Our first pup was a Corgi. Not a planned thing - she was the biggest dog we could get at the shelter within the 30 lb limit set by our landlord. She was already six, most likely dumped by breeders who could no longer make money off her, and she had attitude so the shelter didn't want to send her to a family with small children. We only had small cats, which the little duchess ignored, so she fit our family just fine.

Corgi's may appear cute, but do not be deceived. Within those adorable eyes lies a cunning mind fully fixated on its next meal. As we both worked during the day, we would leave our little Corgi home for a few hours with a couch and a full bowl of kibble.

Only to return to chaos.

It started with the cabinets - she quickly learned how to open doors of any size, terrorizing first the cabinet in the bathroom --- goodbye, cotton swabs --- and then the trash cabinet under the sink, which afforded a much better haul. The closet held little interest, just some towels which she pulled about like ragdolls. The other kitchen cabinets had dishes and pans, or bags of rice and pasta with no taste or flavor. Boring. After several child-safety locks and a few hardware installations we managed to secure every swinging door in our small one-bedroom home.

Then there was the day we left one of our hiking backpacks on the floor. To our dismay and horror, she managed to unzip the main pack, then unwrap and eat two whole protein bars - luckily, with no harm done. From then on we secured all bags and briefcases inside high shelves in the closet, which had also been secured with a better door handle.

All this held for a few months, without incident, and we lapsed into a false sense of security.

Then the first cat tower fell.

Since Corgi's are short, we had been keeping all the cat food up high on wooden towers, nearly three feet off the ground. The cats had no problem leaping up to this height but the duchess, of course, couldn't jump that high. She could only jump as high as say the ottoman next to the towers, if it were suddenly knocked onto its side by an unseen force...

We moved the ottoman.

Undeterred, the next thing to fall was the cat tower itself - from the pattern of teeth marks on the edge we could tell she had managed to jump up and grab hard enough to pull the entire thing over.

We weighed the cat tower down, and moved it back behind a wooden board that now blocked the tower completely from access.

We felt secure, but over a few days we noticed the cats eating more and more, their bowl empty nearly everyday when we got home. Curious, I weighed the cats - both generally underweight - only to discover they hadn't gained a pound.

The duchess, however, had gained nearly two.

Suspicious now, we eyed the towers again. No evidence of tampering. No furniture nearby in disarray. How had she managed it?

The only point of entry we could see was the thin board of wood itself, which ran between the end of our bed and the wall next to the towers. Our pup had access to the bed, with a set of steps on one side so she could climb up at night to sleep with us. Yet there was no such access on the other side of the bed where the board was. The top of the board was barely an inch wide, if that, and while we had secured it tightly in place there was no way it would hold a 35 - 40 lb barrell of a dog. Right?

Yet again and again, we came home to empty bowls. I started feeding the cats at night, trying to avoid leaving any food out during the day. Still, we couldn't figure out how she did it.

So one day, at our limit, we set up a small camera in video mode on the headboard and filled up both cat bowls. Then, under the pretense of "going to work", we gave our little pup a pat on the head and went outside. We waited there for about twenty minutes before we heard a soft thud. Excited, we dashed back inside to catch our little culprit red-pawed ----

---- only to see our innocent little Corgi looking up at us from the bed, our recording device inexplicably lying on the floor. The cat food was still there, untouched.

Reviewing the footage from our little fallen camera, we saw:

- Adorable Corgi jumping onto the bed, eyeing the cat food

- Adorable Corgi butt moving towards the board at the end of the bed

- Adorable Corgi suddenly stopping and looking back directly at the camera

- Adorable Corgi turning about and moving back towards the camera

- Adorable Corgi nose filling the screen, sniffing, and then the camera view tumbling downwards

After the failed sting operation, we gave up and moved the cat towers yet again to a corner without any any surrounding boards or funiture. For many years, we remained vigilant, never knowing exactly what our little duchess was truly capable of.

