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A funny story told to me at one time either by a friend or maybe by someone here on DC. I can't remember the teller, just the story.
The story teller was driving his 4(ish) year old somewhere when the child yelled "Look daddy a kangaroo!". When the dad looked he saw a large German Sheppard making a # 2 near the side of the road.
My parents brought a Bull Terrier ("Tuffy") home in May before I was born in September. So this dog & I were practically litter-mates. Tuffy & I were about 4-5 years old and were "helping" (watching) my Grandpa repair a barbed-wire fence. As he was stretching wire down the posts Poppa realized he had left his hammer on the ground a few posts back & asked me to go fetch it to him. I went back & the hammer was no where to be found. I looked everywhere but still, nothing. It was then that Poppa, still holding the wire tight, looked over his shoulder in the other direction. There sat Tuffy quietly waiting for my Grandpa to take the hammer that Tuffy was holding...in his teeth. Apparently Tuffy had spotted Poppa's miscue & figured he'd just carry it until we stupid humans realized it was gonna' be needed soon farther down the fence line. My Grandpa told that story for 35 more years, completely convinced that my Bulldog was the smartest animal he had ever known.
(*and I just had a surprise tear run down my cheek, 'cause Poppa & Tuffy were...the GREATEST!) :biggrin2:
My "other" dog story comes from my childhood.
My Great Grandmother lived in the same hometown as I do, and ironically, I live a block away from where she called home. My parents rented a small appartment nearby just after I was born and mom would go visit Grandma and take me along.
Grandma had a mixed breed dog she named "Pete" and he was my buddy when I was just a toddler up until my parents moved to their present location when I was 19 months old.
One day my Grandma came with her daughter and Pete was with them. My Grandma was moving and she could not take care of Pete, so he became my dog. I loved this dog so much, we were nearly inseperable, he followed me everywhere I went and slept at the foot of my bed.
There was a small drug store nearby and dad would give me change to go buy candy and pop. Pete accompanied me because he dearly loved Hershey bars and I would always treat him to one. I didn't know then that chocolate is not good for dogs, but that was then. He was a smart dog, he would wait for all the traffic to be gone before crossing the busy Avenue. He'd look both ways and watch, just like a human. During one visit that my Grandma made shortly before her death, I thought they had come to take Pete away. I stood in my bedroom, looked out from the window and just balled like a baby. My mom had to get me, take me outside so my Grandma could explain that Pete was my dog, she just missed him and wanted to visit.
He got old and had the doggy equivalent of Parkinson's and shook something firece. He began to be terrified of loud booming noise and the 4th of July fireworks sent him into a near panic of hiding behind the couch and shaking uncontrollably.
One 4th of July, he came up to me and wanted out. I thought it was strange, I could hear the sound of firecrackers, but Pete wanted out. Not just anyone, but me to let him out, so I did. He trotted a bit down the sidewalk, but then stopped, turned around and stared at me for just a few moments, then he turned around and trotted off into the darkness never to be seen again.
This happend when I was probably 13 and we never knew what happend to Pete, but he was telling me, his buddy, his companion, and his favourite human, goodbye. I can't hardly tell this story without my eyes getting a bit moist. I'm 56 years old but I can still see this like it happend yesterday.
Maybe Pete and my other now-gone dog S'more are keeping each other company until the time that I meet up with them again.
Damn it JoJo! Tuffy, the Bull Terrier of post 17 was; my closest companion since the day I was born, we were inseparable for 13 years, he was terrified of fireworks, on the 4th of July he asked to go out...and I never saw him again. I scoured the neighborhood & surrounding woods for MONTHS & MONTHS. I cried BUCKETS of tears. I rode my bike for hundreds of miles, interested in NOTHING but finding my dog. I'm 55 now & would trade my retirement to see that bulldog come struttin' down my driveway. Kinda' strange how those pups loved us enough to spare us...watching them go.
I think Will Rogers said it best - "If dogs don't go to heaven, when I die I wanna' go...where THEY are."
Sam
Sam was my grandpa's bloodhound. They were inseparable until Sam died of old age. Grandpa trained Sam to trail people, and us grandkids were often used as bait for him. We, along with a parent, would go off into the woods, and Sam would find us. We would have a slice of cheddar cheese with us, because that was Sam's reward for finding us. Sam was so good that grandpa worked with the police. Sam found criminals, mental patients, and even once a corpse. :icon_neutral: Grandpa's business card read, "Have Bloodhound, Will Travel."
