My dog growing up (Benji - a springer spaniel/Labrador cross) was a veritable treasure trove of stories but his finest hour came when my eldest brother started to get serious with one of his girlfriends. He made a big hullabaloo about inviting her parents round to meet the family. We invited them round for a nice big fancy Sunday lunch. We all got dressed up in our Sunday best and just before they were due to arrive I was told to give the dog a walk.

Benji however didn't want to go for a walk. In fact he was looking a bit down and poorly. I literally had to drag him Ghandi-dog style downstairs where he went straight to the nearest lamppost and did the most horrific and disgusting shit I have ever seen an animal take. Imagine a sick water buffalo taking a diarrheatic crap and that should give you some idea of what I was forced to witness. His arse was just covered in a weird greeny/brown shit stain and I had to use a piece of newspaper to sort of wipe the excess away. I took him upstairs where my mother took one look and just said “BATH.”

Any dog owner will know that those words will automatically make a dog sit and dig his paws in so my mum, in the knowledge that important guests were arriving any second, unceremoniously grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him(whimpering) into the bathroom with a loud squeal caused by the shit on his arse squeaking on the floor and leaving a 6 foot long shit stain on the varnished oak wood floors that we had in our corridor. It's at this point that our guests arrived and my brother unknowingly opened the door. The guests were greeted by the sight of what looked like some sort of shit demon had been killed in our hallway and then dragged into the bathroom for disposal. My mother turned up several minutes later looking very disheveled in her best dress and jewellery with a slight pong hanging over her having done the world's fastest dog wash ever.

For those of you who are wondering we took Benji to the vet the next morning where we found that he had food poisoning from something he ate. He was soon fine.

I had a schipperke we trained not to bark, or so we thought.

We live in a two-story townhouse. If my wife and I were downstairs we let her bark at the bedroom window, but she rarely wanted to be in a different room than us, so we thought of “no barking” as an overall rule.

One weekend morning we were still in bed when our dog saw a squirrel outside. She was at the window getting more and more agitated, but she knew the no barking rule.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, she ran across the bedroom door threshold to the hallway, barked twice, and ran back to the window.

She knew:

• the rule was really “no barking in the room mom and dad are in”
• what the definition of a room is

I am owned by a large Ragdoll cat named Jax. He is, by far, the most clever cat I’ve met. Most of the time.

One day, I opened the front door to refill the bird feeders. (Jax always escorts me outside; I won’t let him out unsupervised; but if there is an chore outdoors, Jax comes along to help.)

That particular morning, there were 4 deer in the middle of the yard. Jax spied them and immediately crouched, and did the “butt wiggle” that cats do when they are about to attack. Before I could stop him, Jax charged the deer with all the bluster and speed he had in him. He leaped off the outdoor staircase and tried to attack the herd! I was scared he’d get kicked or trampled, but there was nothing I could do.

3 of the deer had no reaction; they continued their browsing. The deer in the lead gave Jax the most casual of glances before returning to what ever he was eating. They made no move to retreat.

I have never seen such an embarrassed cat! Poor Jax! He didn’t know what to do. He looked around, then tried scratching and grooming himself in a nonchalant manner. It was as if to say: “I was just heading outside when I had this terrible itch; I should really lick this fur, too; what deer? Where?”

When my mother died, my sister wanted to have her mean male pomeranian, Darby, put down. But, this dog took a liking to me, so rather than allowing him to be euthanized, I took him home.

For some unknown reason, this dog hated most people other than me, which meant he hated my husband. My husband found Darby's antics rather humorous.

By far, the funniest thing he would do is scratch our bedroom door to be let in at night. When I would open the door, he'd come sauntering in like he owned the place, but if my husband opened the door he wouldn't come in the room. We would routinely laugh at him for this, we could even close the door on him when he refused to come in, and if I went over and opened the door, instead of my husband, then he would come in.

One night, we thought it would be funny if we tricked him into coming into the bedroom when my husband opened the door. When he scratched, my husband opened the door, and because the door opened inward, my husband stood behind the door as it opened, so Darby couldn't see who was opening the door.

