My dog is grounded.

[shereads]

The conniving little bitch!

 

[Guest]

The conniving little bitch!

Something about the squeaky president's head?

 

[drksideofthemoon]

The conniving little bitch!

Here is my card, I would like to represent the dog, who I might add is innocent under proven guilty...we are considering on filing a counter-suit, based on emotional cruelty, poor choices in doggy treats, and not enough nap time...

 

[Guest]

*snerk*


i with hold judgement until all the facts are present. (though im leaning towards the dogs side since shes got representation.)

 

[lucky-E-leven]

Threaten her with a week of no lawn mowing and tell her the sad ear routine isn't going to work for AT LEAST another hour.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

*snerk*


i with hold judgement until all the facts are present. (though im leaning towards the dogs side since shes got representation.)

I will be filing a writ of habeus poochus momentarily....

 

[MagicaPractica]

Woof! (My dog says she will be a witness for the defense.)

 

[elsol]

Dogs are never innocent until proven guilty.

Dogs are guilty until you can find a different living organism in the house that might things the dinner table legs would make a great snack.

 

[TxRad]

My dog is grounded.

are you expecting electrical storms or that she/he might piddle on a wall socket?

Shocking, just shocking......

 

[bluebell]

Just, weird here.

are you expecting electrical storms or that she/he might piddle on a wall socket?

Heh. You said "piddle".

I see Vella's *snerk* and raise both a *snicker* and a *giggle*
I can only assume that equals a *sniggle*

 

[Matadore]

Dogs are never innocent until proven guilty.

Dogs are guilty until you can find a different living organism in the house that might things the dinner table legs would make a great snack.

Actually, dogs are ALWAYS guilty until proven innocent. They will confess to anything and all you have to do is clear your throat. They will admit being responsible for the holocaust, the deaths of the Kennedys, the sinking of all three ships (Lusitania, Andrea Doria, and the Titanic), both shuttle disasters, the cat poop on the living room carpet, and the tulip bulbs that the squirrels dug up. They will do this while groveling on their stomachs while orbiting the coffee table whimpering about how the are not deserving of your love and attention. They will promise never to displease you again, ever.

So defending them is quite a trick and one who would agree to do so should not to be taken lightly. The are dangerous hired guns indeed!

 

[shereads]

Here I am, the struggling single mom of a 15-year-old girl cocker spaniel. She's just recovered from surgery to remove a suspicious tumor. I wasn't optimistic about a dog this old surviving surgery, but she did, and the tumor tested benign, and all was well. So I bought her some McDonalds fries this afternoon, to celebrate. They're her favorite food. Crumble one or two in her food and she's a happy lifeform.

I gave her a sample fry, left the bag on the counter, ducked back outside to water a couple of wilting plants - and she vanished. Deaf, mostly blind, almost 90 years old in dog years, and limping so badly from arthritis that she's hardly wanted to walk outside to pee for three days, much less walk away from free French fries and DISAPPEAR.

I spent four hours walking, running, and driving through the neighborhood, yelling her name until my throat was hoarse despite knowing that she can only hear the word, "breakfast," spoken directly into her ear from no more than six inches away.

I realize now, of course, that I should have been running up the street screaming, "Breakfast! Breakfast!" But hindsight is useless.

Not only was I searching; no fewer than six strangers who were riding their bikes, two strangers in cars, and one mostly-naked man who lives across the street, but who I've been trying for months to keep on a stranger-basis due to his disturbing tendency to wander about unclothed, holding a tree pruning pole, and grinning...all of these people rushed to my aid, jotted down my phone number, took notes on the dog's favorite streets from her younger days, when we used to take long walks, and went off to search for a small, speckled dog with a yam-shaped noggin. I was scared to death, not only because she's deaf and mostly blind and has no fear of cars, but because she wasn't wearing her collar and tag. For the first time in 15 years, no collar and tag - it had been rubbing against the surgical incision, and I hadn't planned on losiing the dog, so no tag.

I found her in the last place I looked.



Inside a chain-link fence at a school, far enough from my house that it's clear the dog's been faking arthritis in preparation for today's Great Escape.

The kids could tell by her panic that she was lost, and kept her safe from traffic inside the fence on the unlikely chance that I'd wind up looking for her there. (I'm grateful they didn't try to grab her, so she didn't bite one of them. Deaf, blind dogs think everyone who approaches them has ambushed them, for nefarious purposes.)

