Share the antics, accidents and accomplishments of your canine companions, whether cute, clever, or thoroughly aggravating.
This is one about my first German Shepherd--Rommel.
We had gone out one night and Rommel had decided to treat himself to a 13x9 cake left on the countertop.
When we got home, the cake pan was on the floor and the dog was nowhere in sight.
We heard the tap-tap-tap of his claws in the bathtub.
He knew he was in trouble.
My husband pulled the shower curtain back and the dog bared his teeth and let out a
'GRRRRRR!!!!'
He pulled the shower curtain back and slowly backed out of the bathroom.
Turns out the dog was on a sugar high and we had to wait till he came back to earth.
Oh my gosh, I can't wait to see all the stories on this thread.
Ok so I'll go... several years ago I was very hungover. One of my then Italian Greyhounds asked to go potty and I told him in a minute, I felt a warm sensation and then... "oh shizzle, my dogs peeing on me!" ;D Yes, my dog really did pee on me in bed.
We had a Bulldog named Belle. She really really loved playing with the water hose or just splashing
around in her baby pool.
But she loved the water hose so much that my husband had to start locking her out of the bathroom when he was in there.
*yepper*
My mother had been on the road with my father for a few months and came back without him. It was right near my 7th birth day and she had brought along a puppy for me. The puppy was half coyote and half German Shepherd. Her name was Cotton, and my mother dubbed all of the stories that arose around her "Cotton Tales."
Cotton was incredibly savvy...She easily learned a volume of tricks and was the only dog I've ever had that could run with you while you were on a bicycle on a leash without causing any difficulty. She would take notes to my mother when I was sick that I would clip to her collar, telling her to "go find mama." If Cotton didn't like someone, you knew they weren't to be trusted and she once refused to let a friend in through the window of our house when he lost the key while he was staying with us, even though she quite approved of him at all other times.
One of the oddest (and coyote-ish) things she ever did, follows. In those days, we had milk and eggs delivered by the milkman. We also had a bread truck delivery in town, by the way. This would have been about 1966 or 1967. They would leave your order for you on your front porch every few days. One morning, we'd let Cotton out into the front yard in the early morning. She scratched at the door to be let back in and when I opened it, I saw that she'd taken a whole dozen eggs out of the egg carton that the milkman had left and set them very carefully on the doormat. Not one was broken. I assume it was her instinct to bring eggs back to puppies in the den, as coyotes are known to do.
Cotton died in 1979 and is buried on my old property up in O'Brien, OR. I still have her collar and name tag and we still tell Cotton Tales in my house.
My little dog Auggie is the source of fun. Not a lick of sense. And probably the dumbest dog on the planet, you all but have to remind her to breathe. She is real cute and lovable.
Most of her joy came from my ex. Ira came home at noon one day and let Auggie out, Auggie came back dragging something bigger than her and ran under the bed with it, Ira had to dig it out, turned out to be a frozen squirrel, Auggie thought she'd found the motherlode. Ira threw it out in the yard and it was mine to deal with.
One day the male cat ran across the living room and jumped as high as he could and hung on the drapes, Auggie was in hot pursuit, and jumped up and grabbed onto him. The loud crash was the last of our drapes. Auggie could out run and out jump the cats, and the drapes went first.
One day my wife was sitting on the couch having dinner and watching Friends. The male cat ran across her lap, Auggie right behind. Auggie dropped a log on my wife's leg. Ira called me at work all mad, she didn't know Auggie could go on the fly ( neither did I ) and she didn't know they were hot. I pointed out the dog is 100 degrees, they don't come out cold.
The best though was when Ira called me, she was home from work, had a bad day and I was not to call her for at least two hours, no matter what. About five minutes later she called to let me know there was a commotion. She was having a bubble bath. Female cat disappeared. Male cat was sitting on the end of the tub. Auggie came in and started barking. She shooed her away. Auggie returned with her favorite squeaker ball. And started squeaking it. Then Auggie jumped up by the side of the tub, and dropped her squeaker ball in the water. She started jumping trying to get it out of the water. Auggie knocked the cat upside down into the water on my wife. The cat started clawing in all directions and tore up my wife's legs pretty good, jumped out of the tub and ran through the house. My wife was worried the cat would start licking the soap off and get sick so she stark naked, covered with bubbles, and bleeding like a stuck pig chased through the house to get the cat and clean him off. Then she called me to yell at me as this was all my fault. I asked her since she didn't want to be disturbed why she didn't leave the pets outside the bathroom and close the door. She screamed at me that they would scratch at the door. I said yes, leaving the door open was better than having them scratch at the door. She hung up on me.
Things worked out though. Still have my lovable little Auggie, and the ex is long gone.
Ferret
My rat terrier/beagle mix ate almost half a dozen bratwursts one day that were sitting on the table. We don't leave the chairs pulled out anymore when there's food on the table :P
Whenever someone shines a laser pointer on the floor, she chases it and tries to eat it (she bites the carpet).
I have a friend who taught her sister's dog to open the door and let itself out, and to shut the door when it comes back in. When I was at my friend's house, the dog went out and their other dog was inside. The other dog scratched at the door, and the one outside let it out.
Great stories, everyone! Dogs have such personalities. I love that they are one animal that seems to be able to have a great sense of humor, even at their own expense.
Belle the bulldog also loved ink pens. If you left an ink pen anywhere below kitchen counter height, she found a way to get it. Then there was Ada the Doberman who liked to play tattle tale.
Many times Ada would come find me at the sewing machine and whine until I followed her to see what Belle was doing.
The funniest time was when Ada came around the corner to tell on Belle, and when I got up to check, I had to laugh so hard I couldn't scold her.
60 Pound bulldog up on the table with a pen hanging out each side of her mouth like two cigarettes.
This is a great thread!