Per his usual demeanor, Darby sashayed in and laid down next to me on the bed. But as he saw my husband come out from behind the door, you could almost see his bristling dismay at having been fooled. We both had a good laugh about it, and decided that from now on, when my husband opened the door, he'd always just stand behind it, then Darby would come in.

But, Darby had other plans. The next night, when he scratched, my husband stood behind the door, and opened it, but Darby didn't just saunter into the room. Instead, Darby walked in the room, looked around behind the door to see who was opening the door for him, and when he saw it was my husband, he hurried back out.

We tried a few more times to get him to unwittingly come into the room for my husband, but he always checked behind the door. We even thought we might fool him by mixing it up, and sometimes I would stand behind the door while opening it, but he ALWAYS checked behind the door.

Darby died of a malignant tumor in his mouth in 2012, but we never forget how smart he was. He was, perhaps, the smartest dog we've ever owned, and we've owned many dogs.

She took her habit of Grey squirrel hunting a step further, before my eyes for a second time. Prior to those. I´d only ever seen her hunt them on the ground. Or jumping and snatching them when they froze clinging to the bark on her blind side… She would creep up to the tree slowly, then on reaching it, very rapidly around the other side and snatch it from the tree… This time, though she jumped onto a low bough and on upward after it, from bough to bough, it went into the thinner branches and twigs that couldnt support her. and jumped to safety in the neighbouring tree

So the squirrel escaped her. And can be seen below her in the fork of the neighbouring tree it jumped to also.

Yet a Red squirrels for some reason are an entirely different matter … Ive seen her walk up to a Red Squirrel and simply sniff and walk away…. A Grey one for her is a very different matter though sadly….

And I have no Idea why!

Mr. Chips exhumed a squished, sun dried roadkill turkey vulture pancake he had brought back from the “big road” 1.2 miles from the farm and ate it while I watched.

I had buried the nasty thing when he brought it home the day before. Next morning, we both headed out to play in the woods, & while I was loading tools & warming up the tractor, here comes Chippers, vultures ass gripped firmly in his mouth and the wings dragging the ground, grinnin’ like a mule eatin’ thistles.

He drops it, spends about 10 minutes rolling around on it, then commences gnawing contentedly while I looked on in slightly nauseated fascination. I will never unhear the bones crunching & crackling, snapping & popping as he consumed the whole thing, feathers and all. He was so happy I couldn’t bear to steal it from him again.

Took him close to an hour to munch up his rancid treat. Needless to say, Chippies did not sleep in the house until the vulture remains had passed through his digestive tract, (don’t ask, that was a sight I’d rather forget), & I had bathed him twice.

Mr. Chip was a very good boy, but made a few questionable dietary decisions.

My puppy is extremely food motivated, and it’s often funny to observe the amount of effort she puts into trying to get more food than I give her. This is probably a corgi thing, as they’re famous for always acting hungry.

One of her favorite targets is the treat bowl, which is literally a bowl where we’re keeping handy for “emergencies” like unexpected training sessions, or having to lure her or reward her. We were initially keeping it on the side of a coffee table, so it was pretty funny when she grew tall enough and we found her with her face in the bowl.

We moved the bowl to the center of the table and it wasn’t a problem for the next few weeks, though she was often trying to reach it. As a corgi, she probably won’t ever be tall enough to reach the middle of the table… That is, while her legs are still on the ground, because one day we’ve found her sitting on the coffee table peacefully emptying the bowl. I wish I had a more clear picture, but I was too busy laughing.

We’ve finally gave up on ever putting anything that might interest her on the coffee table and moved the bowl to a much taller table. We thought the story was over, we had a good laugh when seeing her on the table, but it wasn’t the end of it. We also happen to have a wheeled shoe rack and she managed to get it next to the tall table, climb it then reach the treat bowl. We let her finish it, because she totally deserved it!

(Photo: kbelectricpa.com)

(Photo: zooawesome.com)

I came home from work one day and my cockapoo dog Ginger acted like she couldn’t wait to get inside the house with me.

