Tell Me About Your Dog

This is Toby, the greatest athlete I have ever seen.



The workout he goes through every day -- and I mean every single day without exception since we got him from the pound two years ago -- would bring the most elite Kenyan marathoner, the most fit NHL player, to his knees. I could never have imagined any animal of any species could sprint and swim and jump that hard nonstop for hours without ever taking a day off.



But as long as he gets the work he needs, the rest of the time he's the sweetest, most loving dog you'll ever meet. He is positively obsessed with his dad and loves everyone he sees.

A lot of you met him during the outing, so you know what a cool dude he is. Getting a pound puppy is a crapshoot, and I hit the jackpot.

 

Pound puppies have the most character. And that last photo is awesome, Arnold.

 

That was actually taken the day we brought him home. Being in the pound was so stressful, and he just settled in here immediately.

 

Love, love your dog Arnold. Hell, I want your dog.

 

Awesome dog, Arnold.

Mine isn't allowed in the apartment.

 

This is my baby:



Her name is Sassy, because that's the most inventive name a nine-year-old can give her first puppy. I begged and pleaded for months for my parents to get me a dog. We had a dog at the time that we were breeding to make chocolate lab puppies and my dad said if Jeanie got pregnant, I could have one.

I remember the day my parents woke me up. It was January 20, 1996. My mom shook me awake and told me that Jeanie had her puppies. It had just snowed and I was the only one small enough to get in the dog house. I got up and got dressed and went out with a flashlight and crawled in the dog house to count. There were 12 and the one that was closest to me was the first to lick me. I knew that was my baby.

Unfortunately, she's 12 now. She has arthritis, amongst her other problems. She doesn't move so well anymore. My parents moved 500 miles away from me in November, so I've only seen her twice since then - at Christmas and then again when I went to visit them in May. I'll never forget opening the door to my parents' house in May and walking in the door and going, "Where's my Sassy?" and she came running over and tried to knock me over. She still knows who her mommy is, even if I now live 1,100 miles away.

I knew when I drove away that it could be the last time I see her alive because of her age and her health problems. While I was down there, I took picture after picture after picture of her, so I can have them burned into my brain, so I can never forget my first love.

Alright...I have to end here before I seriously start crying. I miss my puppy so much.

 

I'll post more later, but my dog, Teyla, came to us after I saw her as a puppy at the Animal Shelter. It was three weeks after my ten-year-old dog died and I didn't think I'd be ready for another dog so soon.

I should have known better, having grown up with dogs constantly around.

She's the best and I honestly like my dog more than most people on numerous occasions.

 

Missy is a Black Sharpei, but is very rare in that she only has one wrinkle.

Right at the back of her neck.

When she's just had her bath and been brushed, she's got a purple tint to her coat.

Gorgeous dog.

Her and kitty get along wonderfully. We've had Missy for almost 9 years. Can't imagine her not being around.

But......this dog has the worst gas of any animal, nay, any person I have ever been around.

 

We've got an 8-year-old Irish terrier named Harry who will catch a dog bisquit from 40 feet but refuses to catch a frisbee. He also likes to hunt critters in our yard -- birds, squirrels and, unfortunately, a skunk or two.

Here's a picture of an Irish terrier that looks an awful lot like Harry:

 

A few years ago, I made a video of Dottie. I was bored, got the dog and said we had a surprise for her mamma when she got home.
Ms. Slappy wasn't having a good day at work anyway, she came home, saw Dottie's video (to the tune of Bad Day) and cried...
I'd post the link, but it would out me. I will try to put it up on an ftp site to anyone who wants to see it... (PM me...)

 

My dog is a fierce defender against any and all chipmunks. One time it was at 6 a.m.

He is 12 years old, has an enlarged heart and a heart murmur and a touch of arthritis in his left leg. He is an attention hound at times and is a shameless flirt with the ladies, who in turn mostly can't get enough of him.

He hogs the covers and the bed because he stakes out his spot right next to me, although in the summer he moves away due to the heat. He whines to go outside and has learned that when he hears "What song do you want to hear?" it's almost time to go outside.

Unless, of course, it's raining. Whereupon we'll walk a few steps and he looks up to me as if to say, "You know, it's raining out here. What the hell are we doing here?" One night, he insists on going outside in a blizzard. Before we go, he goes into his ritual of jumping up and down, running around and being all excited. We get out there and the snow is blowing sideways. About three minutes in, he sits down. Refuses to go farther. So we turn back and we're walking back to the apartment when all of a sudden the arm with the leash on it is pulled behind me. In the wind and snow, he has found a lamp post and is going through the usual ritual. Then we resume the scurry home.

I think everyone has stories about their dogs and I've found I eat all of them up. I know that some day, sooner than later, my Sparky Boy will pass from this earth. I prepare, knowing that even then, the pain will be unbearable.

So, in the meantime, we compete in the ISWF (the Inter-Species Wrestling Federation), where I am the undefeated champion due to his constant disqualification for using his teeth. There also are many belly scratches still to come in his future.