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CaroGirl
06-08-2011, 05:07 PM
I'm looking for stories about favourite dogs. The irascible mutt that won your heart. The sweet mop you loved from the start. The ugly mug you couldn't help but love.

Dogs have a hold on our hearts. Tell me why.

Chris P
06-08-2011, 05:11 PM
I understand dogs. Dogs make sense. Dogs are how people should be: unreserved in affection, prone to random bouts of joy, obedient only to the pleasure of the now.

CaroGirl
06-08-2011, 05:22 PM
I understand dogs. Dogs make sense. Dogs are how people should be: unreserved in affection, prone to random bouts of joy, obedient only to the pleasure of the now.

I couldn't agree more, Chris. Did you have a special dog? Any stories to share?

Haggis
06-08-2011, 05:25 PM
:popcorn:

Cathy C
06-08-2011, 05:35 PM
Why are you looking for them? If you're requesting stories to publish in an anthology or magazine you're planning or work for, this is the wrong forum. This room is for research-only questions.

CaroGirl
06-08-2011, 05:41 PM
Why are you looking for them? If you're requesting stories to publish in an anthology or magazine you're planning or work for, this is the wrong forum. This room is for research-only questions.

Gosh, no! I'm writing a novel that features dogs. I want some ideas about dog antics, both frustrating and endearing, to turn into a few scenes in the novel. Definitely not interested in using anything verbatim.

ETA: My dog ate my favourite bra once. I guess I could use that. :)

Cathy C
06-08-2011, 06:06 PM
Ah! :LilLove: No worries then. Carry on. :)

I have two stories then. Here's my story about Brin, my pit bull/hound/lab cross. We call her "raptor girl." Remember the movie, Jurassic Park, where the game keeper is talking about the female leader of the raptors? "She's smart, damned smart. You can look in her eyes and tell--she's working things out."

Brin loves nothing better than testing the fences to see if she can get out. Over, under, through--doesn't matter to her. She can do a standing jump of a four foot fence, like a cat, and a running jump even higher. And she's got enough hound in her that her nose rules and she will wind up miles away following a scent.

Scary smart dog. But not quite as smart as a former dog, Kai. That dog not only was smart, she planned things. She loved potato chips, went insane over them. We figured out she was taking the chips off the counter, so we started putting them higher. But they would still disappear--bags and all. We finally installed a camera in the kitchen and were jaw-dropping floored by what we saw. She lifted up her nose, found the chips, (and here's the important part!) grabbed one of the kitchen chair legs in her teeth, pulled it over to the refrigerator, hopped up, stood on her hind legs, grabbed the chip bag, jumped back down . . . (and here's the amazing part!) she PUT THE CHAIR BACK!

Then she took the bag to the other room, scattered the chips on the floor so the other dogs could share and then . . . HID THE BAG under a couch cushion.

Honestly, you could write it in a book but nobody would believe it. Scary smart...

areteus
06-08-2011, 07:21 PM
Our dog has many antics... mainly due to him being more intelligent than the average dog but not intelligent enough to spot the obvious consequences...

He has a tendency to try to deliberately lose his balls - in rivers, in undergrowth etc - so that you have to buy him new ones. He is also a bit wierd about alcohol. He used to run away and hide whenever we opened a bottle of wine (we suspect he used to be abused by someone who drank, mores the pity, one day we may track down all his previous owners and teach them the true meaning of compassion... with extreme prejudice). Now he merely gives us a disapproving glance like a born again methodist.

shaldna
06-08-2011, 07:40 PM
I had a colliexspringer. my dad took us to see the animals at a USPCA rescue centre to put us off getting a dog - come look at all the mean, bad, barking and violent dogs.

Well, while we were being shown all teh worst cases, and given a lecture about the responsibility of having a dog, this little black and white ball jumped the door in the puppy enclosure and I scooped her up and refused to let her go. Dad had to adopt her because I wouldn't put her down.

We had her for 16 years before she died of old age.

She was the sweetest dog when she knew you, but she would have killed a stranger who came to the house. anyone breaking in would have deserved what they got.