Once we entered through the back door, I immediately detected a terrible odor. I had no idea where the odor came from.

Ginger tried to get behind a piece of furniture, so I moved it.

Ginger showed me that there was a dead mouse, with its head sticking out from the corner of a broken electrical outlet.

If it weren’t for Ginger, no telling how long it would have taken me to find the source of the odor.

Most insane thing my dog ever did was actually out of fear. We had gone on vacation for July 4 and my neighbor was waching my dogs and cats. They left for the fireworks show leaving my 130lb. Lab/Shepard mix out in the yard with the other two dogs. Well Dazy was afraid of loud noises, I'd asked that she be put in the basement bedroom, my friend, juggling her youngsters merely forgot. Dazy then tore iron bars off of a ground level basement window, she broke the glass and window frame getting inside where she dropped 5 feet onto the washing machine and her weight destroyed it. From there she tore through a piece of drywall, tore out insulation, broke a 2x4 inside the wall to get at the other piece of drywall and bust through that. From there all she had to do was get through a closed and locked door. When we returned home early the next morning Dazy was laying on our bed, looking not too pleased with us. I could not belive what she had done to get into the house. The power and strength this dog used, she tore off iron security bars, busted thru a window, ate and clawed thru an enitre wall and took out an oak security door, well half was still hanging from the top hinge. She was the bestest best girl I have ever been blessed to have in my life. Here's to you my Daze, my protector and best friend. See you at the Bridge.

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My devil of a cat has done many crazy things.

1. She has bitten through every phone charger wire I have ever owned.
2. She will climb up my leg if she is hungry while I am in the middle of feeding my newborn.
3. She will walk on my face when I am sleeping and be very angry with me if I push her off the bed.
4. She will shred up paper and bite other wires in the house if she is not fed when she wants to eat.
5. She will throw up on the carpet after I feed her once she has finished harassing me for an hour to eat.
6. She attacks the other cats and bullies them if they're too close.
7. She jumps on the table and counters every day no matter how many times I tell her no.
8. If a door is closed and she wants to get into a room, she will claw the the floor and door until it is opened.
9. Before I moved in with my Fiance, she would only drink water directly from the kitchen faucet. (Yes it was her cat not mine)

It wasn't exactly my cat - it belonged to a friend of mine. This friend was my boyfriend's sister. He's no longer my boyfriend, thank God - but I remained good friends with her for a while. Now on to the story.

We were living together, the three of us - we shared groceries and most things. She worked part time with one of their aunts - when things started to go south, he had lost his job and stayed home most of the time.

Now, I was studying for my Master's Degree at the time and, for a while, held a job at a call center to make ends meet. So, I spent most of the time out and about, and still I would get home and find him and his sister bickering about some random ass s**t. I get it, things were rough - obviously, two part time jobs couldn't pay for the living expenses of three people under the same roof.

But it got to a point where it was maddening. They would scream at each other for what seemed like hours. I stayed out of it. I didn't think it was my place to meddle with family issues. But, apparently, I wasn't the only one who was a bit “uncomfortable” with the constant arguing.

We had two cats, a male and a female. Now, you might not believe it - it seemed really weird for me before I started noticing how often the cats would “fall” from our window (we lived in the 3rd floor).

I think the cats were trying to escape the yelling.

Now, I know this sounds crazy. But each cat fell at least two times from the kitchen window in a few weeks’ span. What the actual hell? Cats can fall on accident, obviously. But so often? And I was home one of the times it happened. I didn't even hear a sound before the cat (that time, it was the male) landed on the ground with a thud.

I ran to the window and there he was, still silent, with a bloody nose. He wasn't meowing for help. He was just there, walking in circles.

Now if someone has an explanation for this, I'd really like to know if this is normal. Every time we would go and ask the ground floor neighbor for help, he would give us the cat back, we'd go to the vet and the cats would recover.