The carpet is a light color, not exactly a grey or beige, somewhere in between, solid. A color that shows everything against its weave, especially spilt coffee. Before the aroma of coffee even began to fill the room, with a flick of the coffee pot switch, our dog would always run wacky dog loop de loo towards his toy box.

“Why are you sitting on the floor playing tug with him while you drink your morning coffee, anyway? You created this problem.” Said my husband admonishingly, when my coffee spilled onto the carpet for the umpteenth time.

“I don’t know. I guess because I’ve always been a multitasker? And once a routine is set, break it, and try explaining that to a dog. But you are right,” I relented, running for the paper towels and solvent. “Before this rug is destroyed, I’m going to change it up, sit down with my coffee, and he will just have to wait.”

The next morning I anticipated my dog’s rebuttal, but was more than amused with his method of communicating his displeasure. While I held steadfast to my newfound behest, he began to tap with his paw on my leg, but not in the way we could have expected.

Tap. Pause. Tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap tap tap. Long pause. And then he started all over again. One through five.

I nudged my husband into attention, because I couldn’t believe it.

“Is he counting?”

“Yup!”

It took awhile for the new routine to settle into my dog's psyche. Maybe about a week or two as I would hold my coffe cup up towards him while repeating a command he was familiar with. “Wait. Wait.” But during that week or two, I have to say, we enjoyed the one through five tap rebuttal, even more so than our coffee and clean carpet.

When you are animal lover and caregiver of animals, in my case two cats, people tend to share their own animal stories. Most are relatable and heartwarming. But there are a few and rare animal stories that seem so wild to be true.

A friend and co-worker once told me a story about when he still lived in Puerto Rico. He and his roommate had a dog that they were trying to get rid of. Every time they would drive with the dog and drop it off, a few towns over, the dog would always return to their house a few days to a week later. Without fail. By the fourth and fifth time, they had given up and decided to keep the dog.

I asked him why he and his roommate didn’t take it to a shelter. He simply answered with a shrug, as though it were common knowledge, that it’s Puerto Rico and apparently shelters aren’t a thing in his home country.

Anyways, there was a man with a truck that would always drive from town to town and sell his produce. One day, my friend and his roommate were sitting outside their house, drinking a few beers with the dog lying nearby. And as the produce man made his way by my friend’s house, he saw the dog laying outside and decided to stop. The man asked my friend if that dog was his. To which my friend said it was.

It turns out that, every few days or weeks, the man had seen that exact dog, a few towns over, and it would follow behind him as he made his rounds through all the towns. It was then that my friend realized how the dog would return to him and his roommate.

#sillydogstory #truestory #smarterthanyouthink #mansbestfriend #toriesenseny #puertorico #craftydog #determination #produce #therearesomethingsyoucantgetridof #wherethereisawillthersaway #animals #animalstories #dogs #dogstory

It's a quarter to 6, and she's almost home. The view from this window is beyond words gorgeous. Dwayne isn't back yet, and I get front row seats tonight. The sun is sinking the street lights are on, and the sky is at its finest hour. Here she comes the curtains wide open she always keeps them that way before she does anything else. She takes down her ponytail; she lets it free. Today she's wearing her red sun dress it must be her favorite she wore it at least 5 times if I counted correctly. Today was perfect the breeze blew gently and the bees stayed away. Fortunately, I caught some shade by the bird bath without them stealing my food. Today was a good day! " Psst!"

Oh no, Ruby! An orange and white tabby that torments every free second of her nine lives.

She knows how to ruin a moment her and all her glorious femininity!

"shh"

"She can't hear us you pet!" Ruby is balancing herself on the neighboring railing.

She lives right next to us.

The door opens "Dwayne."

I pretend I'm asleep and he doesn't bother me; he takes a seat right in front of the window. He steals my front row seat to first class erotica!

I can hear Ruby snickering from her window!

He doesn't bother turning on the light since he doesn't want her to know he's been watching her for the past month getting undressed, shower and loath around the house in a black silk skin right robe.

