REMEMBER YOUR VOTE DOES NOT COUNT IF YOU DON'T VOTE FOR 3 STORIES!!! (Am I yelling??? Soooorrryyyyyyyy!!!)
NEWS FLASH!!
I suck!!! I missed a story in my spamblocker at 10:08 last night. SO SORRY!!!! It's Story #7.
Ok. I have my entries. The submission of stories was under-whelming, but I have them nevertheless.
I decided since several people wrote more than one story I picked my favorite (as I said I would) but I also am going to have more than 5 entries because I appreciate the effort. Several of them were sweet. But the authors warned me of that, and I might have whined a little bit, so they just wrote something to get in the contest. Smart people!! I told you! You could of won a free portrait and you didn't have to make me pee in my pants laugh!!!
You have til noon Thurs Oct.14th to cast your votes. I will calculate and announce the 3 winners Friday. Are you excited???????? I am. AND......you can vote for yourself. One time. But, you can beg and pled to have your friends vote for your story. What a deal. REMEMBER, also to vote for your 1st, 2nd & 3rd place favorites. There are 3 prizes!!!! If you don't your vote will not be counted.
You can vote thru the "comments" section after the post, or send me an email, but remember to put in the subject line something so I recognize you thru spamblocker.
Here we go!!
- Story #1 submitted by Daryl Baucum.
Last weekend, I was in Modesto at a Connected Riding workshop. Just before going up there, I got an e-mail from someone from Norcal Aussie Rescue asking if I could provide transportation to a rescue dog from Sacramento to LA to return it to the breeder after the workshop was over. I responded that since I hadn't gotten my car back from the shop like I expected, I was going to have to rent a car and wasn't going to Sacramento and would have a very small window of time to do a transfer when I got back to LA and so it seemed too complicated all around and so I gave my apologies.
Then once I got to the workshop, I was asked if they could get the dog to the workshop just before I left, would I be willing to take it, that the breeder would meet me anywhere at anytime. So not having any better excuse than he would all over my rental car, I agreed.
He showed up and was a quite sweet, very loving dog, but also understandably upset and a bit on the skittish side of the spectrum. The first four hours of the drive back, he spent in the back seat hoping I wouldn't notice him. Then I stopped below the grapevine at the Laval exit with all the fast food places and got a double-double from In 'N Out burger to go. When I got back to the car, he had moved to the front seat and seemed ready to let me take him for a walk. So we moseyed over to the field next to the big parking lot and he did his business and then we shared my burger. After that, he sat in the front seat for the rest of the way home.
And as you might guess, he's been by my side pretty much ever since, which is I guess six days now. So Jen and I are the owners of a two-year-old, red sable English Shepard that is settling in a little more every day and showing us a bit more of his personality every day, too. He's quite a sweetie. And I don't know how he ended up at aussie rescue, either. Maybe it was the only way to get to me. Who knows about these things.
And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
(Awwwhhhhh....)
- Story # 2 Submitted by Marilyn Lindauer
Are Doggy Lifejackets Fashion or Functional?
I had the most beautiful sheltie, which I named “Lassie”. I wanted a collie my whole life. When I first met Lassie, I thought she was a collie puppy. I knew nothing about shelties or collies. There she was wrestling with a silky terrier and holding it down by the ear! It was love at first sight! The minute she was in my arms I knew she was coming home with me!
The entire time we had Lassie, she was greatly cherished. She was my everything! We got another sheltie, by the name of “Teddy”. He was a tri-perfectly-marked sheltie and every inch of him was “macho-man”! Teddy was an excellent obedience dog but a pain in the butt to walk! It was so embarrassing to walk with him by anyone else’s dog. He always behaved like a “Dr. Jekyll”!
Anyway, my husband, Lloyd, and I had a beautiful sailboat that we took to Catalina on most weekends. We would always go into boat supply stores looking for all the boat stuff you don’t really need but you would like. If you have horses, it’s the same when you go to a feed store! You enter it with one thing in mind but find a bunch of other stuff you talk yourself into!
