Showing posts with label dog lovers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog lovers. Show all posts
Friday, December 21, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
TODAY'S MISERY FROM POLICE SHOOT DOG
http://www.windypundit.com/archives/2012/09/why_puppycide.html
http://www.clickorlando.com/news/Ocoee-family-says-officer-shot-killed-pet/-/1637132/16724956/-/iet82t/-/index.html
http://www.wnd.com/2012/09/decision-on-cop-who-shot-dog-for-no-reason/
| TX/COP
SHOOTS DOG DASHCAM - Human interest, Animal,
Crime ... TX/COP SHOOTS DOG DASHCAM - dog - Human interest, Animal, Crime, law and justice, Police - VO - EN - Newspusher. www.newspusher.com/EN/.../tx-cop-shoots-dog-dashcam.html |
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| Cop
shoots family dog, on the hook for 600K
- Page 2 - Glock Talk I like my dog alot more than several family members. They are part of the family to me. The amount might be high but when you think about all the time and ... glocktalk.com/forums/showthread.php?p=19441166 |
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| Government
Outrage- Government gone wild: "Hero" cop shoots
... Government gone wild: "Hero" cop shoots puppy six times ... There are two different stories being told about why a family's dog in Hamlet was shot to death by a ... www.thedailycrux.com/.../Government-gone-wild---Hero--co... |
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| NOTssmbbs.com
• View topic - Another Cop Shoots Dog Story Re: Another Cop Shoots Dog Story. Mon Sep 24, 2012 12:54 pm. Marc don't worry about it I've been called worse for less...by my wife LOL. I am very sorry you ... www.notssmbbs.com/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=22029&start... |
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| Illinois
police officer goes to wrong house, shoots
family's dog I am beginning to believe that many members of local police forces who are ex- military and supposedly 'shoe-ins' for a badge and a gun also bring the wrong ... freerepublic.com/focus/chat/2934834/posts?page=61 |
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
CAN SOMEONE SAVE SAMMY'S LIFE? HE'S JUST A LITTLE BRINDLE BOY, BUT HE DOESN'T HAVE LONG AT THE BAY COUNTY ANIMAL CONTROL IN PANAMA CITY, FL - HERE'S A LETTER FROM VOLUNTEER SHARON ABOUT HIM
PLEASE HELP SAMMY FIND HIS FOREVER HOME! THE NUMBER TO CALL IS 850-767-333
SAMMY DOESN'T HAVE A LOT OF TIME LEFT. PLEASE SAVE HIM FROM EUTHANASIA! THERE'S GOT TO BE SOMEONE OUT THERE WHO NEEDS HIM.
To Whom It May Concern,
I am writing this on behalf of the small, brindle, shelter dog you fell in
love with 4 weeks ago. You and your family took him to the shelter lobby and got
to know him so well, you declared you wanted to take him home right then and
there.
Unfortunately, he was a stray, who had only been picked up by Animal
Control 2 days earlier. He was on what is known at the shelter, as “stray hold.”
That means he had to stay at the shelter a certain amount of days. These days
were allotted in an effort to give his owner time to come and claim him.
You and your children spent a good long time, playing with, and petting,
him. You said he was the perfect dog for you, and you fell in love with him, and
he fell in love with you. You vowed that you would return in 5 days, when the
“stray hold” ended, and you would adopt him.
But when the time was up, and the dog was available, you did not return. It
has been over 4 weeks and he still waits for you. He has survived this long
because the shelter volunteers still hope you will return, or, if not you, maybe
someone else will want him.
His time is running short though. He occupies a kennel that is needed for
another dog, another stray. The small, brindle dog needs to move on. Maybe the
next occupant of kennel AD-3 will be luckier.
And though the dog’s life will be cut short, he will remember that one
happy hour he spent with you and your family, in the shelter lobby.
I guess I can thank you for that.
Sharon
Friday, December 2, 2011
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Counting down to Mother's Day - And here's something for the mothers who read this...
especially if you're a dog lover.
This is an original piece of mine, which will someday go into a collection of dog stories. I need not remind you that the copyright resides with me. Please contact me for permission to distribute it.
THE GOOD MOTHER
Today dawned bright and blustery; a fine Saturday after long, successive days of rain, heat and humidity. A good October day for going about one’s Saturday business, which meant for us a morning spent at the flea market and shopping in town. A stiff north wind swept away the cobwebs and brought us a welcomed, though unfamiliar, chill in the air.
We took another route home today, foregoing the highway for the more pleasant drive through greener neighborhoods, past the Muskogee Creek Clan’s ceremonial grounds, and the Department of Game and Freshwater Fish offices. A dam separates the spring-fed waters of Deerpoint Lake from the salt of St. Andrew’s Bay, and we often see something interesting - mostly dolphins feeding and playing in the quiet water of the bay; a turtle that needs moving off the road or an occasional alligator taking a stroll.
