YOUR DOGS, CATS & Other Domestic Fauna - Cute, sad, buff or silly

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Meet Church. He came with the name. His AKC lineage are all named after horror movies and he was named Church after the cat of the same name & color in Stephen King's Pet Semetary. He was our replacement pup after our rescue Boston Terrier died at 13. Church healed our hearts and his Mid misses him oh so much!
 
Speaking of missing Mids...our jemma missed our older mid when he would leave. But she would snuggle up (spooned, as a body pillow) with our high school senior.

Poor thing. They are both gone now. She hasn’t been to the basement (their man cave) in months. And she insists on sleeping on the hard tile floor, at the front door. Breaks my heart to think what must be going through her dog mind 😞. Waiting 24/7 for them. Or thinking she is abandoned. DH and I don’t cut it for her. We are trying!
 
Capt MJ said:
Real men love poodles who wear pink accessories.
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True story ... after graduation, got married,, went through NFO training,..and once we finally settled down at NAS Brunswick, ME, I started to get the hankering for a dog. DW was a little reluctant, thinking it would tie us down. She relented shortly after DD#1 was born ...and the search was on.

Both of us were Labrador people, DW's dad raised and trained them, , but she wanted something smaller since we lived in a smaller condo. That said, after looking a variety of puppies, we decided that a calm Lab was better than a hyper small dog. One of my squadron mates had bred his Lab, so we went "just to see" one Sunday morning. Well, the "just see" resulted in coming home with a puppy ... we were totally unprepared, no collar, leash, bowls, crate (the most important part of having a puppy). We had just enough time to pick a name "Puffin" (after an Icelandic bird )--and create a box bed for her before I left that evening for a week long detachment. I missed the first night whining, and when I got home a week later, she was renamed to Paget (a parish/county in Bermuda), and she had the cutest hot pink collar . (Pink on coal black is really cool looking).
 
My oldest DD's puppy when she was about 3 - 4 months old. She fell off the bed and broke her knee. Surprising, to this day (8 years later) she does not seem to have any problems with it.
 

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Old Navy BGO said:
True story ... after graduation, got married,, went through NFO training,..and once we finally settled down at NAS Brunswick, ME, I started to get the hankering for a dog. DW was a little reluctant, thinking it would tie us down. She relented shortly after DD#1 was born ...and the search was on.

Both of us were Labrador people, DW's dad raised and trained them, , but she wanted something smaller since we lived in a smaller condo. That said, after looking a variety of puppies, we decided that a calm Lab was better than a hyper small dog. One of my squadron mates had bred his Lab, so we went "just to see" one Sunday morning. Well, the "just see" resulted in coming home with a puppy ... we were totally unprepared, no collar, leash, bowls, crate (the most important part of having a puppy). We had just enough time to pick a name "Puffin" (after an Icelandic bird )--and create a box bed for her before I left that evening for a week long detachment. I missed the first night whining, and when I got home a week later, she was renamed to Paget (a parish/county in Bermuda), and she had the cutest hot pink collar . (Pink on coal black is really cool looking).
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I worked for an author that loved to hunt dove and quail. He had setters from the same line for decades. Then he got turned on to Scottish Labs (I had never heard of them). I loved that little dog. Small, smart, stubborn and all the heart of a full size traditional lab. She was one heck of a bird dog, and had her own place on the Italian Leather sofa.
 
kinnem said:
@QA1517 That's a lot of dog!
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Our first Mastiff was named Cleo after the poodle on Clifford the Big Red Dog. She weighed btwn 160 and 165. When she passed away it was 3 years before I could get another dog. Felt like I was betraying her.

Penny (named after the Big Bang Theory character) is taller and longer, and more lazy.
My wife trained both of them, did an excellent job.
 
I house sat for a Neapolitan mastiff when I was stationed in - of course - Naples. I loved that big old guy but not his saliva. His name was Pinocchio, Nocchi (Nokie) for short. Boxers are related to mastiffs, and share a bit of that tendency.

