Age: 17 Years Sex: Female Weight: 51-100 lbs
|Home:Allegany Co., NY ||[I have a diary!] |
Leave a bone for MooShu
Nutmeg, Nutcase, Meggie, Meggie Moo, Miss Moo, Smoo, Miss Piggy, Brown dog, Fast forward, Perpetual motion dog, "The Brown One"
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November 9th 1998
I'm a big suck up for a belly rub and I'm persistent, untiring, and absolutely SHAMELESS in the pursuit of them. And don't think you're going to be able to stop once you've started, either.
Thunder/lightening storms send me into hiding and I HATE getting my teeth brushed. That "chicken flavored" toothpaste stuff does NOT taste like any chicken I've ever eaten. I don't get enough chicken to eat, by the way.
Rope bones, because I can whip them back and forth. If I wasn't brown, I'd be black and blue from whacking myself. I used to have a kong on a rope toy too, but there was this problem with stuff getting broken. People are just so anal. And I love BONES!
Peanut butter, eggs, cheese, stuff on the floor, stuff on the ground, stuff in the garbage, stuff all around..."They" give me Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover's Soul though. I can't even read, and I think that's a dumb name for a dog food.
Who cares where? Come on, let's go! Can we go Can We CAN WE? Let's go Let's Go LET'S GO NOW! (Please do NOT say 'walk' unless you intend to take one!)
I can dig a mean hole in the dirt, and I'm very difficult to ignore. I also fart when I climb the stairs. I'm just plain stubborn and I have my own agenda, which most of the time is breaking stuff and sleeping in front of the fire. Are those tricks?
I made myself practically irresistible at the humane society. While I was out of the kennel, I did my best impression of a huggy-cuddly dog and fooled them! I was perfectly courteous, showed off some basic obedience, was cute as h#ll, and dislocated mommy's shoulder when she walked me. Well, not really, but my walking skills weren't really part of my appeal. When I was put back in my wretched chain link kennel, I didn't even jump up on the gate--I just went to the corner and laid down. Playing it cool, you know. Once I got I home though, it became apparent that my cute, huggy-cuddly behavior was really a cover-up for being a terrified bundle of nerves. However nervous I am, I really know how to keep 'em laughing.
I had a limp when I was adopted and x-rays showed that I have hip dysplasia. I don't really limp anymore unless I run too much--after a good run, I get totally lame on the right side. Mom and dad keep me on a leash pretty much all the time so I don't overdo it.
If I keep staring, you WILL pet me!
Tuesday, December 11, 2001
Mom left some sugar-free jelly beans out one day, and I ate A LOT of them. I didn't know this could make me really sick, and I had the squirts for 2 days. Given the chance, I'd eat them all over again so mom's a lot more careful now.
I LOVE CATS! Don't tell the other dogs, but the cats are my friends. We cuddle together and I'm very gentle with them. They never swat at me like they do at Rommel.
Oddest thing that I do:
Lick the carpet. I don't know why, but when I get drowsy, I slowly lick the floor until I fall asleep. I think someone put Valium in those carpet fibers.
Being at the pound really sucked. It's no place for any dog or cat. Please visit shelters and rescues when you want another friend, and only support responsible breeders. Your rescued pet will thank you for it!
I've Been On Dogster Since:
|November 30th 2005
||More than 10 years!
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December 7th 2005 12:09 pm
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When I first came to my new home, it was a long time ago now, but way back then I had some silly behaviors. Even I can't really say why I was such a kook, but then I'm a dog and dogs aren't really known for their insight. Anyway, back to the story---
I was a toy hoarder. I would gather up every toy I could find, carry them over to my pillow, and usually I whined a lot, too. Needless to say, this didn't really earn me any brownie points with the resident dog. In retrospect, I probably should have shared some toys with him, but for some reason, I was oddly compelled to take 43 trips to carry all 43 toys with me every where I went. I couldn't help it.
My humans thought it was a little troublesome that I didn't share: "Hmm. The new bitch is stealing all Rommel's toys," but thought it was a little cute just the same. They'd throw a toy across the room and as I whimpered and promptly trotted over and brought the toy back to my pillow, they'd marvel: "She's goes after things, but why doesn't she bring them back to us? She sucks at this game. Some retriever mix she turned out to be!"
Then one day, the girl human was giving me one of her famous belly rubs when she noticed something odd. "Honey, come look at this--her teats are puffy! Do you think something is wrong?" They both ogled my belly for a while. (I'm okay with that---just keep on rubbin'. )
The boy human, not very experienced in this sort of thing, asked, "Maybe she should have a mammogram or something?" Clearly he was upset as he palpated a little harder. A little light bulb was turning on over the girl human's head though--"Um, you might not want to do that---"
Must be amnesia or something, because I can't remember if I had a litter of puppies before being brought to the pound. Maybe I did, or maybe it was just a strange thing triggered by stress. But those awful humans threw 'my puppies'--all 43 of them--across the room for about 4 days before they wised up about my little imaginary litter.
Of course, like the good dog that I am, I forgave them for it. They know not what they do. Like good humans, they felt very guilty and spoiled me to help me through my rough time. They stopped trying to play fetch with me. I really did suck at it anyhow.
I wasn't preggers for real and was spayed as arranged by the humane society. Now I share all the toys, like the good dog that I am. Happily ever after. Now if I could just fake a little lactation so I could get one of those extra-long belly rubs....
December 3rd 2005 2:39 pm
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Chocolate...garbage...bugs...cat poop...onions...stealing socks...chasing birds...
What do these things have in common? They're all really fun, but whenever I get the chance to experience them, I'm told, "NO!" or "Drop it!" or "Leave it!"
"They" tell me it's for my own good. But is it? Is it really? How could anything so fun be anything but good? Ponder this, doggies--what if they're not protecting us, but keeping all the good stuff for themselves? Think of this, the next time you're on a walk and you come across something really fun or tasty. It might just be a conspiracy...
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