Today the whitecaps raced across both waters, and even the birds were staying close to shore.
And then I saw the puppies. At first glance at 50 mph, I thought they were Jack Russell terriers, two mostly white dogs, one with black markings on the head, the other with nearly identical brown markings. I turned around as my husband stopped the truck. These were puppies, and only about three months old. We couldn’t leave them there.
All alone they sat at the bottom of the embankment, intently watching something in the swamp that we couldn’t see. I got out quietly and walked slowly, speaking softly and trying to coax them to come to me. They paid me no attention, preferring to ignore me. Something moved in the dense undergrowth...a small white and tan hound. Their mother. Her teats indicated that the pups would soon be weaned, but they were still swollen. Mother, however, was extremely thin. The puppies, I noticed, were also thin, with distended abdomens that told of poor nutrition and parasites. I came to within 10 feet of the pups. One gave me a strange, sidelong glance - “If I don’t look at your eyes”, it seemed to say, “then you won’t see me, and I won’t be afraid”. Mother was pacing behind bushes, well concealed in the undergrowth. The pup nearest me stood and tested a fallen limb lying across a seep and picked its way across to its mother, the other following close behind. The three vanished like wraiths into the swampy gloom. I could no longer see them, but Mother gave three short, low-pitched woofs that warned me not to follow.
I walked back to the truck, holding my hands to my heart (and surely it would break if I didn’t) for these three brave small souls eking out their survival in this forbidding piece of real estate that is the southern swamp. A now-feral mother and two small pups, growing up wild. For all their days, few that they are, never knowing a full belly, a soft, safe bed, the gentle touch and kind words of a human. Their mother, apparently a hunting dog from what I could see - and in these parts, an expendable commodity - most likely had a home of sorts at some time in her life. She was probably kenneled in someone’s backyard, given little affection, a modicum of care, and hunted when deer season arrived. If she strayed from the trail, if she were separated from her owner or the pack, it is quite possible she was left, cursed and abandoned to fend for herself. Hunting dogs are easily affordable here and bred so that the litters are planned to give new owners time to train them before hunting season. After the season, many are left behind in the woods, to live by their wits and anything edible they can find. If they are lucky, they will be shot and left where they fall for the vultures, the opossum, the fire ants and whatever else that scavenges upon the corpses. That is a more merciful death than what awaits this hapless trio. To be fair, many deer dogs will find their way home, either by diligence on the owner’s part, or by their training, to return after trailing long miles to the spot they were released. But many more find their death on the roads and highways.
What happened to Mother? Did she wander off a trail because of youthful hijinks and the lure of exciting scents in the forest and therefore, abandoned? Was she not good enough to be waited for, gathered up and brought home? How did she fail her owner? How could any dog fail its owner! Did she stray from home and forget her way back? Was she dumped on the roadside because she was unwanted - her owner thinking that someone would find her at the little beachfront park a few hundred feet away?
Pregnant and alone, needing food and having to hunt for it in a mosquito- and snake-infested swamp, must have been difficult beyond our wildest imaginings. Whelping puppies somewhere in a makeshift nest in the heat and rain of summer in the company of alligators, coyotes and bear must have been a horror. Mother was not wild, and she did her best to protect her family to bring them this far. What does a cast-off domestic dog do to find food to feed herself and nourish her growing puppies, anyway? How many times was she chased away from yards and trash cans.
I telephoned the Humane Society when I got home. The voice on the other end was sympathetic, “But”, she said, “We get so many calls like this. These dogs are very hard to catch, but we’ll make an effort”. She was not hopeful.
I am not hopeful.
If angels watch over homeless, hungry, frightened, injured, abused, neglected, abandoned animals, I hope they are watching over two wild puppies in a north Florida swamp, and their good mother, who used to have a home.
This is an original piece of mine, which will someday go into a collection of dog stories. I need not remind you that the copyright resides with me. Please contact me for permission to distribute it.
THE GOOD MOTHER
Today dawned bright and blustery; a fine Saturday after long, successive days of rain, heat and humidity. A good October day for going about one’s Saturday business, which meant for us a morning spent at the flea market and shopping in town. A stiff north wind swept away the cobwebs and brought us a welcomed, though unfamiliar, chill in the air.
We took another route home today, foregoing the highway for the more pleasant drive through greener neighborhoods, past the Muskogee Creek Clan’s ceremonial grounds, and the Department of Game and Freshwater Fish offices. A dam separates the spring-fed waters of Deerpoint Lake from the salt of St. Andrew’s Bay, and we often see something interesting - mostly dolphins feeding and playing in the quiet water of the bay; a turtle that needs moving off the road or an occasional alligator taking a stroll.
Today the whitecaps raced across both waters, and even the birds were staying close to shore.
