Like My Dreams They Fade and Die

Around the time we moved to our new home, we found out that Bella is nuts about bubbles. This was when we purchased the first bubble gun from Disneyland and would spend the last hour of light sitting on the back steps and waving the bubble gun back and forth and watching Bella kills all the bubbles she could reach. She has a one track mind when it comes to bubbles. We can’t even utter the word “bubbles” in our house without Bella appearing and wagging her nub ready to chase bubbles.

This is almost exactly how Bella feels about Bubbles. Except more.

Aggravatingly, the purchase of bubble guns is about ready to bankrupt us (major exaggeration). Disneyland stopped selling them and replaced the guns with a bubble wand that emits a really annoying song along with the bubbles. Which forced us to turn to the only other place we visit with such regularity: Amazon. We were buying 2 bubble guns every three months, because it turns out, all bubble guns are poorly constructed pieces of crap that will suddenly stop working for no reason.

Finally, I decided that there had to be something better than being taken hostage by pieces of faulty plastic run by batteries and an upset dog over and over again and started researching. That’s when I found out about bubble MACHINES.

They seem to be some kind of party/photography invention – and I don’t care – because it is designed to last longer than a spoiled child’s attention span (which is much much less than a spoiled terrier’s).

Not at all an accurate depiction of how this product will actually be used…

It cost far less than a year’s supply of bubble guns so I purchased it as one of Bella’s (many) Christmas gifts.

Currently, this device is sitting in the garage, with two new giant containers of bubble juice. Of course, her last bubble gun died last week. So we have been giving Bella bubbles the old fashioned way, that is, with a bubble wand. It works well enough – but not quite as well as the bubble gun. It also confuses the crap out of her that we are going into the yard with a giant bottle of bubble juice and not her bubble gun.

Bella: Mom! Mom! You forgot the bubble gun!

Me: Come outside, there will be bubbles, I promise.

Bella: But mom, you’ve forgotten the bubble gun. It is here, under the sink, behind this door that I can’t open! MOM! MOMMMM! Why are you so dumb?!

Me: Bella! Look!! Look at the bubbles!

Bella: … wait, but … BUBBLES!!!

I’ll veer off for a moment and say what you are thinking: Bella is a dog and therefore doesn’t know when Christmas is so why are you forcing her to wait for a gift on a holiday she doesn’t know exists? Also, dogs don’t talk.

Let me address those issues one at a time:

  1. Clearly, I’m a terrible dog parent.
  2. Look over there.

I purchased a milk frother on the same order as the bubble machine, because, Amazon. Also, I like to make mochas at home and this furthers my quest of being able to create a mocha latte very similar to one from a coffee shop. I don’t drink coffee every day so the random morning I decided to give it a whirl, Bella had been without her precious bubble gun for 10 days.

All was well until I added some batteries, turned on the frother, and of course it made the exact same sound as one of those piece of crap bubble guns. Instantly, Bella was standing in the kitchen wagging her nub and ready to play bubbles. I knelt down to explain our mutual mistakes (her ears deceiving her and my purchase of something that could in any way be construed as a new bubble gun). Unfortunately, Bella’s understanding of English is limited (she speaks French much more fluently).

For instance, if I say, “Do you want Bacon?” Bella immediately appears from wherever she’s been hiding and starts licking her lips. If I say, “If you sit on the couch with me I will cover you in a blanket and snuggle with you.” She will jump onto the couch or run away depending on her mood. But if I say, “This isn’t a bubble gun, it is a milk frother.” She cocks her head to the side and stares at me and says, “You’re a moron who can’t work a bubble gun correctly.” in perfect French.

This is how, when it is 22 degrees outside, I am standing in the frostbitten grass of our backyard, wearing slippers, while my coffee gets cold, and blowing bubbles for a dog who thinks I’m an idiot.

This dog rules our lives, and I love it.

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