The only time she was weird was when I had my daughter. she got all strange and wouldn't let me stroke her or even touch her. but she took to my daughter straight away, and used to lie beside her baby chair, or under her cot. every photo we have of my daughter has the dog in it too, she took it upon herself to guard her. even though she was totally blind at that stage.

she had cataracts, but she developed them very late in life, and the vet didn't think it was a good idea to remove them at her age, as she probably wouldn't come through the op. it never bothered her though. she knew her home and was comfortable. the only time she struggled was when we went anywhere new, and she tended to stick close to your legs, but other than that, people were always shocked to find out she was blind.

aruna
06-08-2011, 08:13 PM
Here's my dog story! (http://absolutewrite.com/forums/showpost.php?p=414245&postcount=6)

ETA:

When Arjun was a puppy, six months old, he started to go lame. At first it was just a dragging of the hind legs, but it got worse and worse very quichly. The vet had no idea what was wrong. Two days later he could hardly move his legs; when he tried to walk, he stumbled and fell over. We went to another vet, had x-rays taken, no explanation. We took him to a dog hospital. By this time he could not walk. He just lay there, almost as if paralysed. They couldn't figure out what was wrong. They wanted to do some expensive procedure which involved removing bone marrow just in order to test it, and dig into his brain or something - mind you, it wasn't a treatment, just some kind of very complicated procedure to see if he had a neurological problem. I can't remember what the vet said at the time - it was very technical, and only one thing was clear - they had no idea what was wrong. We felt it was all ********.

We took him home and refused the diagnostic procedure. We were advised to put him to sleep, but as he didn't seem to be in pain, we didn't. It was my daughter's beloved dog; she was ten at the time.

By this time he couldn't even eat. He lay on the carpet and we fed him liquids through a syringe. He couldn't even lift his head. But you could tell he wasn't in pain by the eyes, which were freindly and puzzled, but not fearful or in anguish. He seemed to be dying.

Every morning I woke up and expected to find him dead. But I would go into the sitting room and the first thing I'd hear was "thump, thump, thump" - his tail wagging, and hitting the floor. He still couldn't lift his head, but was taking in the liquids. I prepared my daughter for his death as well as I could.

We were supposed to all be going to India, but my husband opted to stay behind to look after Arjun, who still couldn't move. Days later, there was no change - just the tail wagging.

On Christmas day, we were sitting on a hill and my daughter prayed with all her heart for him. She told God, if it was possible, to heal him, but if not, let him die and look after his soul.

We called my husband that evening and he said Arjun was eating again. The next day, he was struggling to get up. A day later, he was walking. A week later, he was back to normal.

When we returned to Germany, my husband had researched the whole thing and found the answer:
Arjun was at that phase where he chewed everything up. The week before he took ill, he had dug up all my husband's potted plants in the basement and ripped them apart.
Among the destoyed plants was cyclamen; my husband found out that the roots of cyclamen are poisonous, and the symptoms are exactly those the dog showed. He actually should have died.

sheadakota
06-08-2011, 08:18 PM
Ahh Caro I wrote this a few weeks before the best dog I ever had died- its been four years and I still miss him- this might not be exactly what you are lookng for but there are a few antics in there-





We first met when you were only six weeks old. Black as coal but for the patch of white on your chest, your eyes barely seen in the face of dark fur. You practically named yourself; Bear. You grew into an athletic and energetic teenager, accompanying us on horseback rides, always outrunning the horses even in a full gallop. You were a thing of beauty to watch, head bobbing in time to your gait, legs pumping as you ate up the ground at your feet.
My boy, my Bear.

At two you tipped the scales at eighty lean mean pounds and scared the crap out of friends and strangers alike, but I knew there was nothing scary about you. Hiding under anything that could accommodate you during thunderstorms, or whenever I ran the vacuum cleaner, you were a big furry, black chicken.
My scary, big, Bear.

You forgave me when I screamed at you for eating the TV remote, the portable phone and the kitchen cabinet. That was when we learned about crate training.
I forgave you the time you dropped a deer skull scavenged from the woods on my back, or killed the groundhog and cracked opened its head to get at the good stuff and then licked me in the face, all forgiven, all great stories saved in time.

We never gave up on you when you went missing for over a day. Lying in a hunters foot trap, quiet and still, we must have passed you half a dozen times until we realized it was you.