My dog wants to be involved in any kissing that goes on in our house. More than once, my fiance and I have been on the couch smooching, and Trip has come up and got his nose and tongue right in there. :)
He's also fascinated with caffeinated beverages, for some reason. When we drink coffee or my fiance drinks Red Bull, Trip is always trying to lick the cup/can to get at it. The other day, he finally succeeded in getting a lap out of my coffee cup when I wasn't paying attention.
Great thread, I fully predict here and now that this thread will eventually become the most popular.
I may have posted this elsewhere but do not remember where, so here goes.
We have a heinz-57 dog(a mutt). Well over the years she would ride with us every where and before she developed pancreatitis, she would eat where and when we ate, so it was not usual for us to stop at Wendys and get burgers and fries for us AND HER at the drive up window. You know the scene, pull up to the menu, make your selections, go to the window and pay for the food, get change and receipt, get the food bag and drive off to eat. We were on vacation in N.C. for the purpose of going to the N.C. faire and we were camped in Denver, N.C. for the week on vacation. One night we were finishing up our days travel and I noticed that I was a little short of cash so I pulled into a bank with an ATM. I pulled out the card and did all of the things that I needed to do. I finished up and took my cash, card, and receipt and started to drive away when the dog started to bark. I stopped and looked around thinking maybe she spotted another dog(she literally hates anything in fur). Seeing nothing I started to pull away again and she started barking again and looking back at the ATM station. I looked at my wife and she looked at me, we both looked at the dog and burst out laughing. The dog was quite literally telling us that we forgot the food. I had gotten my change and receipt but I left the food at the window. We have cracked a rib every time we think about that.
Nothing like dog antics to make you laugh!
My Pom Zippo (bless his little pea-picking heart) was just as mean as cat pee, but psychotically so. He would get time outs to the kitchen on a regular basis. "Zippo, KITCHEN" & he'd run into the kitchen, snapping, snarling, looking over his shoulder to see if we really meant it. After a while, he'd come out to see if things were cool.
My son got a big kick out of entertaining his friends w/a "Zippo, KITCHEN".
Song sung when any of my dogs acts oddly since the song came out (inspired by your story of Zippo, Taffy):
"Psycho doggie. Quest que cest. Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better. Run run run run run run run away ..."
Most dogs seem to have at least one neurotic behavior, no matter who they are. My present dog, Beau, has many. I'm sure that dog-spelled-backwards-is-god sent him to me just because I wouldn't send him away.
Beau will only eat or drink from one spot in the kitchen. A sort of very inconvenient central spot. When doing either one, he stretches his entire body out as far as it possibly can go before stealthily dipping his head into whichever bowl he's got designs on. If it's food he's after, he'll often do sort of a strange head maneuver over the food, dipping, swaying and circling the bowl many times with his snout before ever picking up a bite. Then he'll grab a bite of food, rush frantically away from the bowl and deposit it elsewhere in the house and eat each piece one at a time. With all of this ritual surrounding his food and water, you'd think that he'd be food aggressive. He's not in the least. You can take the most succulent morsel from him with no trouble whatsoever. On the other hand, if a school bus or a large truck drives by or a delivery person is at the side door of the house, you don't dare get anywhere near him...He's passionately involved in being in what Cesar Millan calls a "red zone," where he will turn around and bite even me if I so much as approach him during these times.
Milord and I are thoroughly convinced that God does not send us "normal" dogs. And just as well, we'd bore each other to death!
Our boy, Rowdy, is Lab/Shepherd(?)/Collie(?)/who-knows-wtf mix. When he was about 3 years old, milord called me urgently to the patio to witness Rowdy alternately pacing around in restless circles, his favorite "squeaky" in his mouth, putting it down and attempting to squeak it by pressing on it with the front of his teeth, and when it made a pathetic wheeze instead, picked it up again. We looked at each other incredulously and said "He's telling us his squeaky is broke!" He took some comfort in our reassurance that we'd buy him a new one the very next day, and true to my word, I headed to the pet store the following morning. The kid working the counter seemed a little disturbed at the crazy lady squeaking all the toys until one produced the right sound, but I bore my prize home and nervously but eagerly presented Rowdy with my offering. His ears perked up, his eyes lit, and he siezed it eagerly, promptly putting it on the patio and smashing it. SQUEEE!! His furry face beaming, he snatched the toy up in his teeth and joyfully pranced around the patio with his squeaky, waving his "happy-flag" tail, as we breathed a sigh of relief that he was pleased. ;D
Our baby girl, Cassidy, is half Great Pyrenees, half whatever the neighborhood romeo was. She has no discernible imagination at all, but she's quite perceptive, and all heart. She's appointed herself my guardian angel, and takes her job very seriously. Until hurricane Rita, she never wanted more than a minute of cuddle time in our bed before she was satified and ready to bound off to her own. The night Rita made landfall, the campus where we work was turned into evacuation for special needs folks, and milord had to work overnight to help keep facilities running. Cass jumped into bed with me, and instead of a brief flop, curled up on the foot of the bed on his side, and stayed there- all night. When I told him about it the next morning, he remarked "She never wants to do that; she was protecting you!". That's my girl .
Quote from: Tipsy Gypsy on February 04, 2009, 06:32:04 PM
The kid working the counter seemed a little disturbed at the crazy lady squeaking all the toys until one produced the right sound,
Musta been a new kid, most other employees get used to it after 2 months,
Last night I was watching "Enchanted" a Disney DVD on my personal DVD player in bed with all 4 of the pups. Towards the end I was crying (heck dog food commercials make me cry) anyways, I'm crying away and Blackjack, my lil black Italian Greyhound crawls out from underneath the covers, lands himself right on my heart and starts licking all the tears away... ahhhhhh I love my boys...
including that really big Pyratey one coming to see the Pack & I next week! ;D
We got our now-gone collie Dusty when he was 3 years old in 1993. He was a rescue who lived with a family whose kids were into every sport imaginable. For the first 3 years of his life, he lived alone in the back yard (Florida) because every night and weekend, the kids were either practicing or playing every sport. After 3 years, the parents decided to give him away, so we were put in touch with them by a rescue society. He was the most docile, loving, well-behaved boy, and we took him home the same night.
