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My dog died last week, and I'm already sick of people sending me that stupid Rainbow Bridge poem. Tell us about excellent (or rubbish) pets

(, Thu 31 Jan 2013, 19:42)
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Crying for Mrs. Weeps.
When I was about 8 years old I had a guinea pig. Her name was Mrs. Weeps - on account of the "wheep, wheep" noises she made.
She lived in a hutch about 2' off the ground. This was in Africa so some attempt to stop snakes and rats and the like getting into the hutch was kinda important.

I used to open the front of the hutch and feed Mrs. Weeps all sorts of scraps from the garden. I'd pet her and scratch behind her ears, she'd chomp her lettuce and wheep occasionally.

My mother had 3 dogs. One of them was a pure-bred Great Dane. For those who have never seen 1 they are a big, skinny dog with large heads. Usually quite uncoordinated - basically a good advertisement for large animals needing more than 1 brain. She had his papers and everything. He was called Magnus The Magnificent of Merridale (I'm sure if there are any Great Dane breeders on b3ta they can point me in the right direction to go about proving the veracity of his bloodline). Or Maggie for short. I quite liked him as I could climb onto his back like a horse (yes, he was that big) and pretend to "Hi, ho Silver, Awaaaaay!" He would tolerate this quite calmly and stoically despite being able to make the houseboy and gardener pretty much shit themselves with little more than a look and a low growl.
Maggie noticed Mrs. Weeps in her hutch. He noticed and he liked what he saw.

So there I was one morning feeding Mrs. Weeps when Maggie came up behind me. I tried to shoo him away whilst still blocking the door to Mrs. Weeps hutch. He bodily shoved me aside with his massive head, stuck his head inside the hutch and ate a screaming Mrs. Weeps in two huge mouthfuls.
Everyone came running out of the house to find me wailing that "Maggie ate Mrs. Weeps!" which must have been incredibly hard not to laugh at now that I type it.
I never really got on with Maggie after that & I never owned another guinea pig.

About a year later Maggie died (probably from distemper altho he was about 14). Apparently Great Danes are also prone to arthritis so aside from having to dig the fucking huge hole we buried him in I almost felt a little bad for all those times he played cowboys with me when he probably didn't want to.
(, Thu 31 Jan 2013, 23:34, 4 replies)
Could be worse ways to go, at least it was quick.

(, Fri 1 Feb 2013, 1:13, closed)

Distemper is a horrible way to go.
(, Fri 1 Feb 2013, 1:32, closed)
I dunno
getting chomped almost in half and then swallowed by something that's head was almost twice your size wouldn't be my choice of quietus making.

Plus what HP said. It wasn't nice but it didn't take too long and he went to sleep and didn't wake up.
(, Fri 1 Feb 2013, 3:56, closed)
If it eats my legs first,
I should have ample time to command my children to "AVENGE ME!" before I'm finished off, thus making death by giant monster a preferable end to passing quietly in my sleep.
(, Fri 1 Feb 2013, 9:38, closed)

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