One boy said, as I raced from my car to the schoolyard to retrieve the poor lost beast, "Hey, this is a Kodak moment."

Yes, it was. Thank you, unknown boy.

Thank you, God or whatever power protects the dumb and helpless. And our dogs.

"Get that camera out of my face."

http://files.photojerk.com/shereads/Hatespapparazzi-01.jpg

 

[Guest]

Hugs to the pooch, mama shereads.

Glad she's safe at home.

 

[shereads]

Actually, dogs are ALWAYS guilty until proven innocent. They will confess to anything and all you have to do is clear your throat. They will admit being responsible for the holocaust, the deaths of the Kennedys, the sinking of all three ships (Lusitania, Andrea Doria, and the Titanic), both shuttle disasters, the cat poop on the living room carpet, and the tulip bulbs that the squirrels dug up. They will do this while groveling on their stomachs while orbiting the coffee table whimpering about how the are not deserving of your love and attention. They will promise never to displease you again, ever.

You haven't met my dog. She's a non-groveler. I think she has a special exemption from groveling, on religious grounds.

"I left. I'm back. Get over it....Zzzz."

http://files.photojerk.com/shereads/Alfalfafriend.jpg

 

[Matadore]

I am so glad that you found her well and safe. We have gone through that drill twice (two different elderly dogs) and it's not at all pleasant.

Still, I maintain that they are guilty until proven innocent even in their dotage...they just don't give a damn about the consequences after about age 12.

Their attitude seems to be, "Oh yeah I did that, but there isn't anything that left that you can threaten me with any more...just kill me and get it over with. If you aren't going to do me that favor, then how about some breakfast?"

 

[OneLustyWench]

Have to laugh, because my dog will take himself for a walk around the neighborhood. Fully ignoring our calls until he has visited all the other yards and pets.

Then comes back and will be sitting at the back door waiting for us to open it for him to get a treat.

 

[shereads]

Have to laugh, because my dog will take himself for a walk around the neighborhood. Fully ignoring our calls until he has visited all the other yards and pets.

Then comes back and will be sitting at the back door waiting for us to open it for him to get a treat.

At our local dog park, a routine visitor is a basset hound named Elvis who escapes from his yard no more than once a week, comes directly to the dog park, waits to be let inside the gate, then lies down to wait for his owner to find him and take him home.

"That's Ambassador Elvis to you," says my dog.

They're up to something, I tell you. And they are not from this planet.

Matadore, my dog has been copping this get-a-life attitude since the day I brought her home. She was 7 weeks old. Played coy while I was selecting a puppy from the litter, and was quiet as a mouse all the way home in the car. Once inside my apartment, she attached her razor-sharp puppy teeth to my ankle, then laid down some ground rules:

"Stock up on toilet paper, because I plan to race through the house with the end of the roll in my mouth until it's completely unwound or you've popped an artery, whichever comes first, as often as I feel like it. I'll also untie a lot of shoelaces, and destroy any hardcover books you leave unprotected. Whatever your previous experience with puppies, it no longer applies. There is nothing you can say or do that will hurt my feelings. The more upset you become, the funnier it will be. We are legion. Kill the priest! What times is lunch?"

 

[drksideofthemoon]

At our local dog park, a routine visitor is a basset hound named Elvis who escapes from his yard no more than once a week, comes directly to the dog park, waits to be let inside the gate, then lies down to wait for his owner to find him and take him home.

"That's Ambassador Elvis to you," says my dog.

They're up to something, I tell you. And they are not from this planet.

Matadore, my dog has been copping this get-a-life attitude since the day I brought her home. She was 7 weeks old. Played coy while I was selecting a puppy from the litter, and was quiet as a mouse all the way home in the car. Once inside my apartment, she attached her razor-sharp puppy teeth to my ankle, then laid down some ground rules:

"Stock up on toilet paper, because I plan to race through the house with the end of the roll in my mouth until it's completely unwound or you've popped an artery, whichever comes first, as often as I feel like it. I'll also untie a lot of shoelaces, and destroy any hardcover books you leave unprotected. Whatever your previous experience with puppies, it no longer applies. There is nothing you can say or do that will hurt my feelings. The more upset you become, the funnier it will be. We are legion. Kill the priest! What times is lunch?"

I'm just glad you found your dog...

 

[lucky-E-leven]

My guess is that she talked the vet into giving her a few extra pain pills and was high at the time of said vanishing and fry abandonment.