One day, we were cruising through this Boatworks supply store when we spied the cutest little doggie lifejackets! We looked at each other and said, “These could really come in handy when we are sailing with the dogs.” So we bought two of them.
From that day on, we would put these vests on the dogs whenever we went on the boat. I gotta tell you, we got a ration of shit from everyone who saw our dogs wearing these vests. People would laugh and say “how cute” they were in their little sailor outfits! It really made us feel pretty silly for making our dogs wear them but we did anyway.
One day, while coming home from Catalina, we began taking down the sails as we entered King Harbor in Redondo Beach. As we started to collect the sails, my husband looked around the boat and proceeded to ask that dreaded question…’Where’s Lassie?” We had a full load on board, family members plus Lassie and Teddy. Teddy was in the cockpit (looking pretty impassive) but Lassie was nowhere on board! This event occurred on an extraordinarily beautifully clear, fairly calm summer day. You can never know how impossible a task it seems when you are trying to locate a little sheltie with a white lifejacket in the vast ocean! It was overwhelming!
My husband, keeping his cool, turned the boat around, passed out binoculars and proceeded to direct everyone on board to look for ANYTHING in the water and stay focused! Everyone was frantic but kept their cool. Teddy was cool too…not sure if the little bugger pushed her overboard. After all, there was a underlying rivalry between the two. Lassie seemed to get that extra special treatment. Who knows what’s in a sheltie’s mind?
We searched for probably twenty minutes before my stepdaughter, Lisa, noticed a spec of something in the water. She called out and was directed to keep her eye on it no matter what! We followed Lisa’s direction, piloting the boat towards the Redondo Beach shoreline and there was Lassie, just like in the movies, paddling towards the shore! Ready to take a wave and save herself…since no one else was going to do it for her!
As we neared her location, everyone on the boat started screaming her name to get her attention. That little sheltie wonder dog, who had fallen off the boat (and no one heard it), saw her people leaving her, unnoticed in the water, paddled in the water for probably thirty to forty minutes, was smart enough to find the shore and was following it to safety, turned when she heard our voices and started paddling towards our boat! I cannot imagine how she was brave enough to swim towards (not away) from a 36 foot sailboat barreling towards her, but she did! WHAT A DOG!!! Thanks to the funny little lifejacket and probably the will of a little sheltie that was probably just itching on getting her little paws on her “pal” Teddy, who pushed her over! Payback is a bitch and that’s what she was. Poor Teddy, never saw it coming!
(That's pretty amazing!!)
- Story #3 Submitted by Donna Mickelson
A very, very stormy rainy day, about 4pm, I pull into Safeway after doing daily chores at the barn. I am cold and wet and need to grab a few things for dinner. The Safeway in Cameron Park has an entrance that plops you in right between a Starbucks Cafe and the deli. Lovely aromas abound. On this day, I enter and employees and patrons are fumbling around, distancing themselves from a distraught and weary looking pit bull. He had wandered in to escape the down pour. No one was going near him...not that he was threatening in any way....but he is a dreaded pit. He obviously felt the eyes upon him and knew he needed to make an exit asap...but first, most importantly, he reaaallllly needed to PPOOOOP. With a worried look, and wobley squat he chose a spot right next to the roast beef and evacuated his bowels. Ahhhhhh the relief. And out he went. The courtesy clerks were scattering with "I am not cleaning that up!" I couldn't stop laughing. When I was done shopping, walking out to the truck, there he was as innocent as pie, sitting in the back of his jeep. He looked very comfy, happy and sweet as can be.
(Ok, I am never going into that Safeway again.Where's your photo Donna???)
- Story #4 Submitted by Julie Sandoval
I own a mobile grooming company. I had just hired a new brusher/ bather to go out on my route with me. We pull up to the house and I tell her to get the dog and take it to the van and start grooming her while I talk with the owner. She says OK.
We go into the house and I am talking with the owner who lives in a two story house that has two sets of stairs leading from the living room to the bedrooms upstairs. The owners back is to the dog who just ran up the left set of stairs. I am facing the whole scene. So this is what I see.