One day my grandparents went on a trip where they couldn't take Sam, so Sam had to stay with us. A bloodhound in the house is Not Fun. Slobber flings everywhere and sticks like glue (in my HAIR!), bloodhounds smell awful, and Sam loved to sit right up against the front of the TV. :biggrin2: The grandparents did not give an exact day of the week they would be coming back, and this was before everybody had cell phones. We didn't even mention their names, pack up Sam's things or do anything out of the ordinary to cue him, but he knew they were coming. Around a couple hours before their arrival, his usually lazy self grew restless, he started whine, and he would stand at the door, tail wagging. He wasn't after a potty break - he just knew his human was coming. And he was right.
Carolina
Carolina is my 6-pound red pomeranian. She used to sleep on the bed with us, but now she prefers to sleep under it. When she did sleep on the bed, she would settle right up against my left side. Then one day she decided to sleep on my stomach, which was very unusual. And she stuck by me all day like velcro. The next night, she slept on my stomach, and the next night, too, until a few days later I took a pregnancy test, because we were trying to have our first child. The test told me what Carolina already knew. :redface: She did the same for our second baby.
I have had dogs since I was born and I`m 57 but one of the more recent ones is a rescue shorthair pointer named Lucy. She had evidently been abused at some point as she trembled at the sight of people. The attendant at the shelter was letting me look at some small dogs when I spied Lucy laying by herself looking miserable. He asked if I wanted to go in and see her but I was looking for a small dog. After awhile, I just could not quit thinking about her. So, I walked in the holding pen and sat down. She eye balled me for some time, got up on her belly, crawled over to me, put her head on my leg and badda bing badda boom, I was adopted. It took some time for her and I to get to know each other but she soon became the house clown. One night I was looking for my glasses to watch TV and could not find them anywhare. Thinking, in my foggy brain that I had lain them down and could not remember where. I looked in the fridge, micro wave, bedroom, under the couch and finally gave up. At bedtime, I went to tell the dogs goodnight where they had their beds in a small room in the back, laying on Lucy`s bed was my glasses. I watched her one night as she snuck into the living room and ever so gently picked up my glasses from the coffee table and carried them to her bed. Never bent them at all. It got to be a nightly ritual when she would get up and snatch my glasses and carried them with her to bed as long as I was not looking. Later on I will tell ya`ll about my boxer, Rocky who passed on 12/12/12. Losing him is still fresh and is hard to talk about. Mark Twain said once that the more he was around people the more he loved his dogs. Ain`t it the truth.
I don't know about telling about stories, but all I do know is that my dog is the only one that greets me at the door when I get home from work, he walks me to the door when I go to work and he is the last one to say goodnight to me by coming to my side of the bed and puts his head next to mine. He minds, he plays and he protects my family. I can tell you about all the good he has done, but for my story, he is my best friend and I am his.
My last dog, Daisy, knew when she heard the velcro on my watchband rip, I was headed for bed. She'd drop whatever she was doing and run to beat me to my spot. She got to where she could spell p-a-r-k and knew to grab her leash and run to the door. After she passed, both my wife and I kept seeing glimpes of her scooting around corners as we entered a room.
We haven't built up the courage to get another dog and go thru that again.
Funny you would say that, my boxer, "Rocks", would roam the house (upstairs & downstairs) at night, peaking into the bedrooms to check on all the family. Her nails clicking on the hardwood floor was a familiar, comforting reminder in the dark of night that she was "on the job". I swear, as God is my witness, that for weeks after her passing she was heard on multiple occasions by several different people..still making her rounds.Quote:
Originally Posted by OldVet
Mercedes (my avatar since I joined this joint) had to be put down in December 2011. My wife and I both cried like babies as we held her while the vet did what had to be done. 11 years was not nearly enough time with her. We got her in January of 2001, and one night the following winter she was sleeping on her dog bed in front of the woodstove while we had supper. I watched as she got up, grabbed her bed with her teeth and dragged it a few feet away from the stove and laid back down.
Ww all thought that was pretty amazing, until the next day when I moved her bed while vacuuming up the GSD tumbleweeds that roamed the house. On the side facing the stove was a charred spot where the thing had obviously got too hot. We never smelled a thing.
Dogs are amazing animals, and some dogs touch your heart in amazing ways.
Its been over a year since she passed, and our male is getting up in years, so tomorrow we decide if w are getting another female.
I ended up with my son's Siberian he had adopted. He had a 'running' problem. I kept him inside the house , but would put him in a fairly secure large fenced kennel when he was outside and let him run the fenced yard when I was out there with him. He was an esacpe artist. One day daughter called me ... "he got out" of the kennel (he had to have used amazing strength to do what he did, but that's another story). I'm on the way home from work and told her I'll hurry to get there and look for him.
