high spirits he can’t always restrain himself." 

Half a bottle of the Boss’s best scotch and the Father was his normal self, but the tale spread, and many tasks and for shames, were leveled at the Boss and the unsuspecting hound. 

The Boss alternately hid a smile or hung his head to the ground, but in town at the store one day, when the missus was busy with her purchases, a neighbour sidled up to the Boss and said in a voice that couldn’t be heard beyond three paces. "Is it true what I heard about Bluey the other day, that he went for the Father in quite a big way?"

"I’m afraid it is ,"the Boss replied and prepared to hang his head.

"Tish, man," his neighbour said, "Don’t be apologizin’ to me, just promise me one of his pups." 

(Author unknown)