The uncertainty at whether you would loose your leg or not and the relief at finding out the trap was too small and you were too big. Keeping me company in the quiet of night when I couldn’t sleep, defending me from the boogey man, both real and imagined.

My hero, my Bear.

Always a gentleman with the cats, never chasing them, letting them sit on you, even letting one little orphan try to nurse off your teats. That cat thought it was a dog until the day it died, my reluctant nurse maid, my Bear.

Babysitter extraordinaire, letting me know when the kids where getting into something they shouldn’t be. Waking them up with sloppy doggy-kisses in the morning and even dragging them out of bed when necessary. Helping me herd the horses when they got out, doing fence repairs on cold November days with me. You had a knack for finding the downed areas I missed. It seems you have always been there and now I watch you and wonder where the years have gone.

You lie sleeping at my feet, most of the black threaded through with white now, your muzzle nearly gray with it. Arthritic hips betray your youth and keep you house bound these days. I have to help lift you up the two steps to the door as you whine and yip your frustration. The ninety pound puppy has taken your alpha role and it kills me to see you relent to her, but always the gentleman you have taken this with grace and dignity.

You still want to go running with the horses and it breaks my heart to have to leave you at home. You look at me as if I have betrayed you, when it is your own failing body that has done the betraying.

Thirteen short years, it isn’t fair, and it isn’t nearly enough for one of your strength and heart. I knew going into this I would be the one saying goodbye, but I didn’t count on you taking a piece of my soul with you.

I watch you kick in your sleep, dreaming the dreams dogs dream. I hope in your dreams you are young and free of pain and when you run you always beat the horses up the hill, tail wagging, waiting for me to join you, for that is how I will always see you.

My first dog, my friend, my Bear.

CaroGirl
06-08-2011, 08:28 PM
Aw, sheadakota, nicely written. A very moving piece and I thank you for sharing it. Bear sounds like she was a truly special dog.

Chris P
06-08-2011, 08:29 PM
In high school I got a black lab/siberian husky mix I named Pavlov. Oh Pavvie, you were your own dog and nobody could tell you differently. You gave me 12 years of the best dog stories ever. But this is probably the grossest.

Visiting the parents one weekend (I was at college by then), I walked into my bedroom and Pav was on the floor. He looked up at me with that guilty-but-only-because-you-caught-me look. He might have gotten away with it if not for the pieces of green paper sticking out of his mouth.

I pried open his mouth and retrieved three of the $18 I had. Yep, he'd swallowed the ten and the five.

"Oh Dad, can I ask a favor?" Dad was a great sport about it, and although we never thought we'd see the money again, dear old Dad agreed to spray down the landmines in Pav's yard for a week after I went back to college. On the last day he was going to check, there they were.

If the question is ever asked in this forum about what happens to American paper money in the digestive system of a dog, I can provide a first-hand answer. It becomes brittle and discolored, but otherwise remains intact.

So intact, in fact, that the lady at the bank didn't hesitate when I took the bills to her to exchange. "Both serial numbers are there, so things look good."

"Great," I said once I had the new money safely in hand. "Those went through the dog and I wasn't sure you'd exchange them."

I left the bank with faint "Eewwwwws" behind me.

aruna
06-08-2011, 08:32 PM
Let me add this: Arjun is now 11 years old, a hairy bouncy thing who looks just like a Bear! He is also scared of vacuum cleaners and will run a mile when we turn it on!
Whenever we go for a walk and pass people, inevitably passers-by will stop and ask what breed he is, or comment on how beautiful he is. He loves the attention!
He still looks like a puppy. I think he will go on forever.
Today, on a walk, we ran into a flock of sheep. One black sheep was very friendly, came up tp be stroked -- ARjun loved her! He began licker her all over her face, her bum, everything! Maybe he thought she was a doggie-girlfriend!

CaroGirl
06-08-2011, 08:34 PM
In high school I got a black lab/siberian husky mix I named Pavlov. Oh Pavvie, you were your own dog and nobody could tell you differently. You gave me 12 years of the best dog stories ever. But this is probably the grossest.

