Please Don't Eat Our Best Friends

[Pagafyr]

I have had so many pets I began to find their company was constant whether they were dogs, cats.  My first pet I won by tossing a nickel at a bunch of plates in a game at the Fair Grounds during the carnival and fair week.  Because my nickel landed on a plate I won a little yellow Pekin baby duck.  Several times this Summer I visited the local park pond where Mom took me when it was full grown to release it.  I never thought of the duck as a pet.  Thanks to Mom for making up a scary story so I released it at the city duck pond instead.  Because of her creepy story I didn't realize she was thinking of cooking it for supper.

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15 minutes ago, AlienSlof said:

My daft little cockerpoo is actually a mini poodle - the 'poo' half!

My mother had two poodles, a toy, Precious, and a miniature, Daisy. Daisy was the mother of Precious and had given birth to her when she was around 3 or 4. When Precious arrived, she was the new star of the show. She would get so excited when my mother came home, hearing her car pull up and then immediately run to the door to begin her ecstatic run-around-in-circles-happy-that-Mom's-home routine. It annoys me when folks over-use the term 'super', unnecessarily adding it to everything, but that dog was super happy whenever my mother came home. And she was always either in my Mom's lap or somewhere nearby if Mom wasn't sitting. I remember her as a puppy being small enough to fit right in your hand. She loved those dogs so much and it pained me when Daisy died. She was old, 13-14, smelly and simply died of old age. I forget the exact cause but she had been sickly for awhile with some age related ailment and Mom had been caring for her. My mother had had her since she was a pup too.

Not to leave this post with a downer about death, I'd like to tell you about my neighbor's pit bull, Stain. Since I don't have a dog, I visit my neighbor whenever I need a dog fix. Today was one of those days and I went with a foot long Slim Jim type beef stick in hand. After Stain showed me his latest and greatest squeaky toy, I began breaking off small bits of the stick for his hasty consumption. About half-way through, my neighbor seizes the opportunity to show off one of Stain's tricks. He asks that I hand him the rest, which he breaks in half, and then proceeds to speak to Stain by proposing a deal. With one half in hand, the other still wrapped, he tells Stain, "If you can grab this half from atop your nose, you can have the other half right now. If not, you'll have to wait until later. Deal?" To which Stain replies while sitting by raising his right leg and paw. They shake and my neighbor places the half upon Stain's now level muzzle, instructing him to wait then... get it. And he does! Then my neighbor hands the other half to me. So, now Stain's looking to me to fulfill the deal. But wait! It wasn't my deal. I tell him that he has to do the trick again for me, of which he didn't seemed pleased about. Anyways, I go to place the bit atop his nose and my neighbor instructs me to ensure that Stain's muzzle was level first. Of course, that makes sense. My mistake, it's my first time. As I'm correcting, Stain snatches the remaining half from my fingers. Hah! Touche. I was just doing it to mess with him anyways. He's called Stain because of a dark spot on his muzzle close to the nose area, by the way. He's otherwise tan and white.

[HeyYou]

2 hours ago, UsernameWithA9 said:

My mother had two poodles, a toy, Precious, and a miniature, Daisy. Daisy was the mother of Precious and had given birth to her when she was around 3 or 4. When Precious arrived, she was the new star of the show. She would get so excited when my mother came home, hearing her car pull up and then immediately run to the door to begin her ecstatic run-around-in-circles-happy-that-Mom's-home routine. It annoys me when folks over-use the term 'super', unnecessarily adding it to everything, but that dog was super happy whenever my mother came home. And she was always either in my Mom's lap or somewhere nearby if Mom wasn't sitting. I remember her as a puppy being small enough to fit right in your hand. She loved those dogs so much and it pained me when Daisy died. She was old, 13-14, smelly and simply died of old age. I forget the exact cause but she had been sickly for awhile with some age related ailment and Mom had been caring for her. My mother had had her since she was a pup too.

Not to leave this post with a downer about death, I'd like to tell you about my neighbor's pit bull, Stain. Since I don't have a dog, I visit my neighbor whenever I need a dog fix. Today was one of those days and I went with a foot long Slim Jim type beef stick in hand. After Stain showed me his latest and greatest squeaky toy, I began breaking off small bits of the stick for his hasty consumption. About half-way through, my neighbor seizes the opportunity to show off one of Stain's tricks. He asks that I hand him the rest, which he breaks in half, and then proceeds to speak to Stain by proposing a deal. With one half in hand, the other still wrapped, he tells Stain, "If you can grab this half from atop your nose, you can have the other half right now. If not, you'll have to wait until later. Deal?" To which Stain replies while sitting by raising his right leg and paw. They shake and my neighbor places the half upon Stain's now level muzzle, instructing him to wait then... get it. And he does! Then my neighbor hands the other half to me. So, now Stain's looking to me to fulfill the deal. But wait! It wasn't my deal. I tell him that he has to do the trick again for me, of which he didn't seemed pleased about. Anyways, I go to place the bit atop his nose and my neighbor instructs me to ensure that Stain's muzzle was level first. Of course, that makes sense. My mistake, it's my first time. As I'm correcting, Stain snatches the remaining half from my fingers. Hah! Touche. I was just doing it to mess with him anyways. He's called Stain because of a dark spot on his muzzle close to the nose area, by the way. He's otherwise tan and white.

