Magnus killed & ate Mrs. Weeps.
Growing up in deepest darkest Africa. I didn't live with my mum, but visited her regularly. She had some dogs, one of which was a pure-breed Great Dane whose title was (from memory) Magnus The Magnificent of Merridale - otherwise known as Maggie. I also had a hutch with a guinea pig in it called Mrs. Weeps ('cause she went "wheep, wheep, wheep" a lot.)
The door to Mrs. Weep's hutch was at little boy torso and Great Dane head height. One day whilst I was feeding Mrs. Weeps some lettuce Maggie decided he wanted some Mrs. Weeps. He fully knocked me out of the way, head in the hutch and a screaming Mrs. Weeps down his gullet before I could react.
Fucking hated that dog after that. Serves me right tho cause I was the poor bastard that had to bury him a few years later after he had died in his sleep. I'm talking about a very big fucking dog.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Wed 28 Dec 2011, 3:20, 4 replies)

I'd have got a guinea
pig and fed the bastard to it. Justice!
(username failed moderation, Wed 28 Dec 2011, 8:31, closed)

maybe it would have been better for you
if you had simply blown his carcass up like they do with beached whales
( fluffybunnykiller Is feasting on the clitoris of life, Wed 28 Dec 2011, 11:05, closed)

My dad
promised my mum that he would bury her dog in a proper grave. We were playing at the gravel pit and there was old Rover lying where other people had dumped their old fridges.
We knew better than to say anything.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Thu 29 Dec 2011, 4:05, closed)

"Rover"

(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Thu 29 Dec 2011, 4:34, closed)