There's a knock at the door.

He goes to answer while I reclaim what is rightfully mines!

Damn! She's gone the curtains are drawn, and her beautiful sculpted body is no longer visible.

Ruby is no where in sight I'm sure she's happy.

" Dwayne!" A voice from the living room speaks. Whoever she is, she is glad to see him.

About an hour in she's already down to her socks and a t-shirt and panties. I don't understand how this works. So many women I see come and go. Yesterday was a girl who resembled a boy but wore a skirt; then the night before was a woman with long hair cascading down back. This one has shoulder length hair and a butterfly tattoo on her ankle.

The butterfly tattooed woman is gone. They've been in the bathroom practically all night! God, I thought she killed him in there. There's another knock at the door. It's her! The babe from across the street! " Dwayne is it?"

I can barely hear the conversation I am busy quenching my thirst. He's excited to see her his smile has been on his face since she's walked in and that was over 20 minutes ago. Her hair is very short, not low maybe to her nape of her neck. I can tell it's midnight she's in her bra and panties and he's carrying her to his room. She must be unique because usually, it's the bathroom and never the bedroom.

Only two minutes have gone by, and she's collecting her stuff. He comes running out behind her his hands in the air now placing them on his hips. She looks at him then slaps him in the face the door slams hard! I creep on the couch to try and get a better perspective of what just happened. He goes in the bathroom and closes the door. I creep to the door and peek my head in.

"Get out!"

God, what women do to him!

He was gone for a week and a day. He was bigger when he came back; older and a bit fatter; they call Corgis coffee table dogs. He was still adorable. But more importantly, he remembered me and I had him back.

I cried and held him for a long time. He fell asleep on his back with his legs flat down. He was so relaxed; happy to be home.

A few days later, he woke up after a kitchen nap while I was making dinner. It was something with chicken. He trotted over to me and sat down and whimpered.

"No, Phinny. You can't have raw chicken."

He whined louder and pawed the ground with his stumpy legs.

"No, Phin."

He snorted aggressively this time; his whining became even more intense. If he'd been a child, I wouldn't have given in. I don't think bad behavior should be rewarded with kids. It's how you get narcissists; bad for society. Dogs, however, have almost no impact on anything outside of your household. Provided they're leashed that is. Besides, I found Phin's tantrums kind of cute. But I guess I thought that of everything he did.

"Fine, you little turd!" I put down what I was doing and scrubbed my hands. I turned around and dug into the meat drawer of the refrigerator to find the package of turkey meat.

I pulled out a few slices and dangled it above his head. He was standing on all four of his feet –“dancing”- in anticipation. Suddenly, he plopped down again, and stared intently at the poultry and then lifted his stubby little paws, put them together and started to beg. I had never taught him to do that, or had seen him attempt it before his disappearance, but it became his signature treat-getting move.

Jordan walked into the kitchen to feed the dogs. Lady, a red mutt the color of an Irish Setter, but thank you no, not an Irish Setter, was lounging under the dining room table. Misty, the Brittany, had jumped up onto the bench seat in the bay window and was looking at something while her stubby tail was wagging her butt.

He opened the cabinet under the counter holding the dog food and supplies an inch and ran his finger along the inner edge of the door until it hit the child-safety latch. He released it. At the sound, Misty launched herself from the bench and in two bounds was in the kitchen dancing around his feet. He scooped kibble into one bowl, pushed Misty out of the cabinet, and scooped kibble into a second bowl. He pushed Misty out of the cabinet again and closed it and checked to make sure it had locked. He had had to put the latch on because Misty the Wonder Dog had figured out how to claw the door open and had dragged an entire new twenty-pound bag of food into the living room and tried to open it. She had been caught before she had started her feast, much to her disappointment.

“Lady,” he called holding her bowl, but not yet placing it on the floor. She elegantly walked into the kitchen long hair flowing and silky tail held high. When Misty bounced into her, she raised her lip slightly. Misty planted her butt on the kitchen floor, tail still going.