I hope someone else has those cats now, if they are still alive. That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen a cat do - and I've had a few cats at home…

Incident 1:

When I was studying, I used to go to my aunt's home during the holidays. One day, I was watching tv alone at her home. There is a door right next to the television stand.

Suddenly I noticed that the door was slightly moving. And I thought It was due to air. Again the door started to move. I was frightened.

And atlast a white head ! Yes a white little head popped up through the door gap. I screamed and started to jump on the sofa. Yes, it was a cat who cautiously came to drink milk . I thought it was a ghost. :-p

Incident 2:

At grandpa’s home, ( My dad and my brother came to visit them and were about to leave)

Dad: Lets go sridhar(bro), it is getting late.

My darling dog who was sitting, suddenly got up and clasped my dad's leg.

Everyone was surprised and laughed at his behavior.

Incident 3:

If I say “bye” and leave him, He will bark continuously until I say, “it's ok,I am not going” ,then only he will stop barking.

I tapped a video on it. I love to watch it. He is just amazing like I mentioned in my earlier post.

Incident 4:

Again my dog…

He usually wakes up at 6 am and sleeps at sharp 9pm on his cot. He always used to sit under the chair or the bed where I used to sit or sleep. One day I woke up at 8.30am and went to take my brush. Suddenly he ran towards the bush. I smelled something fishy. Then I went to the bush. He was holding my sandals in his mouth.

If something is missing, we always search for it in that bush. Because it’s his secret place. :-p

My best friend from college was visiting me after we graduated and I moved to Minnesota. I had had Adam for about 6 months by that time and we were living in a 750 square foot apartment.

It was 11 o’clock at night. We were sitting in the living room on the one of the couches talking and Adam had tucked himself into bed hours ago.

All of a sudden we hear a “Crash!” and Adam comes flying full speed into the living room, jumps on the other couch with a mischievous look in his eyes. Then he notices us, relaxes his face and puts his head down like “what? everything is normal here.”

We went to investigate but everything was in the same place and to this day, we have no idea what the noise we heard was or what sort of mischief he had gotten into, but the look of him trying to play it cool is still something we laugh about.

My sister had a

And he was all black. And not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Like Staffies are not my favourite dogs. They slobber everywhere. They are lovely and loving dogs but…

My sisters dog, Frog, would, daily, take a seat, as only a Staffies can, under the clothesline in the backyard. (I had to end that sentence, my phone was running out of commas.)

Frog would then proceed to lick himself to… well… climax is the only way I can put it.

The dog slurped itself off, every morning, without fail, sitting, as only Staffies can, under the clothesline in the backyard.

Staffies are not know for being particularly bright dogs. Loving and slobber, yes. Smart? Not so much.

So the funny bit was, whenever Frog blew his load in his own face each morning… he looked genuinely surprised!

One night, when I had my cat Grigor, some friends and I were sitting around, watching TV, and having some drinks. Grigor was going from lap to lap, mooching petting and cocktail weiners. I was in my recliner, and on the table next to my chair, I had a pack of cigarettes, one laying about halfway out.

Grigor came over, and I thought he was going to beg or steal another lil’ weiner. No, he decided to take my damned pack of smoke, leaving only the one that fell out, running away as fast as he could to the kitchen. We scrambled to get a camera, but he was gone.

He went and hid some damned where. It was about an hour before he came out. sans cigarettes. Smug doesn’t begin to describe his attitude. I looked thru the house for that pack of smokes, and I mean looked. No where. No paper, no tobacco, no filters, nada. I don’t know what he did with them. Asshole.

Listen if my dog said something. Anything at all I would likely be the one who is crazy.

That said I don’t own a dog. But I’ve taken care of dogs and they were mostly well behaved. Craziest thing they have ever done was getting hurt from running into things. Basically getting the zoomies and being unable to control themselves. Sometimes even jumping into the lake and getting all dirty forcing me have to bathe him/her. I was like “You can’t come into my house covered in filth from the muddy lake.”

