He identified a job to keep himself occupied, to improve the breed.
He was a great dog though.
Posted on 05/07/2011 11:18:51 PM PDT by Abakumov
Working through contacts I managed to land an interview with the military working dog that accompanied the special operations forces during the raid on Osama bin Laden. The ground rules were that I could not mention his name or handler, but he told me to call him “Geronimo” because, as he explained, “Dogs appreciate irony.”
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtontimes.com ...
military working dogs are serving all over the world, detecting IEDs
Reminded me of something a woman I know said during dinner a few weeks ago.
She said...Those Army dogs have such a good sense of smell they can sniff out the location of those IUD's
Refraining from blurting out the obvious sarcastic remark was one of the hardest things I have ever done :-)
Scuse me ma’am you mean IEDs?
Reminds me of the time the secretary of our church a bit too hurriedly typed up the overhead projector transparencies for a Christmas program. Fortunately the typo was caught at the rehearsal when we got ready to sing “All hail the power of Jesus’ name; let angels prostate fall.” (One of our deacons snarked that we needed some cranberry juice.)
I have always kept at least 2 mutts. The happiest dog is a dog with a job.
Just put down a 12 year boarder collie. Bastard child gave me 24 stitches and a scar for life a few years back.
Smarter than some of my friends he was.
He identified a job to keep himself occupied, to improve the breed.
He was a great dog though.
My dog saved my bacon,so to speak.
I was driving late at night and in a hurry,with a beer in hand and the dog next to me. All at once the dog stood up and focused on something ahead.
I got off the gas and on the brake in time to miss a herd of deer crossing the road.
Men have been breeding dogs to be perfect companions for thousands of years. We’re close to the point we’re ready to splice their brain DNA into the body of a woman.
The Stepford Bitches.
Jerk.
Reminds of a great true story from the employer I retired from. When I first got there I was involved in writing a legal memo on the sale of surplus wrenches. After much review it got released and discussed the sale of surplus “wenches.” Furtunately, given our sexual harrassment policies, few of us, except my secretary and I, spotted it. The two of us had a great laugh over it.
I could smell smoke and knew that something was on fire. My dog was going crazy outside the back door. I let him in. “Where’s the fire boy?”, I asked him. “Roof! Roof!” he said. I ran out and looked at the roof. There was a squirrel. The house burned down. He came up afterwards and put his head on my knee. He said, “Guess it was the ceiling. Does our insurance cover my chew toy?”
What you said.
Only ate one or two of them, but always the old ones.
The one we just put down became psychotic over the lack of activity. It tried to heard cats, and patrolled the yard like a security guard on the look out for squirrels and opossum.
I kind of miss him, but he killed every thing that he could... I baited a few skunks and had hin take them out. Big mistake.
Mr. Mercat manages our rentals and works on our little farm. Our two dogs are always with him. They are sure that they are an essential part of the team. I guess they are.
Wish it was possible for me to post pictures of the daily puppy/kitten pile on my wife.
She has two puppies and two cats squirming on her at this moment. They stay off of me, as they dislike getting flicked off the big bed. We just sent off a feral russian blue we civilized to adoption.
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