And then I saw the puppies. At first glance at 50 mph, I thought they were Jack Russell terriers, two mostly white dogs, one with black markings on the head, the other with nearly identical brown markings. I turned around as my husband stopped the truck. These were puppies, and only about three months old. We couldn’t leave them there.
All alone they sat at the bottom of the embankment, intently watching something in the swamp that we couldn’t see. I got out quietly and walked slowly, speaking softly and trying to coax them to come to me. They paid me no attention, preferring to ignore me. Something moved in the dense undergrowth...a small white and tan hound. Their mother. Her teats indicated that the pups would soon be weaned, but they were still swollen. Mother, however, was extremely thin. The puppies, I noticed, were also thin, with distended abdomens that told of poor nutrition and parasites. I came to within 10 feet of the pups. One gave me a strange, sidelong glance - “If I don’t look at your eyes”, it seemed to say, “then you won’t see me, and I won’t be afraid”. Mother was pacing behind bushes, well concealed in the undergrowth. The pup nearest me stood and tested a fallen limb lying across a seep and picked its way across to its mother, the other following close behind. The three vanished like wraiths into the swampy gloom. I could no longer see them, but Mother gave three short, low-pitched woofs that warned me not to follow.
I walked back to the truck, holding my hands to my heart (and surely it would break if I didn’t) for these three brave small souls eking out their survival in this forbidding piece of real estate that is the southern swamp. A now-feral mother and two small pups, growing up wild. For all their days, few that they are, never knowing a full belly, a soft, safe bed, the gentle touch and kind words of a human. Their mother, apparently a hunting dog from what I could see - and in these parts, an expendable commodity - most likely had a home of sorts at some time in her life. She was probably kenneled in someone’s backyard, given little affection, a modicum of care, and hunted when deer season arrived. If she strayed from the trail, if she were separated from her owner or the pack, it is quite possible she was left, cursed and abandoned to fend for herself. Hunting dogs are easily affordable here and bred so that the litters are planned to give new owners time to train them before hunting season. After the season, many are left behind in the woods, to live by their wits and anything edible they can find. If they are lucky, they will be shot and left where they fall for the vultures, the opossum, the fire ants and whatever else that scavenges upon the corpses. That is a more merciful death than what awaits this hapless trio. To be fair, many deer dogs will find their way home, either by diligence on the owner’s part, or by their training, to return after trailing long miles to the spot they were released. But many more find their death on the roads and highways.
What happened to Mother? Did she wander off a trail because of youthful hijinks and the lure of exciting scents in the forest and therefore, abandoned? Was she not good enough to be waited for, gathered up and brought home? How did she fail her owner? How could any dog fail its owner! Did she stray from home and forget her way back? Was she dumped on the roadside because she was unwanted - her owner thinking that someone would find her at the little beachfront park a few hundred feet away?
Pregnant and alone, needing food and having to hunt for it in a mosquito- and snake-infested swamp, must have been difficult beyond our wildest imaginings. Whelping puppies somewhere in a makeshift nest in the heat and rain of summer in the company of alligators, coyotes and bear must have been a horror. Mother was not wild, and she did her best to protect her family to bring them this far. What does a cast-off domestic dog do to find food to feed herself and nourish her growing puppies, anyway? How many times was she chased away from yards and trash cans.
I telephoned the Humane Society when I got home. The voice on the other end was sympathetic, “But”, she said, “We get so many calls like this. These dogs are very hard to catch, but we’ll make an effort”. She was not hopeful.
I am not hopeful.
If angels watch over homeless, hungry, frightened, injured, abused, neglected, abandoned animals, I hope they are watching over two wild puppies in a north Florida swamp, and their good mother, who used to have a home.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
"Puppy size" story from www.petplace.com - for dog lovers everywhere
One tissue alert!
*Puppy Size*
Danielle keeps repeating it over and over again. "We've been back to this animal shelter
at least five times. It has been weeks now since we started all of this," the mother told the volunteer.
"What is it she keeps asking for?", the volunteer asked.
"'Puppy size!'" replied the mother.
"Well, we have plenty of puppies, if that's what she's looking for."
"I know... we have seen most of them", the mom said in frustration.
Just then Danielle came walking into the office
"Well, did you find one?" asked her mom. "No, not this time," Danielle said with sadness in her voice. "Can we come back on the weekend?"
The two women looked at each other, shook their heads and laughed.
"You never know when we will get more dogs. Unfortunately, there's always a supply," the volunteer said.
Danielle took her mother by the hand and headed to the door. "Don 't worry, I'll find one this weekend," she said.
Over the next few days both Mom and Dad had long conversations with her.
They both felt she was being too particular. "It's this weekend or we're not looking any more," Dad finally said in frustration.
"We don't want to hear anything more about 'puppy size', either," Mom added.