What the Boxers R and M (red brindle, seal brindle) are doing now, at least three times a day, floor wrestling which then goes to a chase game or boxing session, then another nap before dinner:


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This is our cat, Weasley, the original grumpy cat, who kept a diary of his captivity on and off for many years as a way to ruminate on methods of escape as well as comment on our unfathomable dimness. I would often send entries to "the boy" while he was away at boarding school and, later, USMA. Weasley's observations were a favorite of his company. Here are a few entries:

Day 1,827 of my captivity
The house is quiet with the boy off at camp. I can sit on the window seat in his room undisturbed except for that rotten stuffed cat who thinks he owns the boy's bed. He swiped at me the other day and has no idea that I could rip him to shreds with my hind claws and bite his stuffed head off with my lion-like teeth. In fact, I think I will do that. Right after I finish staring out the shutters at the insane little dog who is doing his business on the fake front lawn. The man and the woman hate this but can't figure out who is doing it or how to stop it. I keep telling them, but they never listen. The woman just says Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Who can understand this?

Day 1,828 of my captivity
The woman's crazy music is driving me nuts. I think it drives the man nuts, too, and that is why he is away so much. I don't mind the man. He is kind of furry, so I think he may be a relative. The woman stares at paper a lot and refuses to brush me as often as I require. So I drop balls of fur on her carpet and sit on her paper which causes her to say, Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. She is dim. Perhaps I will rip her to shreds with my hind feet, too. Oh wait, she is petting me. Ahhhh. I especially like the chin rub. I will wait and destroy her tomorrow.

…

Day 2,192 of my captivity
Spent the night prowling for bugs. There never are any. Bugs fear me and stay away. Jumped up on the bed and poked at the woman during the night. She does not move. I can't reach the boy at night as he is behind a door. He doesn't open the door until mid-day, and then he comes looking for me. He will never find me. I am clever. Eventually, he provokes the monsters in the box on the wall. They will never go away if he does this. The monsters only stay in the box because they fear me. The boy does not understand this.

Day 2,193 of my captivity
The boy chases me around the house with a long, pointy noisemaker. I run under the bed as he is too tall to go there, but he lurks. I run to other places, but he continues to chase. Who can understand this behavior? Eventually he tires and turns on the big box where the monsters live. He is in danger. I will bite the monsters and rip them to shreds with my hind feet if they ever venture outside of the box. The boy should not provoke them.

(…as our son left for boarding school)

Day 2,194 of my captivity
I sleep and keep watch from the top of the dining room buffet. They do not see me here, but I see all they do. In my sleep, I plan my escape. I have abandonded the suitcase plan. They keep removing me. I don't understand why this works for the boy's stuffed animals and not for me. I lay just as still, but they they always discover me. Oddly, there are no stuffed animals this time. They now live in a box on a shelf in the boy's room. They do not understand that this box never leaves. They are very dim. I am pretty sure the bear made his escape in a large box that left the house last week. I must think about how he pulled this off.

Day 2,196 of my captivity
The boy has been sleeping on the couch lately, in the same room with the monster box. They don’t appear if he is not staring at the box. I keep watch, nonetheless. Monsters are crafty.

(…when DS returned on a break)

Day 2,544 of my captivity
The boy has returned!!!! The bear has returned!!!! The man and the woman are crazy happy. What is this? I thought they had escaped forever. The boy must have left in search of the bear and found him. I knew the bear was dim. He must not have hidden himself very well. The boy is always victorious. He has been gone long enough to grow as tall as the man. This makes the woman sad. She thought the boy would stay small. She is dim.

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The diary continued until Weasley was 14, and we had to make the hard decision to put him down due to kidney disease during our son's Cow year. He got a final FaceTime with his beloved pet. I think it was the first time he'd cried in years.

Thank you for making me go back and relive some of these memories. And thanks to @Capt MJ for the link to the "Henri, Le Chat Noir” videos. I loved every one of them. Weasley was not so sophisticated.
 
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