The Great Dane with the Dodgy Gut
Title says it all really.

When I was a little sproglet, we had a lovely lump of a Great Dane that was about twice my height. Beautiful, lovely, friendly, soft, gentle creature. Unfortunately he had an inherited stomach problem - basically it meant that things would fly through him, and he had an absolutely enormous appetite, which lead to a propensity to eat whatever he could find. To this day, I sleep in late - purely because as a child you never wanted to be the first one up because of the sheer mountains of dog dump that would confront you downstairs.

Memorable passages include:

1. The entire 4kg tub of margarine he snaffled. This greased him through, and for days was fixed in a squat, ejecting a never-ending stream of arsegravy.

2. When I couldn't find my favourite pair of yellow socks. My mum swore she'd washed them and they were in the clean laundry basket. Three days later I found them, still neatly folded - and in the middle of a gently steaming pile of dog's egg.

But, by far the most memorable:
3. When he managed to nick the remains of a sunday roast. Unfortunately, the bits of elasticated string from the roast were still on the plate. A day or so later, he was wandering around the house with about 6 inches of the elastic hanging out of his bumhole. My dad decides to help out, and grabs the end to tug it out. It's well wedged up the gut, so my dad pulls hard. The end of the greasy elastic slips out of his fingers, and the whole thing snaps back at the hound's ringpiece. I have never, ever, seen an animal move so fast or yelp so loud. He didn't come back for hours, and wouldn't go near my dad for weeks.

Despite the faecal exploits, I loved that big stupid woof.
(meepmeep is, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 10:50, Reply)