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Pets

   

   Two buddies were out for a Saturday stroll. One had a Doberman and the other had a Chihuahua. As they sauntered down the street, the guy with the Doberman said to his friend, "Let's go over to that bar and get something to drink." The guy with the Chihuahua said, "We can't go in there. We've got dogs with us." The one with the Doberman said, "Just follow my lead." They walked over to the bar and the guy with the Doberman put on a pair of dark glasses and started to walk into the bar.
   The bouncer at the door said, "Sorry, Mac, no pets allowed." The man with the Doberman said, "You don't understand. This is my Seeing-Eye dog." The bouncer said, "A Doberman pinscher?" The man said, "Yes, they're using them now. They're very good."  The bouncer said, "OK then, come on in."  The buddy with the Chihuahua figured he'd try it too so he put on a pair of dark glasses and started to walk into the bar. He knew his story would be a bit more unbelievable. 
   Once again the bouncer said, "Sorry, pal, no pets allowed." The man with the Chihuahua said, "You don't understand. This is my Seeing-Eye dog." The bouncer said, "A Chihuahua?" The man with the Chihuahua said, "A Chihuahua?!? A Chihuahua?!? They gave me a damn Chihuahua??


   A young boy, about eight years old, was at the corner "Mom & Pop" grocery picking out a pretty good size box of laundry detergent. The grocer walked over, and, trying to be friendly, asked the boy if he had a lot of laundry to do. "Oh, no laundry," the boy said, "I'm going to wash my dog." "But you shouldn't use this to wash your dog. It's very powerful and if you wash your dog in this, he'll get sick.  In fact, it might even kill him. "But the boy was not to be stopped and carried the detergent to the counter and paid for it, even as the grocer still tried to talk him out of washing his dog. 
   About a week later the boy was back in the store to buy some candy.  The grocer asked the boy how his dog was doing. "Oh, he died," the  boy said. The grocer, trying not to be an I-told-you-so, said he was sorry the dog died but added, "I tried to tell you not to use that detergent on your dog." "
   Well," the boy replied, "I don't think it was the detergent that killed him." "Oh?  What was it then?" "I think it was the spin cycle!" 


   A lady and her dog were enjoying a stroll in the park when her dog was mounted from behind by a large Rottweiler. The Rot was really humping away and the lady was frantically trying to break them up, to no avail.
   A small boy walked up and stuck his finger in the Rots butt, and the action immediately stopped.
   The lady was amazed. "How did you do that?" she asked.
   The little boy said, "That's my dog!  He can dish it out, but he can't take it!"


Please forward to cat lovers everywhere who, like myself, are very concerned about kitty hygiene.

1. Thoroughly clean the toilet.

2. Add the required amount of shampoo to the toilet water, and have both lids lifted.

3. Obtain the cat and soothe him while you carry him to the bathroom.

4. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close the lid. (You may need to stand on the lid so he can not escape.) CAUTION: Do not get any part of your body too close to the edge, as his paws will be reaching for anything they can find.

5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power wash and rinse" which I have found to be quite effective.

6. Have someone open the door to the outside and ensure that there are no people between the toilet and the outside door.

7. Stand behind the toilet as much as you can and quickly lift both lids.

8. The now - clean cat will rocket out of the toilet and run outside, where he will dry himself.

Sincerely,
The Dog


One Man's Story .....

   Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
   The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Ed! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it." "You know where the button is," I protested through the shower's pitter-patter. "Reset it yourself!" "I am scared!" She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" (Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second."  
   So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. 
   Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner. 
   Wild animals are sometime faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome.  Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed.  It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold. When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter.
   At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk.  "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" If they had only known.


While I was waiting my turn at the veterinarian's office, a woman came in holding a large cat. "Do you really want to have Mitzie de-clawed?" asked the young receptionist. "Shhhh!" the woman said as she hastily covered the cat's ears. "I told her she was coming in for a manicure."