Sure enough, they were the first ones in the shelter on Saturday morning. By now Danielle knew her way around, so she ran right for the section that housed the smaller dogs.
Tired of the routine, mom sat in the small waiting room at the end of the first row of cages. There was an observation window so you could see the animals during times when visitors weren't permitted.
Danielle walked slowly from cage to cage, kneeling periodically to take a closer look. One by one the dogs were brought out and she held each one.
One by one she said, "Sorry, but you're not the one."
It was the last cage on this last day in search of the perfect pup.
The volunteer opened the cage door and the child carefully picked up the dog and held it closely. This time she took a little longer.
"Mom, that's it! I found the right puppy! He's the one! I know it!" She screamed with joy. "It's the puppy size!"
"But it's the same size as all the other puppies you held over the last few weeks," Mom said.
"No...not size... The sighs. When I held him in my arms, he sighed", she said.
"Don 't you remember? When I asked you one day what love is, you told me love depends on the sighs of your heart. The more you love, the bigger the sigh!"
The two women looked at each other for a moment. Mom didn't know whether to laugh or cry. As she stooped down to hug the child, she did a little of both.
"Mom, every time you hold me, I sigh. When you and Daddy come home from work and hug each other, you both sigh. I knew I would find the right puppy if it sighed when I held it in my arms", she said.
Then, holding the puppy up close to her face, she said, "Mom, he loves
me. I heard the sighs of his heart!"
Close your eyes for a moment and think about the love that makes you sigh. I not only find it in the arms of my loved ones, but in the caress of a sunset, the kiss of the moonlight and the gentle brush of cool air on a hot day. Take the time to stop and listen; you will be surprised at what you hear. 'Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
*Disclaimer*
**Many of these articles were submitted by PetPlace.com pet lovers and the original source is unknown in terms of origin, author or copyright. It is not our intent to infringe on anyone's copyright and if it is done, it is done unknowingly and we would be happy to remove the offending content. Just email us
*Puppy Size*
Danielle keeps repeating it over and over again. "We've been back to this animal shelter
at least five times. It has been weeks now since we started all of this," the mother told the volunteer.
"What is it she keeps asking for?", the volunteer asked.
"'Puppy size!'" replied the mother.
"Well, we have plenty of puppies, if that's what she's looking for."
"I know... we have seen most of them", the mom said in frustration.
Just then Danielle came walking into the office
"Well, did you find one?" asked her mom. "No, not this time," Danielle said with sadness in her voice. "Can we come back on the weekend?"
The two women looked at each other, shook their heads and laughed.
"You never know when we will get more dogs. Unfortunately, there's always a supply," the volunteer said.
Danielle took her mother by the hand and headed to the door. "Don 't worry, I'll find one this weekend," she said.
Over the next few days both Mom and Dad had long conversations with her.
They both felt she was being too particular. "It's this weekend or we're not looking any more," Dad finally said in frustration.
"We don't want to hear anything more about 'puppy size', either," Mom added.
Sure enough, they were the first ones in the shelter on Saturday morning. By now Danielle knew her way around, so she ran right for the section that housed the smaller dogs.
Tired of the routine, mom sat in the small waiting room at the end of the first row of cages. There was an observation window so you could see the animals during times when visitors weren't permitted.
Danielle walked slowly from cage to cage, kneeling periodically to take a closer look. One by one the dogs were brought out and she held each one.
One by one she said, "Sorry, but you're not the one."
It was the last cage on this last day in search of the perfect pup.
The volunteer opened the cage door and the child carefully picked up the dog and held it closely. This time she took a little longer.
"Mom, that's it! I found the right puppy! He's the one! I know it!" She screamed with joy. "It's the puppy size!"
"But it's the same size as all the other puppies you held over the last few weeks," Mom said.
"No...not size... The sighs. When I held him in my arms, he sighed", she said.
"Don 't you remember? When I asked you one day what love is, you told me love depends on the sighs of your heart. The more you love, the bigger the sigh!"
The two women looked at each other for a moment. Mom didn't know whether to laugh or cry. As she stooped down to hug the child, she did a little of both.
"Mom, every time you hold me, I sigh. When you and Daddy come home from work and hug each other, you both sigh. I knew I would find the right puppy if it sighed when I held it in my arms", she said.
Then, holding the puppy up close to her face, she said, "Mom, he loves
me. I heard the sighs of his heart!"
Close your eyes for a moment and think about the love that makes you sigh. I not only find it in the arms of my loved ones, but in the caress of a sunset, the kiss of the moonlight and the gentle brush of cool air on a hot day. Take the time to stop and listen; you will be surprised at what you hear. 'Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
*Disclaimer*
**Many of these articles were submitted by PetPlace.com pet lovers and the original source is unknown in terms of origin, author or copyright. It is not our intent to infringe on anyone's copyright and if it is done, it is done unknowingly and we would be happy to remove the offending content. Just email us
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