The next morning, I was the only one up, very early. So I went in my pajamas into the (fenced) backyard with Dusty and a tennis ball. I threw the ball at him, and it hit him in the face. He didn't know how to play. So I pretended I was a dog, throwing the ball a few feet, on all 4's running to it and picking it up. Eventually, he got it, so I started throwing the ball a little farther each time.
Finally, when he was running after it and bringing it back to me nicely, I turned around and really threw it in the other direction across the pool, onto the other side of the yard. Dusty liked this game and proceeded to run like mad, not stopping when he reached the "blue grass." And promptly fell into the pool.
He didn't know what to do, and was thrashing around, sinking, getting frantic, so at 5 a.m. I jumped into the pool in my pajamas and swam to him and guided him to the stairs and helped him to get out. Needless to say, he never played ball again, and whenever the family went outside for a swim, he retreated into the house.
About 2 weeks after we got him, Steve's parents came from England for a visit. We don't usually drink a lot at night during the week, but on this particular night, Steve and his dad were in the family room watching tv with the kids, and Mum and I were sitting in the living room chatting. Steve brought us both a tall vodka & tonic. The living room was sunk down 1 step, and I was sitting on a chair near the step and put my glass on the tile floor on the step, totally oblivious to anything except talking with my mother-in-law. All of a sudden she points towards me, is speechless laughing, and just keeps pointing. Dusty had come in, saw my glass, and stuck his long collie nose down it. That's how we found out the dog absolutely loved ice cubes.
(http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e109/LadyReneeBuchanan/9715f806.jpg)
Dusty is on the right (age 13). Cody is on the left (age 3). This picture was taken in 2003 right after my kidney transplant, and that's how old they were then. Dusty passed away just short of 15 years old.
My critters love ice cubes, too. It's one of their favorite summertime treats. So are tomatoes, which milord didn't believe (he thought it was birds or rodents getting them), until I pointed out a small tomato forest popping up in a part of the yard where they frequently poop.
Our bigger dog, a lab/border collie mix, loves ice cubes also. She thinks she is getting away with a treat when one drops on the floor...
Our old dog, Drizzt, who passed away last year, used to run off with frozen broccoli if it fell on the floor.
A funny story about Drizzt...
When we were getting ready to move back to the mainland from Hawaii, we had a bunch of aloha parties and were given tons of leis, some of which had candy, plus several boxes chocolate covered macadamia nuts. We had packed it all up and the day before we were going to fly out had gone out with friends. When we got back, we found the boxes with the candy all knocked over and rummaged through. Our darling dog ate an entire box of chocolate mac nuts, plus the candy out of several lei's. Way too much chocolate for one dog! We freaked out and called the vet at 5:30pm as they were about to close and was told to force feed him peroxide in hopes of it making him throw it all up. If he didn't, we would have to take him to an emergency clinic. So we spent half the night watching over him and cleaning up afterwards... Thankfully, he did throw it all up and we were able to leave the next day. We were exhausted but an 8 hr. flight is plenty of time to catch up on sleep.
Quote from: Tipsy Gypsy on February 05, 2009, 12:25:59 PM
My critters love ice cubes, too. It's one of their favorite summertime treats. So are tomatoes, which milord didn't believe (he thought it was birds or rodents getting them), until I pointed out a small tomato forest popping up in a part of the yard where they frequently poop.
I had a dog years ago that loved tomatoes. She'd sneak out into the garden, and she could spend an hour going up and down looking them all over and selecting the perfect one. And eat it. And get sick. And anyone with a dog knows they are amazing critters. You put one pound in, you get two pounds out. She'd do it every day. I had to watch over her. As soon as she got a chance she'd be in the garden shopping for the perfect tomato. She never figured out that they made her sick. It was tough keep her away from them.
Ferret
I've got a tomato eater too, and carrots, and peapods, and broccoli, and cauliflower, and field greens. It's gotten to the point where I make her a small salad when I make one for me, and she eats it, with a drizzle of lemon juice. Crazy dog!
I've got some stories about doggy "esp" or heightened senses anyway.
For 15 years I had an Elkhound, Wicca. All of these incidents took place in about the first year of her life. When she was a puppy, I took her in the evening up to Blue Mtn outside Missoula, MT for a short outing. We hadn't gone very far, just out of a treed section of trail and into a meadow when the little fur ball stopped and stared. And stared and stared. I could see nothing as hard as I looked. I could see nothing out of the ordinary (and this is back when I had good vision). But I decided to believe my puppy and turned around. Dark was falling anyway. On the way back through the woods about 50 ft behind us the whole way, the birds set up a racket, birds I couldn't even tell were there when we walked by. I expect it was one of two things, either a mtn lion (we'd seen a paw print only a week before) or a wildly camoed army reservist (they were supposed to be out there that weekend).
About a year later, I was on a camping adventure that was to last an entire summer. We were in NW Montana's Bull River area. The bulls are bull moose, marvelously robust ones. This was in the spring and we'd seen whole families dining in the shallows of the creek. One afternoon I went for a short hike and the next morning visited the same trailhead intending to go further. I got out of the car and let Wicca out. I headed toward the trail and noticed that my dog was heeling. There's something wrong when a year old dog who knows she's about to go for a walk, and who ran on the day before, decides it's prudent to heel. I got to where the trail entered a brushy willow area. I looked and looked and saw nothing. I smelled nothing. All seemed peaceful. I kept inviting Wicca to go forward with "Go ahead." But she stayed right where she was as if to say, "No, you go first." Neither of us went first. We got back in the car.
