CanuckBock,
Very well written and a beautiful story.
Very well written and a beautiful story.
The Old Folks Home
- Thread starter Wisher1000
- Start date
Oh good! That gives me hope in getting another lab too! Maybe I'll start with the herding dog to help train the lab
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we had a nice 4.4 bed rattler this morning
the news anchors all got taken by surprise.
http://www.usatoday.com/videos/news/nation/2014/03/17/6528115/
the news anchors all got taken by surprise.
http://www.usatoday.com/videos/news/nation/2014/03/17/6528115/
- Thread starter
- #13,716
I have a dog story, too.
The story of "Goofy."
Goofy was the best dog in the world, only she didn't know it.
I was a rookie patrol officer working midnight shift on the slow (rich) side of town. I was riding around the neighborhoods, looking for anything that looked suspicious. In one of the newer neighborhoods, there was a vacant lot between two other occupied lots. The lots in this area are huge, two or three acres each, so the vacant lot was not close to the houses that flanked it. There was a long stretch of curb along the road adjacent to the lot and in the center of that stretch of curb was a fire hydrant. Sitting next to that fire hydrant was a dog. She was black as pitch and had a medium length, wavey coat. She looked like a black Golden Retriever, or a Flat-Coated Retriever but was obviously a mutt. She had the kindest, chocolate brown eyes and her tail thumped rapidly as I pulled up and rolled down my window. She was sitting next to the fire hydrant, wearing a collar that was way too thin and just barely long enough to buckle. Attached to her collar was a piece of ski-rope, knotted around the collar on one end and trailing, broken, on the other. She appeared thin, but otherwise healthy and she seemed really glad that I stopped, but would not come to the car. I talked to her for a while then went about my business.
I took a break and went to get a bite to eat. Instead of tossing my scraps, I collected them and took them with me. I had decided to check back by and see if the dog was there and if she was truly hungry. She was, on both accounts. She wagged her tail and stood up when she saw the car, but still wouldn't come to the car. It was as if she were tied to the hydrant. She stood excitedly by as I exited the car with my bag of scraps and approached her. She could smell the food but didn't rush forward. I put the scraps on the grass in front of her and she scarfed them in one breath. I called her to come to me but she wouldn't budge. I went back to the car and drove away with her watching until I was out of sight. Several times throughout the night, I checked on her. She was always glad to see me and always riveted to that spot. I began to realize that she had been dropped there and was waiting faithfully for her owners to return.
Once my shift was over, I returned to the dog in my own car. I found her curled up in the grass by the hydrant, asleep. She didn't jump up when I stopped until I spoke to her. She was happy and bouncy at my joke of showing up in another car to fool her. I took her rope in my hand and tried to lead her to my car. Nope. She dug her feet in and refused to leave her hydrant. I had to bodily pick her up and force her into the back seat of my car. She was in panic mode and certain she must stay and wait for her people. She freted and whined all the way home.
I went to the houses in the neighborhood the next day. No one had a dog like that nor knew of anyone in the area that did. I put an ad in the paper. Lost dog with a description, leaving out the one distinguishing trait of her's to verify ownership. She had a tail that looked to be about half as long as it should have been. The ad ran for two weeks and I took exactly two calls. One was a lady that started the conversation by saying, "You have my dog!" I asked her to describe the dog and she repeated her statement. Now, I figured she would describe what I had in the paper, black dog, medium length wavy hair, small white spot on chest. I would then ask what was unusual about her tail. If she could tell me that it was short by half, I would turn over the dog. She became irate and demanded my address so she could come get her dog. I once again asked for a description of the dog and she said it was brown with black and white spots and had short hair. I tried to explain that this was not her dog but she yelled and cursed and I hung up on her. The second call was a man saying that his dog had gone missing from another part of town, but he would just make sure. He described the dog to a T. When asked about the tail, he said the tail was not as long as it should be. I was disappointed, I had already become attached to her and asked, wistfully, what he had called the dog. "Buster" he said. I thought that was odd, but what the heck, I had a female cat named Walter, once. I told him my address and we arranged a time for him to pick her up. I ended the conversation by saying that if she ever had puppies, I would be interested in having one. He said, "My dog is a boy." "Are you sure?" "Of course, I'm sure! If the dog you have is a girl, it's not my dog!" And he hung up.
She was mine. I loved her dearly, but she was clingy. Every time I walked out the door, she tried to put her front legs around my neck and her back legs around my waist. It didn't matter if I had on shorts, uniform, heels and hose, or jeans. She was all over me. I had plans to spend some serious training time on her as soon as I had a day off, but in the meantime, I would carry an umbrella to keep her off of me and would repeat "Get away from me you goofy dog, get away you goofy dog." It stuck, her name was Goofy Dog. It took about an hour to train her not to jump on me. I went outside with long sleeves and jeans and ignored her as I walked out into the back yard. I sat down and she was jumping on my head and back. She stuck feet and legs down my collar and nearly took one ear off. I sat there with my head down until she got tired and sat down for a second. When she was siting next to me, I started talking to her and petting her. She jumped on me again and again, I ignored her. We went through this two or three more times and it suddenly clicked, if she wanted attention, she had to sit quietly. She never jumped on me again. After that day, she would see me come out the back door, she would run wide open and slid to a stop in front of me, quivering and whimpering, but with her butt firmly planted on the ground. I would gently rub her head and across her eyes and she was in heaven.