Since I’m not the owner I struggled to teach myself how to clean a dog spur of the moment in my backyard. I was like am I even doing this right? “I know you don’t like this bath. Maybe I’m doing it wrong. But don’t get upset at me you were the one who jumped in the muddy water in the first place you silly boy.” lol Except it’s not difficult to clean a dog so I managed.

I wouldn’t say my Silky Terrier would do crazy things but she sure did smart things. I have 7 dogs and if there was no room on the sofa for her, she would slowly trot toward the doggie door and start barking. After all the other dogs would pass her and run out the door, she would jump up on the sofa.

She also had a special bark for when she wanted something. Anytime I heard that bark, I knew to check and see what it is she wanted. She loved to play with socks and if there would be a sock on top of the washer or dryer, she would sit there looking at the sock with that bark. We had a wicker basket full of doggie toys and at times she would sit at the basket and use her special bark. That meant she wanted a certain toy. One at a time I would take a toy out and give it to her. As I would give her the toys, she would drop every one of them until I gave her the one she wanted. She would then happily trot away and play with her toy.

Perhaps not the craziest thing but we’ll get to that in a short moment.

The day the dog jumped into the pond and paddled around an island for over two and one half hours chasing ducks, which needless to say, he never caught.

When, eventually he had had enough, he made his way to shore and lay gasping for breath on the grassy slope. He could not walk, could not even stand upright; his legs gave way under him. I carried him to the car; the foul-smelling mud from the pond on his fur caking my clothes.

I hosed him down, needing to turn him from his prone position on his left side, to a prone position on his right, because his legs would still not support his weight. I dried him off and he lay, almost comatose in the hallway. He did not stir, neither eating nor drinking, until it was time for his ‘walk’ in the park the following afternoon. He was reluctant. I ‘dragged’ him all the same and let him off the leash as was his wont.

He made a bee-line for the pond.

How crazy is that!

Yes, he chased ducks for another two hours, despite what it had cost him the previous day. He never once lost his ‘joy’ in chasing ducks in the pond, no matter what it cost him; he must have remembered.

Eventually, however reluctant I might have felt, I had to restrain him. He was never ‘unleashed’ again. Obviously, for the dog, the ‘pleasure’ outweighed the ‘pain’ but he was ‘getting on a bit’ and I didn’t want to risk a heart attack or a stroke (for the dog) because he couldn’t curtail his ‘urges’.

I have a large labradoodle called Scooter, who is really good at jumping.
I sat at a table in the park, opposite a beautiful young woman in a bright red dress, when I saw Scooter walk out of the lake - completely covered in black mud, so I yelled at him.

I guess that made him think, that I wanted him to come to me right away, so he ran towards us, jumped over the bench, I sat on, and landed on the table. But his paws were wet, so he slipped right into the arms of the woman, with a frontleg on each side of her neck, and made a complete mess of her and her dress.

When she left to get a shover, I noticed mud on her fronthead and even inside her ears. And of course her dress was not red any more.

Here’s a picture of Scooter. I didn’t dare take a picture of the woman.

And here is another, so you can see, how he normally looks. He jumps onto stones, trees, anything, if he can.

The nicest, friendliest dog, I have ever had.

Our dog is 10 years old now, very sweet tempered, and cute. He’s extremely popular in the neighborhood. People come out of their houses to get puppy kisses from him when my husband takes him out for his evening constitutionals. But we had issues early on in our relationship with this dog.

He was very destructive, and he is also highly intelligent with a rebellious streak. He tore the veneer off of an interior wood door, made mincemeat of mini blinds on a French door, and he ate linoleum. Yes, he did. He ate linoleum. We watched him carefully until we were sure he pooped it all out, which he did, but the first three years with him were no picnic. Our family room will never be the same. About the time we weren’t sure we could take anymore, he straightened up for the most part. It’s like he knew he’d pushed us to our limit and he decided to back off. He’s very cute. Cute absolutely counts. We still have minor issues, but nothing like before.

We insanely thought we knew about dogs, because we had one before (a Cairn Terrier) and she was perfectly housebroken at a young age and had very few behavioral issues. We understand now that we know nothing.