I think one of best parts of having dogs is, someone is ALWAYS Happy to see you come home. It's like they haven't seen you in ages. Both of mine greet me at the door when I come, whether it be from work, or, like today, coming in from mowing the yard. Sophie isn't quite as exuberant as she once was, but, the mere fact that she will even bother to get up, and greet me, puts a smile on my face.

My parents had a pitbull my younger brother named Buddy.... Everyone is so terrified of them, he didn't need a 'mean' name. And he was exactly that. He loved EVERYBODY. If you petted him, he was your friend, if you FED him, he was your friend forever.

And treats. Yeah, both my dogs know I am a pushover.... If we sit at table for meals, they know to lie down, and wait until we are done, then they get theirs. If I am sitting at my desk, I have a worshiper on each side, because they know I will share. Yes, my dogs know how to eat from a fork, or spoon.... doesn't matter what I am eating, the mere fact that I will share with them makes them ecstatic. 

 

At a previous address, before Sophies time.... We were taking care of a dog for my wifes Nephew, he had had to move, and couldn't have pets at his new residence. That was Razor..... he was pitbull, and something else.... but, lord only knows what the 'else' was. Under normal circumstances, he was a sweet boy, LOVED to play, and would play until he dropped from exhaustion. He was a blast with frisbee... Only problem was, he HATED my wifes eldest son Elmer.... With a passion. I have no idea why. Elmer had never been anything but nice to him, but, Razor just didn't like him. We could always tell when Elmer was on his way over, as Razor would go absolutely NUTS, barking at the door and carryin' on.... and Elmer was probably still a quarter mile away.... it would be five to ten minutes before he actually had it to our driveway..... After the first couple times.... it was decided that Razor needed to go outside when Elmer came over.... Safer for Elmer..... We had him for a few years, until nephew bought himself an old farm, and Razor went back to live with him. Razor lived to a ripe old age, I think he was 17 or 18 when he just didn't wake up one morning.... That was a LONG life for his breed.

At the moment, I am sitting at my desk, just came in from finishing up the yard... Daisy is on my left, thoroughly passed out, Sophie is on my right, in pretty much the same condition. Came in to roll a smoke, and let them out, before I cleaned off the tractor, and put it away. They wandered around outside, came in with me, and that was it. Trying to get up from my desk without running over a dog, is sometimes quite the challenge.

 

Edited August 10 by HeyYou

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1 hour ago, HeyYou said:

My parents had a pitbull my younger brother named Buddy.... Everyone is so terrified of them, he didn't need a 'mean' name.

People fear them because of media, simply put. I don't as I've been around several and only know them to be great around children and loyal to the core. Don't get me wrong, the breed is dangerous if provoked. Say, if you were to come close to the aforementioned children or placed in a fight pit and forced to fight for it's life. Their ferociousness is to be respected. Which I do. I never attempt to pet any dog until I first observe it's body language. The tail will tell you most everything about a dog's general attitude at any point in time. Then, if that all checks out I glance at it's eyes because tail language can be tricky. But the eyes tell all. I don't get many refusals but I have come across a few that I'm happy I didn't approach it like an amateur. I can pick out the biters and most times it's the little ones. That's not a generalization, that's a fact. Some chihuahuas seem to have issues with me. But I've never met a dachshund that didn't like me. I absolutely adore that breed!

Dogs, in general, have an uncanny intuitiveness when it comes to reading people, a lot of it relying upon their sense of smell I've learned. I'd like to reiterate Woodrow Wilson's quote from the initial post here for support, "If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience." With all due respect to your wife's eldest son, I'm not making any empty allegations here but, perhaps you should pass that advice on to Elmer. I can almost guarantee Razor sensed something he didn't like about Elmer. Could have been something minor or major. And when a dog doesn't like you, being nice to it just won't cut it or anything for that matter. Dogs draw a hard line. Although, I will concede that some are easily persuaded momentarily with treats. But once the treat's been consumed, you better have more or you could be next on the menu.

I almost forgot to mention that Tia Torres from Villalobos Rescue Center has been working for years to dispel the myths about pit bulls. I think it's working. Or at least in my general area because I see more and more pits being walked or playing in dog parks when I'm out and about. But this is a very dog friendly city so your mileage may vary. I do know that her rescue has adopted out literally hundreds, perhaps thousands of pits over the years. She's been putting in work for the cause.