Visiting the parents one weekend (I was at college by then), I walked into my bedroom and Pav was on the floor. He looked up at me with that guilty-but-only-because-you-caught-me look. He might have gotten away with it if not for the pieces of green paper sticking out of his mouth.

I pried open his mouth and retrieved three of the $18 I had. Yep, he'd swallowed the ten and the five.

"Oh Dad, can I ask a favor?" Dad was a great sport about it, and although we never thought we'd see the money again, dear old Dad agreed to spray down the landmines in Pav's yard for a week after I went back to college. On the last day he was going to check, there they were.

If the question is ever asked in this forum about what happens to American paper money in the digestive system of a dog, I can provide a first-hand answer. It becomes brittle and discolored, but otherwise remains intact.

So intact, in fact, that the lady at the bank didn't hesitate when I took the bills to her to exchange. "Both serial numbers are there, so things look good."

"Great," I said once I had the new money safely in hand. "Those went through the dog and I wasn't sure you'd exchange them."

I left the bank with faint "Eewwwwws" behind me.

Ah-ha-ha-ha!!! Great story, Chris. Thanks! LOL @ "those went through the dog."

Chris P
06-08-2011, 08:35 PM
Aww, sheadakota. Got a tear in my eye here.

mirandashell
06-08-2011, 10:22 PM
I once had a Jack Russell/bull terrier mix. He had his left front leg missing from an RTA. So people fell in love as soon as they saw him, including me. I got him from the Dog's Home.

He loved to fight other dogs. It wasn't fear, or intimidation, or bullying. He just loved to scrap. When he saw another dog, his ears would go up, his tail would wag. And then he'd grab their ear in his teeth......

And he loved to chew stuff. Balls, bones, TV remotes, new shoes.....

And he learnt how to open the fridge. I watched him without him knowing. He lay down on the side with no leg, pushed his nose and other front paw under the fridge door and broke the seal. He was just about to help himself when I yelled at him. He jumped in the air and then wagged his tail like he was so pleased to see me!

CaroGirl
06-08-2011, 10:26 PM
I had a Bichon named Teddy (cuz he looked like a fluffy white teddy bear). He could open the back screen door with his nose. He'd just nuzzle it in there, pry it an inch open, widen the opening with his paw and body, and in he came (or out he went, depending). Damned if I could get him to close it behind him, though.

He also used to watch TV.

He was a funny wee doggy, my Teddy. Had to put him down last year at age 15.

Puma
06-08-2011, 11:21 PM
My husband found Ivan (Scavinski Scavar) when he was just a large ball of golden brown fluff. When he matured, Ivan was a beautiful dog - about 65 pounds, probably a collie-husky type mix with golden fur with darker accents, ears that almost stood up, and a magnificent curled tail. Ivan was my dog - and he was a sweetie.

Almost too sweet - so I started play fighting with him - he knew it was all in fun - Mom would roughhouse him and put her arms up to block his attacks. Great fun. One day my husband came out of the house and, I'm not sure what my husband did, but Ivan thought it was play time. My husband didn't know to block him and as a consequence lost the front of his suede jacket.

We have a creek at the back of our property and a hole deep enough to swim in on hot days. The three of us went back to the creek for a dip one day after work. All was fine until I decided to swim under water. Ivan went crazy. In his desperation to get to me he literally climbed over my husband (long scratches on hubby's stomach and back.) So, I decided that the best thing to do was take Ivan back to the house. As soon as we got out of the water, Ivan grabbed my hand in his mouth and wouldn't let go until we were back at the house.

I took Ivan through obedience school. He would not heel and the instructor finally said to let him lead - Ivan had to be out in front protecting me. Well, sometimes. We got to class early every time so there was some time to play around a bit before the class started. Ivan and I were practicing fast heel when that sucker cut in front of me and I went over his back. When I came up I grabbed him by the cheeks and made it clear in no uncertain terms he wasn't to do that.

