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?"