The next day, we chose another trail altogether. A lovely hike, up, up, up, until we came to a flat area of boggy cedar forest. And darn if Wicca wasn't suddenly heeling again. Again, I saw nothing and couldn't resist going to look over what looked to be a cliff. Once that was checked out, we turned around and headed back down as the trail died out there. It was a lovely grove, though, and I would have poked around more if my dog weren't behaving oddly. So down we went, Wicca happily trotting or galloping along in front. She'd gotten on ahead when I heard a great crashing and saw a cow elk bounding into a thicket below me with my little dog in sort of confused pursuit (as though she realized it might not be the best idea but instinct was compelling her). I called her off (those obedience lessons worked!). And caught something out of the corner of my eye up a level higher than myself. I never got a good look at it since as soon as I turned my head, it turned away itself to disappear. But it seemed to be white and blonde. But what wouldn't want to be seen? Not likely another person. A deer probably wouldn't have come to the edge of the cliff to check out the noise and would have bounded off. Again, I'm guessing a mtn lion. They're very known for shadowing people. Though these tales probably make me seem very cautious, I actually sat around for a while to see if whatever it was would appear. No such luck. So I took my lunch-sized dog (she was about 40lbs) down the rest of the mtn on a leash and thwacked at bushes with a big stick (which aggressive-seeming behavior is recommended if you think a mtn lion is getting too curious with you).
My dog, Angus, would eat anything. Even bananas. Even the peels. It eventually caused his undoing when he developed pancreititis from taking steroids to help with his flea allergy. His final meal was a pilched one from a neighbor's trash can. It proved too much for his system, unfortunately. Otherwise, Angus was a fine beastie, an Airdale Shepherd mix. We called him Albert Einstein since he resembled the scientist with his wild grey hair wafting about on the top of his head. Another name was Angus McFangus The Noise Making Ubangus. Most of my favorite things end up with a multitude of nicknames!
Quote from: Tremayne on February 05, 2009, 04:11:35 PM
I've got some stories about doggy "esp" or heightened senses anyway.
Always good strategy to listen to what a sensible dog is seeming to tell you!
We have two mutts that we got from the Humane Society. The first one, Brandy, is a Shepherd/Husky/wolf (?)/whatever else mix. She latched onto hubby. He's HER puppy. Anytime the opportunity presents, usually when she's on the couch and he's on the floor in front, she'll start licking him...face, ears, hair, wherever she can reach. And if he tries to move away, she'll place one paw on either shoulder to hold him in place. If he still tries to move, she'll dig those claws in, hard, until he sits still. :D At night, once she's allowed us onto her bed, to be allowed up also, she'll offer up a "sacrifice": one of her toys. She'll search till she finds one, deposits it on the bed, and looks at us till we let her up. Of course, if we wait too long, she'll decide she's waited long enough and jump up anyway. :P
Our second dog, Spektre, is a black Lab/Dane(?) mix. At 27" at the shoulder and 100 lbs, he's a big boy, but he still thinks he's a lap dog. He's appointed himself my protector (possibly because I'm the one who picked him out). Aside from hubby and the kids, there's only one male who can come into this house without a problem, our best friend. With anyone else, Spektre has to be held back till they've been let in, then carefully supervised till he realizes they're ok and he doesn't have to keep warning them. Ladies, he's fine with. The only potential problem there is that he likes to give hugs. :D
He gave us some rough days at the beginning as he used to have separation anxiety. Anytime we left the house, even though he has Brandy with him, he used to tear the house apart. And he's big enough to reach an awful lot of stuff (including a knife out of the butcher block...he managed not to cut himself, fortunately; and a container of syrup...). Thankfully, he's gotten over that, we just have to make sure now not to leave food anywhere within his reach.
He also knows a word. Ask him what's on top of the house and he'll tell you: A-ROOF. :D
And speaking of canines, I'd better go feed my above-mentioned mutts. Spektre is sitting at the top of the stairs, letting out the wussiest, whiniest barks that he can manage. lol On a dog this big, they sound just silly.
Tremayne, I had an Elkhound once too. She was a 65-lb teddy bear that didn't have a temperamental hair on her whole body. We had her for 8 blessed years until we lost her to cancer. When it was time to let her go, she told me she was ready by coming to me and pressing her forehead against my leg. She'd never, ever done that before, and so I knew. Divorce was easier than doing that, but we knew we owed it to her.
Tipsy, Wicca was very mild-mannered and well-behaved too. There was one time though that she absolutely would not respond to anything I said. It's another wild animal incident. I was working at a store on the edge of a wilderness area. There had been a black bear bothering a cabin and it was caught in a bear trap and brought by the store to wait for removal elsewhere. I decided to let her out to get a whiff of him as a sort of doggy education. She must have smelled bear plenty of times before but we certainly never had met one. So I let her out and she goes up to the cage leaving one foot stretched very far back behind her. Then she began circling and barking at the cage. Continuously circling and barking and barking and barking. She would listen to no command and would not let me near her. She probably couldn't figure out why we idiotic humans weren't catching on to the present danger. Finally I got the bright idea of opening the door to the store again. The second I did, she made a beeline for it and not only shot in but up the stairs to the living area and then turned around to look at me as much to say, "S---! Close the door! There's a bear out there!"
She was a wonderful companion who traveled many trail miles with me. Losing her was the greatest grief of my life.
Our first dog in our married life was Lady Lucinda of Surrey, who came from the RSPCA in Chobham, Surrey, England. She was a mixed breed, Border collie/whippet and the smartest of all of our dogs so far.
She loved to eat and would eat anything, except 1 thing. She didn't like celery. We gave her all our leftovers, the kids gave her chocolate (before people knew it was bad for dogs), but she had an iron stomach and never got sick and wasn't overweight at all.
She even ate salad, which she really loved. But when Steve would make a salad, he would throw half the refrigerator in, so we had huge salads full of everything. We always gave some to Lucy, and she would eat every bite. Except she picked out each individual little piece of celery and left it in the bowl.
We brought her over from England, and she moved around with us in all of our home moves. She spent the last 3 years of her life in Florida. When we went swimming in the pool (the same pool that Dusty fell into, see post up above), Lucinda felt that she needed to save us, so whenever anybody jumped in, adult or kid, she would jump in, swim over to them, gently take their arm in her mouth -- never a tooth mark -- and doggie paddle them over to the steps.