I have lots of Goofy stories, but I'll save them for another time. She lived with me until she died. I still miss her, she was the best dog her previous owners could have ever had. I was the lucky one.
The story of "Goofy."
Goofy was the best dog in the world, only she didn't know it.
I was a rookie patrol officer working midnight shift on the slow (rich) side of town. I was riding around the neighborhoods, looking for anything that looked suspicious. In one of the newer neighborhoods, there was a vacant lot between two other occupied lots. The lots in this area are huge, two or three acres each, so the vacant lot was not close to the houses that flanked it. There was a long stretch of curb along the road adjacent to the lot and in the center of that stretch of curb was a fire hydrant. Sitting next to that fire hydrant was a dog. She was black as pitch and had a medium length, wavey coat. She looked like a black Golden Retriever, or a Flat-Coated Retriever but was obviously a mutt. She had the kindest, chocolate brown eyes and her tail thumped rapidly as I pulled up and rolled down my window. She was sitting next to the fire hydrant, wearing a collar that was way too thin and just barely long enough to buckle. Attached to her collar was a piece of ski-rope, knotted around the collar on one end and trailing, broken, on the other. She appeared thin, but otherwise healthy and she seemed really glad that I stopped, but would not come to the car. I talked to her for a while then went about my business.
I took a break and went to get a bite to eat. Instead of tossing my scraps, I collected them and took them with me. I had decided to check back by and see if the dog was there and if she was truly hungry. She was, on both accounts. She wagged her tail and stood up when she saw the car, but still wouldn't come to the car. It was as if she were tied to the hydrant. She stood excitedly by as I exited the car with my bag of scraps and approached her. She could smell the food but didn't rush forward. I put the scraps on the grass in front of her and she scarfed them in one breath. I called her to come to me but she wouldn't budge. I went back to the car and drove away with her watching until I was out of sight. Several times throughout the night, I checked on her. She was always glad to see me and always riveted to that spot. I began to realize that she had been dropped there and was waiting faithfully for her owners to return.
Once my shift was over, I returned to the dog in my own car. I found her curled up in the grass by the hydrant, asleep. She didn't jump up when I stopped until I spoke to her. She was happy and bouncy at my joke of showing up in another car to fool her. I took her rope in my hand and tried to lead her to my car. Nope. She dug her feet in and refused to leave her hydrant. I had to bodily pick her up and force her into the back seat of my car. She was in panic mode and certain she must stay and wait for her people. She freted and whined all the way home.
I went to the houses in the neighborhood the next day. No one had a dog like that nor knew of anyone in the area that did. I put an ad in the paper. Lost dog with a description, leaving out the one distinguishing trait of her's to verify ownership. She had a tail that looked to be about half as long as it should have been. The ad ran for two weeks and I took exactly two calls. One was a lady that started the conversation by saying, "You have my dog!" I asked her to describe the dog and she repeated her statement. Now, I figured she would describe what I had in the paper, black dog, medium length wavy hair, small white spot on chest. I would then ask what was unusual about her tail. If she could tell me that it was short by half, I would turn over the dog. She became irate and demanded my address so she could come get her dog. I once again asked for a description of the dog and she said it was brown with black and white spots and had short hair. I tried to explain that this was not her dog but she yelled and cursed and I hung up on her. The second call was a man saying that his dog had gone missing from another part of town, but he would just make sure. He described the dog to a T. When asked about the tail, he said the tail was not as long as it should be. I was disappointed, I had already become attached to her and asked, wistfully, what he had called the dog. "Buster" he said. I thought that was odd, but what the heck, I had a female cat named Walter, once. I told him my address and we arranged a time for him to pick her up. I ended the conversation by saying that if she ever had puppies, I would be interested in having one. He said, "My dog is a boy." "Are you sure?" "Of course, I'm sure! If the dog you have is a girl, it's not my dog!" And he hung up.
She was mine. I loved her dearly, but she was clingy. Every time I walked out the door, she tried to put her front legs around my neck and her back legs around my waist. It didn't matter if I had on shorts, uniform, heels and hose, or jeans. She was all over me. I had plans to spend some serious training time on her as soon as I had a day off, but in the meantime, I would carry an umbrella to keep her off of me and would repeat "Get away from me you goofy dog, get away you goofy dog." It stuck, her name was Goofy Dog. It took about an hour to train her not to jump on me. I went outside with long sleeves and jeans and ignored her as I walked out into the back yard. I sat down and she was jumping on my head and back. She stuck feet and legs down my collar and nearly took one ear off. I sat there with my head down until she got tired and sat down for a second. When she was siting next to me, I started talking to her and petting her. She jumped on me again and again, I ignored her. We went through this two or three more times and it suddenly clicked, if she wanted attention, she had to sit quietly. She never jumped on me again. After that day, she would see me come out the back door, she would run wide open and slid to a stop in front of me, quivering and whimpering, but with her butt firmly planted on the ground. I would gently rub her head and across her eyes and she was in heaven.
I have lots of Goofy stories, but I'll save them for another time. She lived with me until she died. I still miss her, she was the best dog her previous owners could have ever had. I was the lucky one.
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My cats have been very curious about the chicks that hatched today. They are making alot of racket in the incubator and they keep coming up to see but I have to chase them off.
Lovely story, thanks Wisher!!
oz, saw those videos on the news..posted the second on fb. That one guy looked so scared, and under they went to their really really safe place in case it ended up being a 7 or higher. I guess it would be scary. Did you feel it?
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