Exhibit A:

When I had my adorable Springer Spaniel 'Tracer', we tied her up outside the shop. This was years ago before dogs got regularly stolen. All of a sudden we heard much clattering and banging from the entrance door and realised that she had tried to follow us in there, dragging the Icecream sign I had tied her to! We managed to stop her about halfway up the shop aisle……

And then there is Mabel. She lets you know if she's done something naughty…..

My father used to have a gorgeous lurcher and he took her everywhere with him. One day, we went to a pub in Wales and my father asked if it was ok to bring the dog in, to which the landlord replied that it was fine, as long as we stayed out of the lounge where they were serving food. We found a couple of seats by the fire and the dog lay there soaking up the heat.

As we sat there supping a pint, the dog rolled onto her back, stretched out and let out the biggest fart I have ever heard from an animal! It was so loud that people in the lounge heard it as there was a couple of guffaws and some people at the bar were laughing, with exception of the landlord.

He was fuming. he looked at us and my dad slowly pointed and said “It was the dog” to the sound of more laughter. The landlord just shook his head and said “That’s right, blame it on the dog” but he wasn’t joking and didn’t see the funny side of it.

As I’m writing this, I am grinning like an idiot. I guess you had to be there but it was so funny.

I’ve got freakiest thing.

Before I moved out of Georgia, I fed the half dozen stray cats that lived in the neighbourhood, so they moved under my house in the crawlspace. No issue for me, kept vermin and snakes away, right? I’d take them for their shots and to get fixed at the cattery and bring them back so they’re happy. One night, most of the cats are playing in the yard with my dogs when I hear this godsawful screeching coming from the woods on the outskirts of the neighbourhood and I do a quick headcount of the cats and my dogs and only one of the cats is missing (Shadow), so I send my dogs inside because the woods has a family of bobcats in it and I’m not letting my dogs tussle with that mess for nothing. The dogs go in and my 10-year-old cat who’s pretty much indoors unless he’s sitting on the porch watching the dogs comes racing outside and climbs up on the roof with the strays. And I see Shadow come streaking out of the woods, followed by something big. All I could see was blurry images because I’m blind as a bat without my glasses on and it’s was about 75 yards away and I really didn’t want to know what sort of death was coming for me at that time, but the rest of the cats jump off the roof and race to meet Shadow and the mystery thing. Shadow turns around and starts running at the thing followed by my 10-year-old cat that has never hunted a damned thing before in his life and the rest of the stray contingent. That’s seven cats going after this thing that’s around the size of one of my Australian Shepherd-Labs, goodbye, my furry friends. They go into the woods, more noise and my dogs are on the porch wanting to disobey me and investigate but knowing rules are rules, do not leave that porch once I give the command or no Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (judge me), my neighbours are outside and we’re all just WTFing, my neighbour’s son is all set to go in there and shoot it because if it’s making that much noise with the cats, it ain’t friendly. And then. All seven cats come out dragging this thing STILL STRUGGLING AND WHINING and they drag that damned thing still alive all the way to my house and to the crawlspace door and those damned cats I had been feeding for the past three years dragged a freaking WILD PIG under my freaking house. I didn’t sleep at home that night, I called my boyfriend and told him the dogs and I were going to come spend the night because I didn’t trust the cats. My dogs would play tag with the cats before that night, they’d alternate chasing each other back and forth for hours on end, but after that night, my dogs were very careful around those cats. Cats are some sketchy animals and I will never forget that night so long as I live.

When I was a kid we had a dog named Sheba. She was a mutt, part German Shephard and the other part we had no clue but she was smaller with floppy ears.

She would ALWAYS get out and roam around then come back home.

One morning my mom walked to work at Jack In The Box. As soon as she got settled in her coworker says “I think your dogs hungry?”

My mom replies with “What do you mean you think my dogs hungry? We fed her breakfast before I came to work.

The coworker points to the drive thru window and theres Sheba, standing on her hind legs, front paws on the ledge looking in.

I got a call to come pick up the dog