Dog runs up left set of stairs. Bather goes up left set of stairs to catch dog. Dog quickly runs down right set of stairs.... followed by bather. Dog then scurries up the left set of stairs........ONE BIG CIRCLE...... Over and over and over ..... The owner is oblivious to the shenanigans of her cute little dog. After about 10 mins. and a great workout for the bather I say " shut the bedroom door". I had the hardest time not busting up laughing watching this as I continued to talk with the smart little dogs owner.
(I know this "brusher/bather". She's a real blonde.)
- Story # 5 Submitted by Sharon Samuelson
Anyway, the story was my nieces were over and wanted to have a birthday party. So they dressed up my patient, sweet Tara (as you see in the picture). Then they proceeded to dress up Clancy (our orange tabby - also very patient). And Clancy had a dress, wig & hat on . Well, when they brought Clancy out, he took one look at Tara and literally jumped out of his dress, wig and hat!! It may not seem too funny, but if you had been there it was hysterical. That's it & that's what the first picture goes with..
(Are all of us guilty of this??? And, it sounds like the cat is the smart one!!!)
- Story #6 Submitted by Daneen Fox
My Pomeranian, Chopper, was the worlds most clever sneak when it came to food. One day at an agility trial while I was walking a course and a fellow exhibitor who was also walking the course, nonchalantley asked me " Hey Daneen, Is Chopper supposed to be eating a WHOLE bag of Nutter Butter's?" I said "NO" and ran to my set up..... Where I found Chopper had scooted his ex-pen over 2 feet closer to the grocery store bag and pulled the entire bag through the ex- pen bars and as soon as he saw me started gobbling the Nutter Butter's as fast as he could..... Needless to say he wasn't very fast in his runs that day..... OH and speaking of runs..... Not so good later that night :(
(Chopper looks like Count Dracula in this photo.Or, he was getting ready to hurl Nutter Butters!)
- Story #7 Submitted by Tia Carlson
WHY MY DOG FLUNKED OBEDIENCE SCHOOL
AND OTHER TUFFY TALES
Eight years ago, a friend got a female puppy, for free. It was cute, small and short-haired. She mentioned that there were a few more in the litter available. Now I know why.
I asked my husband to go pick out a "free" male puppy. When he returned, I couldn't help but notice that the dog was twice the size of his sister and had LONG hair. I said: "That dog is twice the size of his sister and has LONG hair."
My son, Michael, then three, promptly named him Tuffy, and I was stuck with a "German Shepherd-Rottweiler-Something with long hair but the vet can't pin it down exactly" mix. I took Tuffy to the veterinarian for shots and other things that cost an arm and a leg but you must have because if you refuse you are branded as an irresponsible pet owner unfit to walk the face of the Earth.
The first vet visit Tuffy weighed nine pounds. Three weeks later, he had shot up to 18. Three weeks later, he tipped the scales at 27 pounds. I'm no dummy. It didn't take me long to calculate that every time I took him to the vet he gained exactly nine pounds. I quit taking him to the vet.
On that third visit, however, I did mention to the vet that Tuffy seemed to be getting a bit large for his age and that his sister was not nearly as big and also had SHORT hair, hair that does not forever become a part of your carpeting and make your life a living, vacuuming hell. She said that lady dogs can have a litter sired by more than one dog, and that is probably what happened. I was incredulous. Here I was talking to a medical professional and she's portraying my dog's own mother in less than flattering terms. Naturally, I took offense. I told her that I was sure Tuffy's mother was not that sort of woman. Though I had never met her, I was certain Tuffy's mom was of sound moral character.
Tuffy continued to put on the weight and soon showed a natural talent for digging up the backyard lawn and chewing patio furniture. I got rid of the lawn, put in a cement patio and a huge deck at the cost of $4,600.00. My "free" dog had now turned into a monthly payment of $236.18 at 14 percent interest.