I got my strangest job from a man who was taking care of a puppy for a journalist friend on assignment overseas. He came to me with the dog in one hand and a tape recorder in the other. He told me that the usually docile puppy cried, soiled the carpets, chewed furniture and tore pillows to shreds in its new home, and he had been at a loss to understand why. That is, until he talked to a veterinarian. The doctor explained that the puppy was upset because it missed the constant clatter of the journalist's typewriter. I was hired to tape-record two hours of continuous typing, to be played for the puppy whenever it got restless. It worked.


Last summer I worked in a pet shop. At the end of an extremely busy Saturday, I noticed a boy, not more than five years old, with his nose pressed against a glass cage gazing intently at a pair of six week-old collie pups. "May I help you?" I asked. Turning to look up at me, he answered with a sigh in his voice, "No, just wishing, thanks...."


RODNEY DANGERFIELD says, "I figured I'd try to meet girls by walking my dog.  It didn't work.  My dog was too smart.  He was using me to meet other dogs."


   A huge truck driver is sitting at a bar having a drink when this little pip-squeak of a guy walks in and asks who owns the pit bull outside.
   The truck driver hollers "It's MY dog!  What's it to you!"  The little runt says, "Nothing, but I think my dog just killed yours. . ."  
   The truck driver jumps up and says "WHAT!  What kind of dog do you have anyway?"  The other guy replies "A toy poodle."   "A poodle!" the truck driver yells. "How in the hell can a poodle kill a pit bull?!"  
   "Well," replied the little guy, "I think he choked on it."


VETERINARIAN Louis J. Camuti used to recall one of his more unusual house calls: My client, Mrs. Rouben Mamoulian, wife of the stage and screen director, lived a life of luxury. Her cat, however, was an ordinary gray tabby named Dinah. Or so I thought. Actually, I found out Dinah was the cat's meow when Mrs. Mamoulian one day asked, "Would you like to see her wardrobe?"  She led the way to a room dominated by a large French armoire. Holding up several tiny outfits, she asked, "Aren't they fine?"  "But your cat wasn't wearing anything when I saw her just now." Mrs. Mamoulian looked at me as if I were an idiot. "No, of course not. The cat is not going anywhere."  She went on pulling out more cat-size garments: gowns, petticoats, a cape. "It's incredible," I exclaimed. "These clothes look tailor made."  "Well, of course they are," she replied, giving me a scorching look. "How else could we get a decent fit?"


I ALWAYS suspected that our dog was not well behaved during his infrequent grooming sessions at the canine beauty parlor. My hunch was confirmed when I picked him up and overheard one of the groomers say, "Forget the bow on that one, Myrtle. If anyone deserves a ribbon, I do."


My friend Sally had taken a temporary job helping in the pet supplies department of a large store. Her first customer wanted a coat for her dog but was very vague about the size. Soon the entire stock of dog-coats was piled on the counter, but the customer could not decide on one.  Worried at the prospect of losing the sale, Sally suggested that the woman bring her dog in to try on the coats. "Oh, I couldn't do that," said the customer reproachfully. "It's for his birthday and I want it to be a surprise."


It was late at night when our car, loaded with four children and the family dog, reached the regional park. We were dismayed to read a NO DOGS ALLOWED sign, but at that hour, we decided to go in anyway. Five days passed quickly, and we were able to keep the dog out of sight on our large campsite.  As we packed to go home, our dog bounded away. Oh, no, I thought, now we're in for it. But as he approached the neighbouring campsites, we could hear a whole chorus of barking.


Our normally sweet Great Dane, Bonnie, has one quirk that we can't explain: She hates package — delivery drivers in their brown uniforms. One day I let Bonnie out of the car just as a luckless delivery man walked around the corner of a building. Grabbing her collar, I struggled to keep hold as Bonnie lunged at the visibly shaken man. Trying to ease the situation, I said, "As you can see, she just loves delivery men!"  "Don't you feed her anything else?" he responded.