She had a red frisbee that we would toss into the pool, and she would leap in from the side, swim to pick it up, and bring it back to us. We would get tired way before she did. When the red one finally broke, we bought her another frisbee in a different color. She wouldn't touch it. So we found a red ball. She would jump in, just like for the frisbee. When the ball finally disintegrated, we bought another ball, not red, there weren't any left, and she wouldn't go after it for love nor money.
I travel too much for business to be fair to have a pet at this point. But, I love dogs, particularly German Shepherds, and I had two at different times as a boy. Both had distinctly different personalities. Dutch was playful and Eddie was more protective. They perhaps may have emulated me at different stages in my boyhood, I don't know. Anyway, Dutch used to like to chase butterflies in the spring and it would never fail to make me laugh. I listen to a classic rock radio station sometimes and when I hear Heart do "Dog and Butterfly" I remember Dutch and my boyhood very fondly.
Commercial break here
The Westminster dog show is on Monday Feb 9th and Tuesday Feb 10th.
While we have always had German Shepherds (and an Irish Setter), I would absolutely love to have a Keeshond.
Not practical here with the heat, though.
Ooh, thanks,WW! I loves me some dog shows.
I so want to watch Westminster! alas the sacrifices of not having cable TV. *Wonders if someone will invite me to watch it with them.*
Welsh Wench,
I have a Keeshond now. I got her on Palm Sunday in 2000. She's a bit small for her breed, but she is the sweetest dog. She's great with kids, too. Her name is Lady Blackthorne, but she likes to be called "Baby". Her favorite things to do are "talking" and eating. Oh, she also loves to sit in the snow and bark. She has had some health problems lately. She had a tumor in her eye that had to be removed. She has recurring ear infections and now she has a cough. I just had her to my vet last Fri and he gave her some meds, but he says she is "complicated". She is doing better this week.
Last Aug., I got a rescue dog, a male black dachshund mix. He is the best friend for her. Whatever he does, she has to do too, such as having her picture taken and sleeping next to me. They both sing. I have never had a dog that sang in the past 35 years, now I have two! They are quite the pair.
My vet said Keeshonds typically live about 11 years, not as long as some breeds. Even with all of her health problems, she just keeps smiling.
She sounds absolutely lovely, Lady L!
I fell in love with Keeshonds when I saw them on the Westminster.
We had gone to the Eukanuba Dog Show a few years ago and walking back to the car, we saw the person that had the Keeshonds and got to play with them a bit. They were just beautiful!
I've got a 3 legged PotCake here on the island. Her name is Tipsy (no...not because she lost a leg). She's absolutely adorable, quite fast, and smart!
A PotCake is an island dog...decendant of the african dogs brought here during the Salt trade/slave days. They call them PotCakes because in the early years they would throw out the "pot cake" made of stuck rice in the bottom of the pot to the wild dogs.
Some nights you can hear all of them howl all over the island...reminds of of werewolf movies!
Another Ada the Doberman story;
Ada was quite fast when she was young and she developed a fascination for the hordes of sparrows that would hide in the althea bush beside the patio. She would creep up slowly then plunge in and come our with one every time.
Now she didn't kill them, or even damge them. She would come spit them out in front of me.
I'd have to take the poor slobbered, terrified bird and set it up somewhere out of reach.
In a few minutes they would get over the shock and fly off.
I couldn't imagine what Ada thought she was doing since she obviously wasn't a Retriever.
Quote from: DonaCatalina on February 07, 2009, 02:15:17 PM
I couldn't imagine what Ada thought she was doing since she obviously wasn't a Retriever.
I'd say it was a Love offering. ;D
The first dog I ever had was a Collie. He looked just like Lassie. Gorgeous dog. He was my childhood friend. He had been bred to be a show dog, but he had a eye defect and so the breeders put him up for sale and my family brought him. The breeders had name him " Little Bull" cause he was so strong. But despite being strong, he was very gentle. He eventually went blind in both eyes. We had this little brown cat name Coco, and she would follow him all around outside. If he got too close to the road , she would go and rub up against his legs and meow like crazy. She was his seeing eye cat. :) :)
He lived to be about 14, and then we had to put him to sleep cause he had a tumor.
I wanted another dog after him, but my parents said no more dogs. Then a few years later on New Years day 2 Little kids came knocking on my parents door. They had a yellow Lab puppy with them. They had been all over the neighborhood trying to find who this yellow lab belonged too. It was cold and snowy out, and this poor dog was shaking all over. We had just gotten new neighbors in across the street. I knew they had a lab, and wondered if it was their dog. Unfortunately they were out of town, so i could not ask them. I told the kids, i would keep the dog overnight and check with the new neighbors when they got back.
Well, it was not the new neighbors dog. I started getting attached to the dog, and eventually my parents started to too. We checked all around but no one claimed him. We named him " New Years" in honor of the day he showed up at our house.
we had no dog food in the house the first night he stayed with us, so we fed him Christmas cookies that we still had left from Christmas. after that every year when we baked Christmas cookies there was that dog waiting for his handouts. ! :)New Years passed away two years ago at the ripe age of 15.
When i got married and moved into my own house, my husband and I got a dog from a place that rescued golden retrievers and yellow labs.
We adopted a male 2 year old golden retriever named Hogan. he had been badly abused and beaten by his previous owner. the poor thing had the look of fear in his eyes. I told my husband, as i soon as i saw Hogan, that i was not leaving without him. My heart just broke for him.
Hogan is now 12 years old. he is the sweetest, gentlest, dog . Very pretty dog. He does not have the typical golden retriever coat. His fur is on the curly side, and he has deep gold color eyes.
He is big dog. He scares people some times with his size, but he is a big baby.
It is funny cause one time when we were living in California, our security alarm went off, and the police ended coming to the door. When one of the cops came to the door, he saw Hogan, and question why we had a security system when we had such a huge dog. I told him " just watch. " I let Hogan out, and Hogan started wagging his tail and wanting to play. I told the cop " Now you know why ."