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17 hours ago, AlienSlof said:

Some people just suck.

I concur. If you click that link it'll bring you to a partially relevant post from a few months back about my speculations regarding some folk's online activity. Regardless, you echoed my assessment near verbatim.

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7 hours ago, Pagafyr said:

Thanks to Mom for making up a scary story so I released it at the city duck pond instead.

That was probably the best solution anyways. At least it was among friends and well-fed. I'm sure the city had caretakers assigned to feed them. Supplement that with an ample supply of bread crumbs from city park goers plus whatever ducks eat naturally (bugs? beetles?) and I'd say the duck made good despite it's quirky beginning.

[Pagafyr]

12 hours ago, UsernameWithA9 said:

That was probably the best solution anyways. At least it was among friends and well-fed. I'm sure the city had caretakers assigned to feed them. Supplement that with an ample supply of bread crumbs from city park goers plus whatever ducks eat naturally (bugs? beetles?) and I'd say the duck made good despite it's quirky beginning.

I remembered more about that past event.

[Guest deleted156886133]

Okay, some of you won't be surprised by this.

Here are seven quotes regarding dogs by social commentator, wordsmith extraordinaire and guru of critical thinking, George Carlin... and he also liked to tell jokes. Following that is an written excerpt from one of his routines and finally a YouTube link to an early career Carnegie Hall performance. The video runs for 12:04. He veers off into talking about cats around 8 minutes in, which is pretty damned funny too. There's also a modest offing of F-Bombs. It is George Carlin, after all. But if you can endure, you might just find yourself laughing and not give a mother duck about the F-Bombs. There aren't that many. Relax.

• Your dog thinks you're a god. Your cat thinks the dog's an asshole.
• A dog has no shame. If he can do it, you can watch.
• The truth is, Pavlov's dog trained Pavlov to ring his bell just before the dog salivated.
• Meow means woof in cat.
• Dogs lead a nice life. You never see a dog with a wristwatch.
• What do dogs do on their day off? Can't lie around - that's their job!
• Dogs and cats get put to sleep; hogs and cows get slaughtered.

"I love every dog I ever had. In my lifetime, I have had me a bunch of different dogs. Because you do keep getting a new dog don’t you? That’s the whole secret of life. Life... is a series of dogs. It’s true! You just keep getting a new dog, don’t you? That’s what’s good about them. They don’t live too long. Sometimes, you can get a dog that looks exactly like the dog you used to have. Right? You shop around a little bit, and you find a dog identical to your former dog. And that’s real handy cause you don’t have to change the pictures on your mirror or anything. Right? You just bring the dead one into the pet shop. Throw him up on the counter and say, ‘Give me another one of them. That one was real good."

Below is the video link.

George Carlin at Carnegie Hall via YouTube

 

[HeyYou]

Way back when, when I was young.... (yes, dinosaurs roamed the earth then....) I spent a summer with my grandparents, working the farm. It was real work, and at 15.... not something I was used to... So, the occasional trip into town was a real treat. One afternoon, grandpa was at the hardware store, and I was sitting outside, just enjoying the nice weather... and some cops showed up, to visit the diner next to the hardware store..... There was a beautiful german shephard sitting in the back seat of one of the cars, the window was down, so I figgered I would go over and say hi. I approached slowly, and he just kinda looked at me, more bored than anything... he didn't seem disturbed, or nervous... so, held out a hand for him to sniff.... which he did, and gave me a little lick. (taste?) I took that as permission, and started scratching his ears, rubbing his neck, telling him what  a good boy he was, and what a handsome fellow.... and he just closed his eyes, and absorbed the attention quite happily.... I was totally oblivious to the three cops standing ten feet away, with their jaws on the ground..... Grandpa came out then, so I gave doggy another last ear scratch, and started heading toward the truck... One of the cops stopped me, and asked me "How in hell did you do that?" I was thoroughly confused.... Then the cop told me that Rex (the dog) didn't let ANYONE touch him, and barely tolerated his handler, yet I just walked up to him, and spent ten minutes petting/scratching him..... I didn't have an answer for that... told him, "No idea, he just seemed like a nice dog, that would like some attention."

I saw him in town fairly regularly after that, when we went to town anyway. (VERY small burg, blink ONE eye and you would miss it. ) And if he saw me, he give a little bark, and I would have to go over and scratch his ears for a few. I didn't mind, the cops though it was amazing, and the dog loved it.

 

And in response to the post above: Dogs have owners, cats have staff.

 

I loved george carlin. He was awesome.

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12 minutes ago, HeyYou said:

I loved george carlin.

Carlinites worldwide, including myself, share that sentiment. We miss you George. I'm sure you're smiling down upon us right now.