When Tuffy got too big to lift, my life became a series of daily annoyances. He took the notion of "member of the family" to the extreme. He would not leave the house of his own volition, or mine. When I would grab my purse or car keys, he would immediately lie flat on his back and refuse to move.
I would say, "Outside." I would say, "OUTSIDE, NOW!" Sometimes I was even reduced to asking, "Please?" Nothing. Nada. Here I was with a 118 pound dog who was determined not to budge.
It became a game of wits. Each day, I allotted extra time to try to get him outside. The only way I could get him outside was to catch him either sitting or standing, sneak up on him from behind, grab him under his front paws, sort of the equivalent of the human underarm, and walk him out on his hind legs.
The only problem was that he had a sixth sense and could tell that I was stalking him. Oh, I tried to make it look innocent, just going about my business, but somehow he knew. Tuffy would immediately assume the "I'M FLAT ON MY BACK AND YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY LIFT ME SO DON'T EVEN TRY IT!" position.
I took to waving luncheon meats over his nose, trying to entice him outside. He would turn his head and mock me. I tried frying link sausage, thinking the smell would overcome him and he'd take the bait and go outside. No dice. Once, I even offered an expensive pate I was saving for my husband. Nope. No sale.
My son and I eventually developed a S.W.A.T.-like commando routine. Michael would hide in the hallway while I tested the waters. I would walk into the family room where Tuffy was usually sleeping. I'd glance at him to see what position he was in, and whether I could take him out right then. Usually not.
Careful to avoid eye contact, I would go into the kitchen and pretend to do something innocuous, like washing a dish or drinking a glass of water. I would try to view him without being obvious. Tuffy would look up at me as if to say, "If you think I'm staying outside all by myself, you're sadly mistaken."
I would rush back to the hallway. "HE'S ON TO US; HE'S ON TO US!" I'd hiss at Michael. We would huddle in the hallway, peeking out into the family room when we thought it was safe. As soon as Tuffy got off his back, I'd issue the order: "IT'S A GO; LET'S MOVE!" Michael knew the drill. He would race to the sliding glass door and fling it open, while I lunged at Tuffy before he could get on his back. The look on Tuffy's face always reminded me of those drug dealers you see on T.V. when the D.E.A. storms in. But Tuffy, like the dealers, was not going without a fight. He and I would flail about on the floor, him desperately trying to get on his back and me trying to thwart that effort. It was akin to wrestling an alligator.
Clearly, the dog needed discipline. I enrolled him in an obedience class. Each Tuesday we would attend school, and Tuffy and I would diligently practice our assignments the rest of the week. He proved to be a quick study. He could heel, sit, stay and do other basic commands. Nothing fancy, but a start.
The other dogs, however, seemed to excel at all facets of the training. I was amazed at their progress. They could fetch, sit, stand, roll over, come, go, make quiche, etc. I think I even saw one dog reading during a break.
These dogs were purebreds, apparently Mayflower descendants, and proud of it. They were nothing more than a collective pack of snobs. They shunned Tuffy, and their owners didn't appear so keen on me.
At the end of eight weeks, the two instructors informed me that Tuffy would not be issued a diploma and would not be graduating with his class. I was dumbfounded. I admitted that Tuffy sometimes acted like a goofball at class but insisted it was the presence of the other dogs that caused this behavior. I said we had done all of the assignments, and he had achieved exactly what I had expected of him.
Their response: "We cannot have our school's reputation marred by giving your dog a diploma. He is welcome to repeat the course, but he is not be anywhere near here during the graduation ceremony."
Suddenly, and without prior warning, I became an indignant, canine stage mother. "NO DOG OF MINE IS FLUNKING OUT OF OBEDIENCE SCHOOL, AND, AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED, THE OTHER DOGS ARE ALL A BUNCH OF POMPOUS, PUREBRED BROWN-NOSERS!" (I meant that last part literally).
Alas, they were not swayed by this carefully thought out argument, and Tuffy and I, tails between our legs, slinked away, diploma-less, degree-less and dejected.
I bought him an ice cream cone on the way home. Two scoops. He's still the best dog I've ever had.