Hogan is a very smart dog. One time when we left him at a kennel when he was younger, he managed to get his kennel door open, and they he went around and let all the other dogs out too !
A couple years later we went back to the place where we got Hogan and adopted a female yellow lab named Bonnie. what can i say about Bonnie. Of all the dogs i have ever meet she has the sweetest, most gentlest, disposition of them all. Even people who don't like dogs are won over by her. She has been my faithful companion. When I was dealing with all my health symptoms, she never left my side. When my son was a baby , she was like a second mother to him. She would lay next to his crib, and not move all the while he was sleeping. If someone came near him, she did not know, she would bark like crazy.
Back before Christmas Bonnie's health started going down hill. she started falling down all the time and shaking all over. she is only seven years old. Our vets felt that Bonnie had multiple tumors and that it was just a matter of time.
She was put on meds, and so far Bonnie seems to be beating the odds. My whole family is praying that maybe the vets were wrong with their diagnose.
LOL, i remember one Christmas, when Bonnie was just a puppy. I had strings of red wooden beads on my christmas tree. they weres uppsoe to look like fake cranberries. Well I did not know, that tow of my cats, had decided to climb the tree and knocked the beads off the tree and onto the floor, where Bonnie could get them.
I was in the kitchen making dinner, and i realized Bonnie was not with me. I went to find here, and she had discoverd the wooden beads and had been chewing them up. Now they must have used some type of dye to make the beads red. Cause my darlling liitle yellow lab puppy was now a pink lab puppy. Her face, her neck, her ears, her front legs and paws were bright pink ! ;D It took several baths before she was yellow again.
And then their is Annabelle. Our latest canine edition to the family. We adopted Annabelle this past summer. i wanted my son to grow up with a puppy of his own, like i did with my collie. When we got Annabelle she was only 4 months old. she will turn a year old this month. She is a Beagle/Shepherd mix. she has the beagle body and the Shepherd coloring. Knock on wood, she does not howl like they say Beagles do.
We got thru the potty training part, but she still likes to chew on anything she can get her hands on !
Along with the dogs we also have 3 cats and two horses. They are all part of the family ! :)
Judy and I have had a dachshund pack for over 40 years. Pack size ranged from one to five. The currenty tally is three (Cricket, Rustibits and Scooter). Over the years, we've had eleven--mostly longhairs. Right now two of them are keeping my feet warm.
Our first one, Fritz, was a small standard smooth. I was a young enlisted man stationed in Georgia at the time. Judy had joined me and was teaching school there. We had rented a small house that had an enclosed back porch with a linoleum floor where we kep Fritz while we were not at home. Over time, Fritz ate all the linoleum. He was also the best retriever we've had. Judy stayed with her folks while I was in Vietnam and her dad spent hours throwing a ball for Fritz. He claimed anything that was round and also enjoyed tomatoes.
One of the more memorable guys (we've always had males) was Houdini. Even for a standard, he was able to get into places that we wouldn't have though possible. His escapes made us make changes to what we thought was a dachshund proof yard.
Gus (Gustav) was the largest dachshund we've ever seen weighing in at 35 poinds with very little fat. He could really warm a lap.
The original Rusty could sit up with his rump on the floor and his tail at a right angle to his back and wag it. I've always wondered how he managed that because he carried it normally so it shouldn't have been a joint problem.
Of the current lot, Cricket and Rustibits are tweenies. They're too big to be miniatures and not quite as big as a standard. Cricket is so named because he jumps. Rustibits is the sentry. He performs guard duty when he's in the yard. You can almost visualize him marching back and forth with a rifle on his shoulder. Scooter is a miniature and is only around eight months old. He's hyper active and gets into everything. Right now, he's at the terrible twos stage. He knows when he's not supposed to do something but that doesn't stop him. Frequent shouts of SCOOTER!! can be heard.
Scooter will probably be the last. Judy and I are now of an age that we have to be concerned about our guys surviving us and their having to be placed if we're not around any more. The breeders where we got them both have return policies, but we'd prefer not to have that as the solution.
Having the guys over the years has made our lives much more enjoyable. Each of them has his own tale.
Ok, typical gross dog behavior, or at least so I've been told. Our dog April eats ANYTHING, and I do mean anything. Granted its not all her fault. She's got an immune disorder that means she'll be on prednizone for the rest of her life. And prednizone causes cushings disease in dogs, so she always feels like she's starving. But onto the story.
We also have a now two year old. April enjoys eating diapers. If we don't put them immediately into the pail, they disappear. YUCK! But its not only the dirty ones... Shortly after we realized what was happening, my daughter and I were outside with the other dogs, but April hadn't come out with us. I go in to get a drink, and April had pulled an entire package of fresh diapers out of a bag on the couch, and in the course of a few minutes, destroyed them all, spreading bits of fluff all over the living room.
Our other favorite April story is from when she was a puppy. We had been taking her to the local dog park regularly (until she got sick. Immune disorders and dog crowds don't mix). One time we went after dark, my wife, the dogs, and I all being a little stir crazy. As soon as we get in the gate, April takes off full speed across the park growling and barking. This is a dog that hides from the cats, and shakes if you say her name in a harsh tone. We were a bit concerned that such a timid, non aggressive dog would react like that to something, and the fields next to the park do have a couple coyotes. I ran after her into the dark park. When I get to her, her hackles are up, her lip is curled and shes snarling like some hound of hell. I didn't see what she was growling at, so I watched her for a second, as she started circling around. Somebody apparently had moved the chairs in the park around a bit that day, and she was going around a clump of three empty chairs, snapping and snarling at the chairs. We've never been sure if she was just surprised that the furniture had been moved, or what, but the mellowest dog I've ever had was reacting savagely to those green plastic lawn chairs.
