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When one of my cats was younger and a lot fatter, he came bowling in from the garden with an almighty crash. Looking slightly stunned, he'd arrived into the kitchen having ripped the cat flap from the door and was still wearing it as a cat-tutu. Did I mention he was quite fat?

In honour of Jake, a well loved cat, who died on Wednesday, tell us your pet stories and cheer us up.

(, Fri 8 Jun 2007, 8:15)
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Our family have had 2 dobermanns.

The first was Albert. When very young he didn't understand what water was, and would just run straight towards it thinking it was solid land. This would generally end with a large splash and a very wet dog. Despite this early confusion he gradually developed a bit of a reputation as a badass.

According to my Dad, on one walk he jumped a fence, caught his front legs on the top, flipped over and landed on his back, got up and carried on. On another, he ran into a wire fence, but instead of getting decapitated he pulled 10ft of wire fencing down either side before it bought him to a grinding halt.

His triumph though was taking on a pack of police alsations which all promptly legged it with their tails between their legs.

Our second Dobermann, Duke, had entirely the opposite reputation. We got him from a rescue, where he had been saved from being put down. Some arsehole had taken him to the vet because he wasn't a very good guard dog and had requested he be put down (he was about 2 at this point). The vet flatly refused and had him sent to a rescue.

The guy did have a point though. Duke never barked at the door, greeted everyone with interest and joy, whimpered constantly in the car, couldn't swim (not even a doggy paddle) and was even known to have eaten a satsuma. The worst he could do to you was sit on your foot when he sidled up to you for a stroke.

However, on one walk, we came head to head with a psycho motherfucker boxer dog. We saw this thing from a distance, and it actually lay down in the long grass like a lion waiting to attack. Duke, being the amicable chap that he was wondered up to say hello to owner and dog, at which point lion/boxer hybrid pounces on him and pins him against a fence. The dumb bitch owner of said psycho dog stood stone still and clearly had no control over her clearly dangerous dog. My Dad, who was not having any of this, waded in, grabbed psycho dog by the collar, lifted him clear of Duke, and booted the boxer fucking hard, right up the arse. The dog then shut the fuck up and the dumb bitch owner managed to get it on a lead. However as they walked away we realised that while my Dad was pulling the boxer off of him, Duke had snapped real viciously back, and ripped a massive chunk of skin from the boxer's lip, which was hanging from it's mouth rather gruesomely. On further inspection Duke was none the worse for wear. I was well proud of him after that.

Length, about 6 inches and dripping with blood...
(, Tue 12 Jun 2007, 22:46, Reply)

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