Jordan put Lady’s bowl down and said, “There you go Queen Under the Table.” She precisely ate one piece of kibble at a time. He walked to the other side of the kitchen and put Misty’s bowl down. She shoved her snout in and ate. Then she was done. Criminy, did she just swallow it whole?

Misty hovered around Lady, and stayed exactly three feet away. Jordan hadn’t taught her that. Lady had. Misty burped and chewed something and swallowed. Yep, she ate it whole.

Jordan made himself a sandwich and ate. Lady finished her food. When she was out of the kitchen, Misty attacked her bowl, found no food and went straight to the cabinet and pawed it open one inch. She tried to power-nose it open further, but it wouldn’t budge. There was a great deal of snuffling, then a sudden charge to the living room and a leap onto the bench.

Jordan’s dad had just moved into a new house, and he had promised he would come over to visit this afternoon. Dad had a fenced yard, which he did not. He was looking forward to letting the dogs loose. It would be a new experience for them.

He went straight to his dad’s backyard and let the dogs off the leash. Misty ran around the perimeter and Lady settled comfortably in the shade of the lone maple tree. Dad came out the back door. “Oh, they’re going to love this,” dad said.

“Yep,” Jordan said.

“Come on in and I’ll give you the tour.”

At the end of the tour they were at the back door again and dad said, “Hey the neighbor has a new dog.”

Jordan looked and said, “Oh Christ, that’s not a new dog!” He grabbed Misty’s leash, hopped the fence, apologized profusely to the cursing neighbor as he tried to catch his dog. He finally got Wonder Dog on-leash and walked her back to the yard.

“How’d she do that?” dad asked.

“She jumped the fence.”

“Bullshit! That’s a four-foot chain-link. No way she jumped it. Must be a hole somewhere.” They inspected the fence closely. No hole.

Jordan let Misty off-leash and walked into the house with his dad. They both stood at the door and watched. There was no hole, nor did she jump the fence. She went to the corner and put her front paws as high as she could reach, then tilted her head and pressed it against the other side of the fence that was at a ninety-degree angle to the fence she was currently hanging on. Then she moved her front paws up and hooked her back paws onto the fence. She moved her head up and started the whole process again and was over the fence and in the neighbor’s yard again. Lady watched the entire process from her spot in the shade.

“I’ll be damned,” dad said.

“Here we go again.”

When Jordan returned to the yard, dad was waiting. He held the end of a long chain-link leash and the other end was secured around the trunk of the maple. Jordan walked Wonder Dog over and dad clipped on the leash. They didn’t say a word. Lady still lounged in the shade of the maple calmly watching the entire thing.

-Names and details have been changed slightly to protect the goofy.

#dogs#humor#animals

The funniest thing I have ever seen a dog do was not a trick he learned or anything else but the most hilarious of coincidences.

My family used to have a black labrador who was a retired Guiding Eyes dog and he was by far the most mellow and gentle labrador I have ever been around. He loved to sidle up to people and lure them closer to his face by wagging his tail and leaning on them until they got close enough for him to saturate their face in drooly and foul-smelling kisses.

One day at my parents' house we were having a BBQ with some friends from church and we were all sitting on our back porch enjoying a warm July evening. I was sitting near my sister and another teenage boy whom my sister had a crush on at the time. As we were sitting there, our loving labrador (his name was Salem) cuddled up next to my sister and began to wag his tail and be absolutely adorable in order to get her attention. Of course it worked and my sister began to pat his head and accept his well-meaning kisses. Since her crush was sitting nearby, my sister was of course making a little bit of a display of the whole thing and demonstrating just how tender and kind she could be to animals.

After one or two kisses, Salem looked at my sister, took a step back, and emptied the contents of his stomach on our back porch. The absolute mortification on my sister's face, accompanied by an apologetic look on Salem's face made both me and my sister's crush fall of the porch from laughing.

Sadly, I don't think my sister ever got a chance to redeem her kissing skills with her crush.