Maybe your dog sensed something paranormal. They are sensitive to that. My Keeshond will stare up above the closet and track something around the ceiling. The other side of the wall is the stairs and then the fireplace. She will also stare up above the fireplace. Once I was watching tv, when she was acting that way. Husband came home and had his digital camera, so he took a couple of pics. Yes, there were orbs right where she was looking. I know that orbs can be dust, bugs or precipitation, but in this case, I don't think so. I had also been sensing something was watching us at the same time.
Do other people's terriers dig in blankets?
I have a jack russell cross (Daisy) and supply my dogs with used quilts and comforters for beds. She burrows, fiercely, in these beds, digging, routing around with her nose, growling and snarly in complete vexation the whole time. The result is usually a buried dog, though if the house especially warm she'll simply nest. It's especially humorous to see her try to extract herself when she gets lost within the blanket. There's a lot of thrashing and twisting and falling until she finds an exit. The cats find this curious but have never pounced on her.
The really extraordinary news with Daisy is that she's starting to walk straight. Used to be she circled and circled and circled on a leash. She was what I call a whirligig dog, much to my dismay. But lately she has prolonged periods of walking in a more or less straight line in front of me. What a relief!
A few Thanksgivings ago we had family over for dinner, and my uncle and aunt brought their border collie Rio over to play with our border collie Harley...these two are thick as thieves and have a blast near each other. All the same, we put Harley in the garage that night to eat his dinner because otherwise he wouldn't settle down long enough near Rio to do so. Unfortunately we forgot that the pan of turkey grease was also in the garage, and didn't realize it until Harley licked it all up while he was out there supposedly eating HIS dinner. He was a pretty sick puppy that night but he won't go near grease now! Smart boy.
My daughter has An American Stafforshire Terrier named Bailey. I refer to him as my Grand-dog. People often mistake him for a Pitbull puppy, but he is going on 7 years old and only weighs 30 lbs.
(Well he usually weighs more after visiting Grandma)
He has very thin hair and when it gets cold he likes to be covered up completely. He will half-heartedly nudge his blankets and then give the nearest person his poor pitiful puppy look.
It usually works.
As soon as he's covered up, he curls in a ball and goes to sleep.
I have only a small fenced area for my 3 dogs so I walk them regularly around the neighborhood. Near one corner there resides an arch-typical pit bull. He looks perfect for gargoyle duty on a cathedral, ears clipped down to pointy horns. A bolt in the ground secures the heavy chain he's on that attaches to a 3 inch wide nylon collar. Even this is not considered adequate. He is behind a 3 ft fence and the chain keeps him away from the edge of it. All of which announces that this is a dangerous dog that must be heavily restrained. He further feeds this assumption by lunging wildly and barking ferociously whenever any stimulus arises. So it was amusing the other day when he was stumped by "threats" coming from two different directions. He'd been sunning and noticed both me coming around the corner with my dog AND a truck coming from the opposite. In his indecision over which intruder to address, he simply laid there speechless looking back and forth until the truck had passed. He seemed embarrassed by this lapse in his habit of vigorous defense and only gave a half-hearted woof at us after the truck was gone.
Despite his over-reaction to anything interesting, I actually like this dog. He's neutered so I don't think he would prove dangerous if he got loose. After he has stopped his display of viciousness, he usually looks after us in curiosity. I've taken to stopping and talking to him on occasion. I even got so daring today as to take Jessie up near the fence. He seemed tense but was not barking (until we turned around, at which point he had to show us he was really tough after all). I'm hoping some day he'll end up like most of the other dogs in the neighborhood for whom me and my dogs passing is not worth raising their heads over.
I used to have a cocker-terrier pup named Missy. She was just shy of being 15 when I had to put her down because she had some bad kidney problems. She wasn't my very first pet, but she was my first companion.
One day, my mom and I were making chocolate chip cookies. When we were done, I grabbed a few and put them on a low coffee table in front of the tv with the intent of vegging out to a favorite show at the time. My mom called me back into the kitchen to help her really quick and I left the cookies out. It took me no more than a minute or two to help her and when I turned back around, I saw Missy slowly walking away with her head down and her tail between her legs. I pointed her odd behavior out to mom and she called Missy's name. Missy looked up at us and she had one of the cookies in her mouth! I gave chase and she ran behind the couch, ate the cookie as fast as she could, and then came out with a look that said "Okay, I ate it. Now you can punish me."
Chocolate and woofies don't mix. It can be poisonous for them. We're frequently having to make sure that candy is beyond the reach of our guys.
Quote from: Carl Heinz on February 12, 2009, 03:59:08 PM
Chocolate and woofies don't mix. It can be poisonous for them. We're frequently having to make sure that candy is beyond the reach of our guys.
Yeah, I know that it is not good for them by any means. That incident was my fault for not moving them where she couldn't get them. It was still very cute and funny though.
Dominic, your story reminds me of other "mouth" incidents. Many people teach their dog a command to drop things from their mouth. In my case, I use the command "leave it." My elkhound, Wicca, would have been a complete garbage hound if she'd had the chance. When she was younger she would dutifully drop whatever experimental object she'd just picked up to chew. But later she got rebellious and instead of offering up the object that she knew would permanently disappear, she would swallow it. So if I suspected what she had in her mouth would be dangerous for her to swallow, I would refrain from using "Leave it" and instead would nonchalantly walk up to her and pry her mouth open to extract the latest gourmet garbage.
Sometimes, however, she would honor the command. One day we were in a high meadow in the Big Horn mtns of WY. Voles had tunnels just under the surface of the ground. Wicca kept cocking her head at the tunnels and pouncing on them. Once she poked her nose down and seemed to come up with something in her mouth. I said her name and she turned to me with this look of complete innocence but with two pink vole feet peddling out of her mouth. She must have judged it too big to swallow because she dropped it when I asked her to and it immediately disappeared into the earth. I let her do this a couple more times before moving into an area where there were fewer tunnels. She was not a great hunter so they must have been very lethargic voles. (Had to wonder why the coyotes weren't keeping the population in better check.)
