Posted on 12/14/2001 9:13:53 PM PST by mafree
Will Your Dog Vouch For You?
A man wrote a letter to a small hotel in a Midwest town, which he planned to visit on his vacation. He wrote, "I would very much like to bring my dog with me. He is well groomed and very well behaved. Would you be willing to permit me to keep him in my room with me at night?"
An immediate reply came from the hotel owner, who said, "I've been operating this hotel for many years. In all that time, I've never had a dog steal towels, bedclothes, silverware or pictures off the walls. I've never had to evict a dog in the middle of the night for being drunk and disorderly. And I've never had a dog run out on a hotel bill. Yes, indeed, your dog is welcome at my hotel, and if your dog will vouch for you, you're welcome to stay here, too!"
Authors Unknown
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Greyfriars Bobby (http://greyfriarsbobby.co.uk)
In 1858, a man named John Gray was buried in old Greyfriars Churchyard. His grave levelled by the hand of time, and unmarked by any stone, became scarcely discernible; but, although no human interest seemed to attach to it. The sacred spot was not wholly disregarded and forgotten. For fourteen years the dead man's faithful dog kept constant watch and guard over the grave until his own death in 1872. James Brown, the old curator of the burial ground, remembers Gray's funeral, and the dog, a Skye terrier called "Bobby", was, he says, one of the most conspicuous of the mourners. The grave was closed in as usual, and next morning "Bobby", was found, lying on the newly-made mound.
This was an innovation which old James could not permit, for there was an order at the gate stating in the most intelligible characters that dogs were not admitted. "Bobby" was accordingly driven out; but next morning he was there again, and for the second time was discharged. The third morning was cold and wet, and when the old man saw the faithful animal, in spite of all chastisement, still lying shivering on the grave, he took pity on him, and gave him some food. This recognition of his devotion gave "Bobby" the right to make the churchyard his home; and from that time until his own death he never spent a night away from his master's tomb.
Often in bad weather attempts were made to keep him within doors, but by dismal howls he succeeded in making it known that this interference was not agreeable to him, and he was always allowed to have his way. At almost any time during the day he could be seen in or about the churchyard, and no matter how rough the night, nothing could induce him to forsake that hallowed spot, whose identity he so faithfully preserved.
That, however, concludes the story of the life of Greyfriars' Bobby, a life which was later commemorated by the erection of the statue and fountain by Baroness Burdett Coutts. The figure which was unveiled, without any ceremony, on November 15, 1873.
I had a door to door security systems salesman ring the doorbell. When I opened the door, Duke and Mooch were staring him in the eye. His just said: "I guess you're really not interested in a security system and walked off."
You are so right. These dog threads make me want to go down and get one myself.
I hadn't planned to start a dog lovers list but I guess we can. Any other ideas for names?
I don't have an offical list yet but I'll be sure to ping you when I see a dog thread.
Please do- we'd be glad to hear it.
Yeah, they were both friendly males and weighed about 225 and 180 respectively. They ate a lot, drank a lot (they were always eager to share my lunch), and left proof of that all over the neighborhood. I liked to walk them and folks just loved them, especially kids. People would call out compliments out of bus windows, etc. Nobody messed with that place either.
I'll be sure to ping you and will add you to any formal list that starts- I got some names from another dog thread.
My Australian Shephard does do something all the time. He never sleeps. (Just ask my other three dogs)
Turns out he's a stray. So we keep him.
Turns out we moved next to a family (if you could call them that) of redneck cock-fighter and pit-bull breeders who were dirty, foul-mouthed, ignorant drunks, and carried guns to pay a visit....you get the picture.
One day a couple months later, Hannah was attacked by one of the pitbulls. Almost didn't make it. 118 stiches...just horrible. The dogs were horrible...we were afraid to ride our bikes down the road because the dogs would run out snarling and growling, and we had seen what happened to Hannah.
Ok, so a couple months later, on a Sunday, early in the morning, I was out front with the dogs. Hannah and Pogo nosing around in the front yard, when around the corner of the driveway come two snarling pitbulls heading right for Hannah. I got up screaming for my husband (asleep in bed) who came running out with a shovel. Before he could get there, Pogo attacked the dogs...I mean he literally had both of them in the ditch, one was on his back, the other he had by the throat and was thrashing him like a ragdoll. (I have never seen anything like this.) He threw that dog to the side and it went squealing and wimpering back to the hellhole it came from. And then he turned on the other dog. That other dog was a bloody mess and it ran home...I thought for sure it would die. Whew, what a rush. We never had any trouble again with the neighbors or their dogs. Pogo, what a dog.
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie --
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find -- it's your own affair --
But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit hat answered your every mood
Is gone -- wherever it goes -- for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept'em, the more do we grieve;
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long --
So why in -- Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
I wanted to share this poem with you and other dog lovers. This poem always brings tears to my eyes (I lost a very special one after 12 years), but it also reminds me to treasure each moment we have with our loving companions.
Please add me to your list. Thanks. Woof.
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