Ivan loved everybody and everything. But he found out at obedience school that his attitude wasn't shared by all of the other dogs. The night of the first class a Norwegian Elkhound when after him. Two classes later, the elkhound dropped out and the new adversary became a Samoyed. After Ivan figured out the Samoyed had intentions of causing him bodily harm, it was a constant fight to keep the two of them from mixing it up. On graduation night, final exam, the instructors put Ivan and the Samoyed side by side in the center of the long line of dogs. Everything went fine until we got to the three minute down stay when we had to walk across the room away from the dogs. After about a minute Ivan's head came up and was followed by his front legs - he was sitting. Then the rear came up and he started looking around and saw the Samoyed. I didn't want any lawsuits, but I also wanted to try to be a calm owner, so I crouched down and softly said his name. Ivan came right to me and sat down beside me. AND - he passed obedience school, headstong though he was.

A couple years later our daughter was born. When we came home from the hospital Ivan raced to the car happy that Mom was home. I really can't describe his reaction when he discovered the baby in my arms, but it was joyful. We took our daughter in and put her in her crib. For the next week plus, Ivan only left his post under the crib when he absolutely had too. And for the first couple days, whenever our daughter made any noise, he'd race downstairs and grab my hand to make me go up to check her out.

What can I say. Ivan was one a kind, a dog that only comes along once in a lifetime. We've had many dogs since (have four now), but none can compare with that lovable hunk of golden brown fur. Puma

writingismypassion
06-08-2011, 11:23 PM
My husband and I have a 50+ lb mutt named Tucker. He is 9yrs old and he is our baby. He loves everyone and doesn't fight with other dogs, but he has broken a few collars while trying to chase bunnies, cats, opposums, or any other country critter. He's very smart, but he is terrified of storms. He's a good watch dog. Barks at chain saws, lawn mowers, and weed eaters, though. He definitely has his own personality! We love him... :)

ChristyM
06-08-2011, 11:41 PM
We went on vacation to visit relatives in NYC when I was eight and left my dog with my aunt, a town (including forests, rivers, beaches) away. The dog disappeared from my aunt's. Three days later, my mother received a call from our neighbor. Our dog had walked nine miles to our house (a journey she had only ever taken in a car) and was lying under a bush there. Its true!

shaldna
06-09-2011, 12:40 AM
we never locked the back door when my dog was alive. hell, we never even closed it.

:)


In the sport of 'dogs against the odds' I'll tell you about my hubby's dog. He had a little pom cross years ago, and one night he just went all weird. limp and frightnened, he couldn't move right.

it tool about a week of tests to work out what was wrong with him. he had a blood clot that had lodged in his neck. the dog was paralyzed from the neck down and the vets wanted to put him down. they said he wouldn't last a week.

the family refused, and, seven years later, he eventually died in his own bed at home.

The little thing used to haul himself about by means of shuffling and dragging, and he pretty much had a full life, he would let you know when he wanted lifted, and where he wanted to go, and when he wanted left alone.

people said he should have been put down, but he loved his life, and he got so much from it it would have been a sin to put him down. the fact that he rolled around and tormented people for seven years afterwards says a lot about his character.

NinaK
06-09-2011, 01:37 AM
I have an eighty five pound one year old Rhodesian Ridgeback, a real chuckle headed hound. Brody plays the piano by running his chin along the keys. If you’re in the next room it sounds like someone is practicing scales, sort of.

Chris P
06-09-2011, 01:59 AM
Pav once caught and killed a small squirrel in the back yard. He didn't know what to do with it, so he buried in the rock garden, making a perfect little funeral cairn. It was a perfect rectangle, about three inches high all around and the edges were ruler-straight. Of course he dug it out again in a few days when it was all stinky and then tried to bring it everywhere.

Oh, which reminds me. Whenever he had something he wasn't supposed to bring inside, he'd stand at the back door with it in his mouth until one of us opened the door. We'd push him back and say "No, you can't bring that inside." So he'd set it down and then stare at us until one of us opened the door again. He'd grab it and try to run in with it, but we'd close the door with "No, Pav. It stays outside." Next he would place it about three feet away, and then come stand at the door. As soon as my hand was on the handle, he'd zip off and grab whatever it was. So I'd walk away and he'd put it about six feet away and then come back to the door and stare. He'd dash for it again as soon as he saw me coming, and this would go on until it was far enough away he couldn't get to it before I had the door open and called him.

Chase
06-09-2011, 03:20 AM
Fort Benton, Montana, is the farthest inland port in North America--over 3,500 miles from the Gulf of Mexico by flat-bottomed cargo boats.