Then there is my granddog Bailey. He in a solid red brown all over and only weighs 30 some odd pounds.
He loves our backyard because of all the birds and squirrels. He runs out as soon as he sees one but he doesn't bark.
The squirrrels wil run up the tree but when he stands there not making noise, they come back down to check him out. The male squirrels will occasionally come down from the tree and challenge him. I guess they think he's some sort of mutant sqquirrel.
It is potentially dangerous for Bailey,
But it looks hilarious to see the squirrel stand his ground and chiiter away.
My story is from when I was very little around 4 years of age as my Mom told me anyway. We took in abused German Shepard's and raised them as our own. We had one German Shepard her name was Mitzy and she thought that she was my mother, when I would try and go out towards the road, as we lived in the country, she would grab my pants or shirt or whatever piece of clothing she get a hold of and pull me back up towards the house and my parents where supprised that she did not grab on any skin at all. Mitzy wouldn't even let anyone near me that she did not know, she would get between me and the person and start growling and if the growling didn't work it would progress to barking and bearing of the teeth, she was very protective of the whole family that way but me especially. When she would lay down Mitzy would let me lay my head on her and we would fall asleep together, my Mom has a picture of me and Mitzy in the kitchen curled up sleeping. Mitzy and all of our shepards were all wonderful dogs that we had including Tish, and Skip, and they all came from abused homes.
I have a Boston Terrier/Chiuaua (sp?) mix, she looks like a petite Boston. Bella ablsolutely goes bonkers when birds fly over her yard. They could be 30 feet in the air, just passing thru and she will bark at them, and it they light on a tree branch or the roof of the patio, she will bark her voice away.
A cat could and often does walk thru the back yard as well as Moose, our resident squirell, and she could care less.
She also loves to tug...anything. She has trimmed all of the small shrubs in the back yard as well as the honeysuckle vines. She grabs on and tugs and pulls until the vine or limb snaps and them moves onto the next one. If she can not reach one, she howls and cries until we either bring her inside or we bend a limb down and she can start tugging again.
All these dog carrying things stories reminds me of a summer, years ago. I was visiting with an uncle who lives a few miles outside of Redding, in a small canyon that leads into the river. There was at the time an old wolf who had moved into the canyon years before that. I don't remember her not being there. She was solitary, and had kind of adopted the two families living in the canyon as her pack. It was really cool but and little wierd, and a little sad to have this beautiful animal attatch herself to people. She lived loose in the canyon, but if you were outside, she'd come and hang out, even following you inside, and letting you pet her. But she was actually wild, just one of the residents of the canyon.
My uncle had a couple cats. No horrified gasps please. One of his cats had had a litter of kittnes that were about 3 weeks old. My uncle and I came back from a walk to find the wolf, soaking wet, standing over the den of kittens. Not really paying attention to the fact that she was wet, we ran over to try to protect the kittens, expecting the worse. As we ran up, she moved in closer, and proceeded to spit something out, and turned away. We ran up, to find another kitten, not one of the litter, probably about a week old, laying in there with the rest of the kittens.
Nearest we could figure, with the river being less than a mile away, the wolf being wet, and the strange kitten, was that she had found it in the tiver (probably dumped), and brought it to the nearest place it would be safe. The kitten spent the rest of its life known as the wolf kitty.
I got "man-handled" by an 8.5 lb Italian Greyhound puppy at a dog show in Greenville, SC last weekend!
I was helpin' my Beautious Lady and one of her friends to show some Italian Greyhounds on my virgin voyage to the show ring...(that stuff ain't easy folks!). On Sunday, Lady M's good friend Mary had me show one of her puppies. We practiced our down and back routine before going into the ring, almost flawlessly. We got in the ring, I put th' little one on the table for the judge and did just fyne.
Then the judge asked us to walk "down and back" so she could see the little feller in motion. We took about 2 steps and errrrrrt! The pupper locked 'is legs an' said "No Way Jose! We ain't goin' NO WHERE!" I tried to tug 'im a little to see if'n 'ed go...but no...his front paws only skidded a little. I knew I wasn't going to drag him, that would be a nokie-dokie, so I smiled and tried sweet talkin' him, everything...but no dice. FINALLY I got him about three-quarters of the way. When we turned back, he pranced along like he should.
Though I was mortified beyond belief...apparently seeing this big dude in a suit being totally man-handled by a puppy got a LOT of sympathy points from the judge and the rest of the participants.
Let's just say I have a NEW appreciation for what all goes into those fancy-prancy dog shows! (I think I'll stick to professional wrestling, 'tis a LOT easier!) :P
So my Dog Tale from Molden & I's Valentine's Adventure Weekend was...
we were staying at a La Quinta in Huntsville, Alabama for a couple of nights. So our second night, this past Tuesday we decide to go out to dinner. It's really cold and we've had the pupper dogs out with us all day so we tuck them in their lil crates for a nap while we go for food! 1 1/2 hours later we come back and there's this young girl walking an Italian Greyhound. I get so excited and ask her, "is that an Italian Greyhound" and she says, "yes it is" I say, "oh my gosh, I'm traveling with a couple myself" she says, "yes I know, this is your dog we had a complaint that they had been locked up all day and needed to potty." In disbelief I reply, "no, no they were with us all day, we just went to get supper." The next day Molden using his expert sleuthing skills determined it was the trucker complaining to deflect ALL the attention he had been getting from running his truck, setting off car alarms & etc.
me own black 'eart jumps up in me throat it does, everytyme I remember seeing Bozzie out in th' parkin' lot with a stranger, it does! Thankfully both boys were crated, and she was a contientious dog lover....like you and Lady D, when I think of it, I don't know exactly how to take that... *whew!*
Me too Hun and I don't thynk there are too many things that get Mary as wide-eyed as when I told her THAT story! I very clearly see lil Bozman's face looking up at me in the car as he recognized my voiice, "Mommie is that you?" oy vay thank goodness she was a dog lover and being very careful with my prancy prancy show dog... (Roman just tooted whew...)