My full-grown and willful German-shepherd mix, Trevor, was having a tough time of it in obedience class. A trainer insisted on holding his leash while I walked off to call him. "Other wise he'll chase another dog instead of going to you," she stated.  I told Trevor to "stay" and went the required distance. "Come!"  I said firmly.  Trevor did — with gusto. The trainer kept up with him for a few paces and then fell face first on the wet grass.   An undaunted Trevor dragged her right up to my feet.  Slowly the trainer picked herself up and looked into my stricken face. "Don't forget to praise your dog," she said.  And walked off.


Our constant struggle with our teenage son to clean his room was resolved by our dog, an English setter, who had received a large rawhide bone in her Christmas stocking. With obvious enthusiasm she chewed, paced, gnawed and paced some more. Since the weather prevented us from letting her outside, she appeared frustrated when it came time to bury it. Pacing the living room, she stopped suddenly, cocked her head at an angle and raced upstairs. Curious, we followed. We found her in our son's messy room with a contented look and no bone!


At a variety store I overheard this conversation between a husband and wife who were obviously re-thinking their Christmas list.  "We've bought her a couple of gifts, but do you think she will have enough?"   "Well, I sure don't want her to feel left out."  "Maybe we should just forget it."  "No. I want to buy her just one more. Which do you think she'd rather have a new collar or one of these chewy bones?"


One evening my dog greeted me with a powdery white face. Looking around, I found an empty pill bottle on the floor, and immediately called the poison hot line. "My dog just ate a large number of antacid tablets. What should I do?" I asked anxiously.  After consulting with colleagues, the doctor on duty said, with a chuckle, "We feel the best thing you can do for your dog is to take him out for some Mexican food."


My large, grey poodle was constantly being told to remain on his mat, on the other side of the room, while the family ate dinner. No matter how many times he was told, he'd often try to sneak over to us only to be sent back.  One evening as we ate, Oscar suddenly appeared at the table. This time, however, he had anticipated our command to return to his mat — he brought it with him.


During a long flight delay at an airport, my friend decided that her new puppy, which had been sitting quietly on her lap, needed to get some exercise. She put him down and began walking. The excited puppy ran round and round her feet, yapping constantly. Another passenger watched the puppy circle. Looking at my friend, he calmly asked: "And just how often do you have to change the batteries?"


When his dog had nine puppies, our rector put an announcement in the church newsletter: "We can offer a wide choice of colour, style and size.   The mother is a German shepherd, and the father is a 'traveling man.' The asking price is $20.  Monies will go into a fund for a good purpose."  Curious, I asked the rector, "What is the good purpose?"  "To ensure that this is the last time we can make this unique opportunity available to you," he replied.


Father is an easy going man who loves children and animals, and has never been able to discipline either. When the most recent in a series of badly behaved family dogs died, Mother insisted our new puppy would have to go to obedience school.  On the third day of class, Dad and Mitzi returned early.  Sheepishly, Dad handed Mother this note from the instructor:  "Please send Mitzi back with someone else."


An advertisement in our local newspaper read: "Boyfriend wanted for female Siamese cat. Object: Kittens. Terms negotiable."  Since I had a male Siamese, I called the party. The woman offered $ 10 an hour as a stud fee.  I said, "You mean if it takes three hours, I'll get thirty dollars?" The woman answered, "Yes."  Then I asked, "Suppose it takes six hours. Will I get sixty dollars?"  After a long pause, the woman asked, "Just how old is your cat?"


I was given a kitten by a co-worker, and we went to a snack bar to find a box for the trip home. One labeled "Chocolate Raisins" seemed perfect. I put my new pet in it, loosely fastened the top and headed for the building elevator.  A young Marine in full dress uniform — obviously about to go on duty somewhere — entered the elevator with me. To my embarrassment, the kitten began trying to get out of its box, scratching and mewing furiously.  The Marine stood ramrod straight, looking neither to the right nor left. "Ma'am," he stated, "your raisins are trying to escape."


Shortly before she was due to have her puppies, my friend's dog wandered off into the woods. After searching for two days, we found her and her newborn offspring under a bush - right beside a sign which read: "Please take your litter home."


