Does it count as cruelty if the dog is thick as shit?

Our old dog, called Dog (the grot-chewer) was a veritable livewire of energy. Physical energy, sexual energy, chemical energy – you name it, bloody dog had it in spades.

Walking the little turd was a nightmare. When he wasn’t humping anything that moved (animal, mineral or vegetable) he would sprint around like a deranged cheetah, totally oblivious to it’s surroundings and my ever-increasingly desperate cries of ‘Get back here Dog, you little bollocks’.(Barbara Woodhouse would’ve been proud)

I swear it Dog had an inexhaustible energy supply like cold fusion or something (or so I thought). On every walk, I would get knackered just standing there watching it tanking about before it got tired of running / humping / fetching / more humping.

It lived to chase after stuff, but as has already been documented on these pages, some dogs are twatty when giving sticks back. To them, making you chase after them a la Duncan Norvelle was even more fun than them getting the stick in the first place. Dog was one of those dogs.

One day, I decided to conduct a little experiment. I took the little scrote to the outskirts of a nearby test track. This area inbetween had a straight line country path about half a mile long. The place was littered with stones. I stood in the middle of the path, picked up a stone and immediately Dog’s eyes had that mentalist glint about them. Whilst jumping about and panting (that’s the dog, not me), the first stone is thrown.

WHOOOOOOOOSH! – off like the nympho speed merchant that he was, he must’ve clocked up 40mph by the time he reached the area where the stone lands. He barely has time to start sniffing when I pick up another stone and start to wave it about:

ME: “OI DOG”
Dog (in a dog way): “Huh?”

Then…NEEEEEEOOOOOOOWWW! – bollocking as fast as his stumpy legs would carry him, he sprints back towards me, immediately forgetting what he was doing so far away from me in the first place. As soon as he gets within 10 feet of me I throw the stone in the opposite direction.

And like the purest shit off a shovel, Dog legs it right past me in pursuit of the second stone…and the game continues…

After about half an hour of this, my arm is tired of chucking stones up and down. Fuck knows how the dog kept going, and how many miles he covered at full tilt, but one time as I noticed him go by, I saw how his face was absolutely drenched in dog saliva, splattered over him because he hadn’t stopped long enough for it to drool down.

‘Time to go home’ I thought.

I put him on his lead and he was shaking…his panting was more like desperate wheezing…Darth Vader style.

He was amazingly responsive to having his lead put back on and didn’t struggle to get free like usual.

It was here I thought I may have gone a bit far with the exercise.

Now the walk was a good mile home and I insisted he sit at every road. The first road was fine…it looked like he was happy with the rest. In fact, it took a bit of a nudge to get him back on his feet.

At the next road…he collapsed. ‘Oh shit, I’ve killed Dog’ I thought.

I had to carry the little ball-ache the whole rest of the way home, with his tongue hanging out dragging across my arm, groaning and covering me in dog slobber.

I finally got him home and he barely moved for about 3 hours afterwards. He just sat in the corner twitching and whimpering.

“That’ll learn ‘im” I thought.

Next day – at walkies…we get to the path…I pick up a stone…and the thick twat starts all over again.

Another league of proper dumbass, that dog
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 6 Dec 2007, 17:07, 2 replies)

that reminds me of another doggie story, involving food.
Keep it up, Poo-ey :D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 6 Dec 2007, 17:41, closed)

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
ME: “OI DOG”
Dog (in a dog way): “Huh?”
(clumsyeloquence is a girl, Sat 8 Dec 2007, 22:15, closed)