It's the home of Montana's most famous monument to her most faithful dog.

http://www.fortbenton.com/shep/story.html

Nice thread, CaroGirl.

ether
06-09-2011, 03:33 AM
I had a Shiba Inu puppy ages ago. His name was Ban, and he would eat. Every. Thing. He especially loved bras and toilet paper, and it got to the point where we had to put the TP rolls on the counter because he learned how to paw at the bathroom door and get inside when we weren't home.

So one day I came home, wandered in, saw the bathroom door open, and there he was - standing on the counter with a whole roll of TP in his mouth, just... staring at me. Like he thought holding still would make me not notice him. The second I looked right at him and sighed, he bolted off the counter and hid under the bed, TP and all.

Chase
06-09-2011, 03:39 AM
Here's a cute video showing a dog coaxing a "stranger" to play throw-the-stick.

http://www.wimp.com/throwstick/

CaroGirl
06-09-2011, 04:19 PM
Here's a cute video showing a dog coaxing a "stranger" to play throw-the-stick.

http://www.wimp.com/throwstick/

That was hilarious!

Haggis
06-09-2011, 04:59 PM
From my blog. A (mostly) true story:

We had a dog named Othello, a fine, upstanding dog if there ever was one. Othello wasn't quite sure what to make of my new granddaughter, Samantha. All he knew when we brought her home was that she squeaked, cried and she was, in a word, odoriferous.

Clearly, she wasn't a puppy, but she was hardly a person either. Othello was confused, and being a dog, he was especially concerned as to where that left him in the pecking order of the pack. He knew he had seniority over her, and was easily a good fifteen pounds heavier. On the other paw, he didn't get to sleep on the couch; she did. It made no sense to him. He determined to stick by her side and keep an eye on her. That was something he'd come to regret.

When Sam was about three months old, she stole the dog's pillow. It was a huge, brown, circular, padded pillow covered with little black and white paw prints. It sat in the middle of the living room floor directly across from the television set. Othello loved to sprawl on that pillow and watch the CBS Evening News. One night at 6:00 PM sharp, he trotted into the living room and stopped short. Sam lay plopped in the middle of his pillow. He looked at her. Then he looked at me. Then he looked at her again. A tear formed in the corner of his eye and slowly trickled down his snout. He hung his head and skulked out of the room, utterly defeated. It was a sad thing to see, and Othello's knowledge of current events was never the same after that.

Little did he know things were about to get even worse for him.

At about four months, Sam started teething. For those of you with neither children nor little siblings, let me tell you a bit about teething. Teething is a tough time for babies, but it' even harder on their parents. The only worse time in a parent's life is the teenage years, when little Brandon starts wearing goth makeup, little Alexis comes home with a tongue stud and little Savannah insists on getting a tramp stamp. Teething babies are almost as miserable as teenagers. They whine. They moan. They cry. They run a fever. They drool. And they gnaw on anything within reach. Sam was no exception.

For Othello there was good news and bad news. The good news was that she found his kibble unpalatable. The bad news was that she appropriated his NylaboneŽ chew toy.

Think of this from Othello's perspective. Prior to Sam's arrival, he'd had a pretty good life. He had his pillow, he had his NylaboneŽ, and he knew his place in the scheme of things. Samantha had disrupted all of that. Now, as he stood in the doorway, he watched as she lay on his pillow gnawing away at his NylaboneŽ, and he could only wonder what she would do next to further destroy his life.

The poor dog was inconsolable. I took pity on him. I bought Sam her own NylaboneŽ.

CaroGirl
06-09-2011, 05:18 PM
LOL! Great story, Haggis. Well told!

dreamcatcher
06-09-2011, 06:39 PM
Great thread!

We have a thirteen-year-old Jack Russell and a five-year-old beagle/fox hound/monster in our family.

Merlin, our Jack Russell, has "small dog complex" (as many terriers do.) One of our old neighbours had a horse (in the suburbs, mind you) who once ate our lawn because a) suburban backyards are generally too small to keep a horse and b) we were lazy. Anyway, Merlin most certainly did not approve. He attacked it. Imagine a fully grown horse versus an ankle-high Jack Russell Terrier. I don't know where he got the balls to do that (he's de-sexed after all!) but I really admire his bravery.