While driving through a southern U.S. resort area last winter, I stopped at a gas station. The tourist season was in full swing and the place was busy - and in the center of all the activity was a fellow with a bent coat hanger desperately trying to unlock his car door. Although his motor was still running, the doors were all locked. As I pulled alongside him I noticed a rather large dog sitting in the front seat. Unable to resist, I yelled to the fellow, "Say!  Too bad that's not Lassie. She'd have your door open in a jiffy."  "Listen, wise guy," came the reply. "Lassie wouldn't have locked the door in the first place."


There is a great rivalry among our three dogs, and Sugar, the oldest, has developed an effective ploy to get the favorite snoozing spot. When one of the others is lying where she wants to be, Sugar will trot to the back door and give a series of small woofs. Zaabo and Dilly are instantly at her side to see what the commotion is about. Still barking, Sugar then slowly backs away and ensconces herself in the desired spot. I always marveled that the other two dogs never seemed to catch on to this old trick.  One evening I was relaxing in front of the fireplace when once again Sugar started her little ruse. Minutes passed and Sugar was still yapping at the door, the others howling along with her. Thinking that for once her cry of "Wolf!" was real, I got up myself and stepped out the back door to investigate. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I returned to the living room, only to find Sugar curled up snugly in my chair.


A friend of mine was glad when her neighbor announced that he was taking his dog to obedience school. The dog was unruly and in need of discipline. But a few minutes later she saw his car return. Her neighbor got out of the car carrying the dog in his arms, both of them looking woebegone. My friend rushed out to ask what had happened. "He doesn't want to go," her neighbor announced sadly.


When my friend lost her dog, she called the canine control center to ask if they had him. She described the dog as a short-haired terrier, 17 inches high at shoulder, right side of head and face white, left side brown.  Right side of body white, left side brown with two white patches, short white tail.  She was then asked, "What distinguishing marks does he have?"


When I was a small boy, I begged my father to let me have a puppy. He finally gave in, saying, "Okay, son, but you must understand that we will only take her on a trial basis, and if she doesn't work out, back she goes."   Many years have gone by, and now my dog is very old. One day, as my father and the old dog walked across the yard together, I was touched to hear him say quietly to her, "Remember, you're only here on a trial basis."


To test her new electric toaster, my friend put it on the kitchen table, inserted a slice of bread and left the room. When she returned a few minutes later, the slice had vanished. Mystified, she repeated the procedure - and this time came back to see the toast shoot into the air and descend straight into the waiting jaws of her appreciative boxer.


ONE woman in our tour group was a strict vegetarian. When she talked about her cat, though, she admitted that she fed her pampered pet expensive canned meats. "Why is it all right for your cat to eat meat if it isn't for you?" I finally asked her.  "My cat and I don't have the same beliefs," she replied.


My seven-year-old nephew, Danny, took his dog Barney on a "take your pet to school" day. There were prizes for the smallest, the prettiest, the cutest, and the smartest pet. Determined that his dog should win a prize, Danny put him through a whole range of tricks. Finally Danny asked, "Barney, how much is two plus two minus four?" The dog sat and remained silent. "Right!" beamed Danny. Barney won first prize.


My wife and I stood surrounded by a large assortment of carpet samples that a sales lady had brought to our home. Despite her patient suggestions, we were not sure which would be the most suitable for our family room. As we continued to stare, our old cat strolled into the room. She took in the display, walked up to a swatch, settled herself comfortably upon it and began to purr.  Our decision was immediate and unanimous.


We were moving, and my sons and I crowded into the cab of our rented six-meter-long truck. There was no room left for our enormous black Great Dane. Whimsically, we put him in the driver's seat of the pickup we were towing.  On the road, there was a sudden eruption of noise. We looked back to see the Dane's huge paws resting on the horn while he howled in protest. As I was about to pull over, another car came alongside.  "Hey, lady!" the driver yelled. "Why don't you let him pass?"
   

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Last updated May 19, 2008 by Becquet's Custom Programming