Now, he loved my granddaughter more than anyone and was protective of her to say the least. One time, someone tried to break into the house late at night .... thru my granddaughter's bedroom window..... he about busted the window out trying to get to them to eat them. He was one ticked off dog..... I had all I could to keep him from going thru the window to get them. Normal basis, he loved everyone and was happy go-lucky.
Get a 2nd call, daughter says she just got a call from the POLICE , and they said they had the dog and that she better come and get him. She said, something's "wrong" .... based upon the way they said it.
I get to town and call daughter, and she says she is at the one school but would meet me at home and had the dog..... and I thought, uh-oh ... he loves to play and run with kids. While he was "out" .... here is what happened (short version).
He was wondering the town (small town). A guy in a car stopped, jumped out and grabbed a girl and was trying to drag her to his car. The man was unkown to her. She "screamed" and was fighting him, and she told them .... the dog came running full blast out of some bushes by the house she was near ....... and jumped and landed in the middle of the guy's chest.... knocking him down. When the guy got up and tried to grab the girl again, the dog put himself between him and the girl and snarled, growled and barked at him. This continued over several attempts, the guy was not giving up on his attempts to grab the girl. At one point he lunged at the girl.... and the dog (Siberians are strong dogs) chomped into the calf of the guy's leg.... and wasn't letting go. The guy, while yelling..... dragged his way to the car with the dog still attached to the calf of his leg and not letting go...... some 80-90 ft.
The guy then left in a hurry. The dog went back and stayed with the girl, so she took ahold of his collar and kept him with her as she walked to the school ... and told them what happened. They called the Police and the girl's parents. The Police, called my home number (on one of his tags) and talked to my daughter.
When my daughter showed up ..... the Police explained to her what happened. She said the mother was crying and upset, but the dog.... was still sitting right up against the girl. The dog went to my daughter. She said her younger brother came over and told her....... "I'm glad your dog saved my sister's life".
When she brought him home and I met her there ..... you could tell the dog was just as happy as he could be....really proud of himself. Then my daughter told me what happened. He had blood on him, and the Police had alerted all ER rooms and hospitals to report anyone coming in with wounds or bites to the calf of their leg. So .. I asked my daughter, so instead of being in trouble .. now I have to feed him something "special" ? They later wanted to give the dog a medal, and I refused it. I told him that he was happier to get some raw meat over a medal..... and to him, he was doing his "job"..... and that to him, was protecting my granddaughter and apparently... any other girl out there needing it.
He's been deceased now for about 8 yrs.
Our first dog,was a german shepherd,long time ago.Like most,he was very protective.My mom went to spank me one night,and prince,we called him,bit her.She put prince in one room,and me in the other.I got the worst end of that.I went to the range today,and the owner's dad,came in, with a yellow lab,he bought.He is about 6 months old.I watched him running all around the store for a min.I will never understand,how anyone could abuse them.
Once when cleaning guns I spilled half a container of Hoppes on my old man Pierce. He didn't seem to mind much or be affected by the chemicals.
He smelled great for about a week though.
I thought I was the only one and was losing it in my grief. I swear sometimes I catch a glimpse of Katie out of the corner of my eye walking past "her" room.Quote:
Originally Posted by OldVet
Attachment 67628
This is my former pup, Caddy. A sweet little Pitbull/hound mix that was the most loving dog I ever met. She loved nothing more than snuggling up against me (or on me, because a 45lb dog was a lap dog in her opinion) and falling asleep. And man did she love sticking her face in bushes during our walks, and with that Pit build there was no dragging her out of there!
One night, about 11pm, I took her out so she could do her business. I was standing in the driveway politely waiting for her to finish when I saw a suspicious looking guy (hoodie up, eyes lowered, hands in the pocket on a nice night) walking across the street toward me. Apparently Caddy saw him to because she stopped sniffing the grass and stared right at him. My hand went to my .38 but she had other ideas. She trotted over and stood in front of me (between him and I), squared herself with the guy and started letting out low woofs. He decided to turn left and just go on down the sidewalk and my pup kept up the woofing until he got out of sight, then she walked back over to the lawn and went back about her grass investigation. She got some extra treats that night.
I made the decision to give her to a single mom with two little boys and a big fenced in yard (I live in an apartment) and the last I knew, thanks to one of my sister's friends that works at a pet store near the family, my pup (in my mind and heart she'll always be mine) is doing great with them. I do still think about and miss her often.
