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As new and first time dog owners, we are blessed to have great friends who allow us to bring the Holy Terror (otherwise known as Nimbus Robert Swails) along on our adventures with them. So last weekend, Nimbus and Co. were invited to boat on the Mississippi River with our good friends, Jane and Dave Lakeman.

The evening was sublime. The boat incredible. The company amazing. Even bigger miracle, Nimbus was a born sailor. He embraced the water and waves as an old salty dog. He rode in the front of the boat, the back, and manned the ship's wheel. The watercraft a perfect fit for a sea-going dog.

Nimbus is not known for his good manners. It is a work in progress. He is a whirling dervish of energy. At the drop of a hat, he can transform from a somewhat mild mannered puppy into a canine of chaos. He is all jaws, paws, and claws. Mostly jaws.

Such was the case at the Lakemans. Nimbus had been relatively good when the transformation happened. Without warning, he burst into a wild spurt around the living room. Showing off, he circled faster and faster between the men watching the Hawkeye game. His tongue flying, his smile wide, Nimbus circumvented the furniture like a well-trained racehorse. Then fate intervened.

Let me backtrack for a moment. Potty training a puppy is a tedious, stressful, and painstaking process. Nimbus was no exception. However. He has not had an accident since he was four months old. He is now eight months. So I was EXTREMELY confident there would be no issues.

I was wrong.

In his frenetic state, Nimbus suddenly froze mid-circle and squatted. As in to go potty. Number Two. Bad. Very Bad.

Shouts erupted. The men burst into action. They sprung forward, their hands stretched into the air trying to grab the puppy. Startled and unnerved, Nimbus leapt into the air heading for the only person in the room he really knew. His dad. Who was sitting on the sofa.

Terry saw him coming and raised his arms to catch the incoming missile. But Nimbus, who had not completed his duty, landed just to the left of Terry. As he grabbed Nimbus, Terry's glass went flying. At that moment, the puppy ejected his load. Dropping it perfectly onto Terry's lap.

Simply the perfect storm.

"Scat!" he exclaimed. Now I am not sure at this point if Terry was identifying the object in his lap or telling Nimbus to get lost.

I swooped in like an Angel of Mercy and claimed the unwanted gift with a napkin. But the couch was soaked with the contents of Terry's glass. Fortunately it contained just ice water.

The mess was mopped up. Nimbus was taken outside to finish his duty. Which apparently was done. But his true colors were revealed. He came home in shame. His head drooping. No longer the party pooch. More like the party pooper. (okay bad pun!)


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