Strangely enough though, despite his bravery, he has several phobias. He's terrified of heights, water, floorboards, hopper poppers, gaps between the bed and the wall and being alone. I remember my mother and I once decided to see what he would do if a stranger were to enter the house when no one was home. We very quietly opened the front door and peeped around the corner of the hall only to see Merlin peeping around the corner back at us at the other end! You could tell he was so relieved to find out it was us! So very cute.

He also pees in front of the toilet when he's left inside while we're out. Courtesy, right?

Our beagle/fox hound/monster just eats everything, including rocks and tissues. Everything except olives, that is. And she's petrified of bubbles. Weird.

:)

ElsaM
06-10-2011, 04:55 PM
The breeder had lined up three vizsla puppies she'd decided might be suitable for us from the litter. One was little and shivering, one was beautiful and calm and happy to see us, one was nuts. I liked the middle puppy. The breeder looked at her, shook her head, and said "just a minute". All three were put on the floor and she started dragging a dried bird wing tied to a string along the ground. The little, scared puppy hid in the corner. The lovely calm puppy immediately focused on the bird wing and the crazy puppy ate a scrap of paper.
"I'm sorry," said the breeder as she put the nice puppy back with the others. "This one is going to a home that wants to hunt with her. You'll have to choose between the other two."

After fishing the ball of paper out of her mouth, we took the crazy puppy. She curled up in my lap in the car and licked my face.

When we finally got home and placed her on the lounge room floor our cat came over to see what we'd brought her. We were afraid the cat would hate us for bringing a horrible dog into the house. She stared at the puppy, leapt up onto her back legs and waved her front paws in the air. Then she ran away. She had to do that three times before the puppy finally chased her.

When the puppy was fully grown they had to modify their wrestling technique. The cat would put the dog in a headlock and the dog would chew on the cat's back leg. We would have intervened, but they always seemed to be having a good time.

We found out pretty quickly that the puppy had severe separation anxiety and we were never able to fix it. After weeks of sleepless nights (I was convinced she'd learn to sleep by herself in the laundry) we found ourselves nailing insulation bats to the laundry door, and realised we needed a better solution.

In the end we had to get another dog so she would never be alone. They didn't get on, but it didn't matter because Dog 2 counted as a person and she no longer screamed when we left the room. She was a smart puppy and Dog 2 wasn't so it was interesting watching her train him. She had a list of 'command barks' he'd obey.

She was the most enthusiastic dog I ever knew. She never walked if she could run, ever, because she was so excited about what was going to happen next. She chased birds instead of pointing at them, but would stalk and point at house flies. One of her favourite treats was lettuce. She'd go snorkelling in her water bowl and wore a red cape to keep warm because apparently Hungarian breeds can't cope with a cool breeze. She slept under her blankets and was afraid of the kitchen. Her nickname was Little Miss Annoying.

She died at the age of four, after an accident brought about by her anxiety.

I'm pretty sure I won't meet another dog like her.

Royal Mercury
06-10-2011, 06:35 PM
When I was married, we had two Jack Russell Terriers. They were brothers and litter mates, identical in size. JRTs were bred as hunters, so our two loved to go after whatever they could. I saw a show on hunting dogs, where the hunter was talking about how you have to teach a dog to go after the game, it isn't just going to leap into the dog's mouth. Ours were pretty aggressive and obsessed when it came to hunting so that was never an issue.

In the desert, where we lived, we had a rat problem because rats would use the power lines as a freeway and the connections to the house as an off-ramp. In the backyard, we had two massive palm trees. They had grown together at the base to form a big V, and one of the trees touched the power line down to our house.

One morning, the boys were hunting. One had found something and was pushing through the plants that covered the ground on one side of the trees. The other was standing on the far side of the trees watching.

Suddenly the first one flushed a rat. To escape, the rat ran through the crotch where the trees joined and in panic, leapt for all it was worth...

Right into the other dog's mouth, who gave it a knowing shake and snapped the rat's neck right then and there. Who says game doesn't just leap into your mouth?