How's THIS for a Bad Dog post?!

telestratosonic

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This is similar to the story I related about Thanksgiving at a brother's this year. One of his sons brought his "youngish" dog, and at one point people were horsing around with the dog, and got him agitated. He came up to me, and I put out my hand for him to sniff.....and he took a chunk out of it. It ripped open my skin, and I bleed profusely anyway. We used antibiotic ointment and bandaged it, and it ached like a mofo for a couple days, but gradually improved. Hope your hand gets better soon.
My biggest concern, though, is.....do you really want a full-time harp player in your band? ;)
I'd almost prefer a dog-bite.
LOL!
 

pippoman

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What about "do not touch the dog" didn't you understand?

Good dog. Ahh, kidding. Hope your hand is alright.

When I was young I rented a room with this highly dysfunctional family. They had a HUGE German Shepard named "Leafy". Evil Beast From Hell would have been more accurate.

I'm in the camp that all dogs are good. Still need to beware of traumatized dogs, and maybe very old dogs with pain, blindness, hearing loss, etc. But in this case, it wasn't the dog that was traumatized. It was everyone else.

They had this tiny, narrow kitchen counter against the wall, with stools where you'd pull up and eat breakfast. No room underneath. Well, my first day, Leafy takes this opportunity to ensure I'm aware that the bottom rung of the pecking ladder is mine, and mine alone. I didn't see him coming. Somehow he got his big frame under there. I first noticed the warmth on my crotch. The fleeting "hey, that feels pretty good" disappeared when I looked down and saw those evil eyes looking up at me. He was looking in such a way that his eyes rolled up, while his mouth remained firmly planted you know where. As soon as I make eye contact, the growling starts. Too quiet for anyone but me to hear. Without moving quickly, I pleaded for help.

"Oh Leafy, stop that..."

Yeah Leafy. Stop that, and go play in traffic. Jeez.


Every time the family would go out, they'd barricade (I mean this literally) Leafy in the kitchen. The door was a mess from the constant battering. I was witness to this - after the family left, it was as if I wasn't there. His sole focus, and the outlet for immense rage, was to break down the door. Which he eventually did. Every time. This had to be a 120 lb dog, and there was a good ten feet of runway to get up steam. He'd hit the door, hard. Repeatedly. Maybe fifteen minutes of this, and it would bust open, either breaking the lock, the door itself, or the bar they would try to place across it. Sometimes the entire door would just be sent flying, to lie flat on the hallway floor.

Successful, Leafy would then proceed to go upstairs and take a dump on each family member's bed. Never mine. Just his captors.


Last story: one day Leafy got out, and was cruising the neighborhood, looking for prey. Next thing we knew, there's a knock on the front door, and it's a nicely dressed gentleman, with a briefcase, umbrella, and bowler hat (really) who was walking down the sidewalk, on his way to the train. (This was Swarthmore, PA, a nice tree-lined-street college town). Seems he had met Leafy on the sidewalk, reached down to give him a pat, and >CLAMP< the dog got his entire hand in those massive jaws, and refused to give it back. Then he brought him home. A new toy? Can I keep it?

I have no idea why they kept the dog. I can't imagine the hate going through that dog's mind. And why? They never once mistreated him - nor would they have.

Reminds me of the Far Side cartoon, where we get to hear what dogs call themselves. He would have been The Grand Rex, Sh*tter of Beds.
 

ChrisDowning

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"I think I bled enough to clean the wound" hahahahaha you wouldn't want to be negative about this lunatic dog then!? Jeez!!!
 

Lefty Addams

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Well he did warn you, he knows the dog better than you.

Having said that, the owner hasn't corrected his dog of this anti-social trait.
 

Tonetele

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Dogs like me. Seriously. They will come to rest by me even when there are several others present. I'm a bit of a " Dog Whisperer". One the you should never do is have a hand above its jaw or head. Always keep your hand under the jaw so they can sniff, smell and lick you. It gives them a sense of control. Be slow and patient doing this- they don't like domination. So, my fiend, try that in future. I'd almost guarantee success. Scratch them gently under the chin and give them time, jerky if you have some. Present food with an open palm.
 

jman72

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What about "do not touch the dog" didn't you understand?

Good dog. Ahh, kidding. Hope your hand is alright.

When I was young I rented a room with this highly dysfunctional family. They had a HUGE German Shepard named "Leafy". Evil Beast From Hell would have been more accurate.

I'm in the camp that all dogs are good. Still need to beware of traumatized dogs, and maybe very old dogs with pain, blindness, hearing loss, etc. But in this case, it wasn't the dog that was traumatized. It was everyone else.

They had this tiny, narrow kitchen counter against the wall, with stools where you'd pull up and eat breakfast. No room underneath. Well, my first day, Leafy takes this opportunity to ensure I'm aware that the bottom rung of the pecking ladder is mine, and mine alone. I didn't see him coming. Somehow he got his big frame under there. I first noticed the warmth on my crotch. The fleeting "hey, that feels pretty good" disappeared when I looked down and saw those evil eyes looking up at me. He was looking in such a way that his eyes rolled up, while his mouth remained firmly planted you know where. As soon as I make eye contact, the growling starts. Too quiet for anyone but me to hear. Without moving quickly, I pleaded for help.

"Oh Leafy, stop that..."

Yeah Leafy. Stop that, and go play in traffic. Jeez.


Every time the family would go out, they'd barricade (I mean this literally) Leafy in the kitchen. The door was a mess from the constant battering. I was witness to this - after the family left, it was as if I wasn't there. His sole focus, and the outlet for immense rage, was to break down the door. Which he eventually did. Every time. This had to be a 120 lb dog, and there was a good ten feet of runway to get up steam. He'd hit the door, hard. Repeatedly. Maybe fifteen minutes of this, and it would bust open, either breaking the lock, the door itself, or the bar they would try to place across it. Sometimes the entire door would just be sent flying, to lie flat on the hallway floor.

Successful, Leafy would then proceed to go upstairs and take a dump on each family member's bed. Never mine. Just his captors.


Last story: one day Leafy got out, and was cruising the neighborhood, looking for prey. Next thing we knew, there's a knock on the front door, and it's a nicely dressed gentleman, with a briefcase, umbrella, and bowler hat (really) who was walking down the sidewalk, on his way to the train. (This was Swarthmore, PA, a nice tree-lined-street college town). Seems he had met Leafy on the sidewalk, reached down to give him a pat, and >CLAMP< the dog got his entire hand in those massive jaws, and refused to give it back. Then he brought him home. A new toy? Can I keep it?

I have no idea why they kept the dog. I can't imagine the hate going through that dog's mind. And why? They never once mistreated him - nor would they have.

Reminds me of the Far Side cartoon, where we get to hear what dogs call themselves. He would have been The Grand Rex, Sh*tter of Beds.
This takes me back to my days when I lived in Jackson Hole, WY in the late '90s. I used to travel up to Missoula MT every few months to train for a few days at a time at an Aikido dojo there. I would usually stay with someone from the dojo, sleeping on a couch or on a floor to save money.

One week I accepted the kind offer from this young couple to stay with them in their spare bedroom. When I got to their house (after a long drive from Jackson), I was informed that they had two VERY large and VERY aggressive Irish Wolfhounds that lived in the house. I was also told that they would likely tear me apart if they found me alone in the house, so during the day while the couple was at work, they locked the two dogs in their bedroom so that I could come and go without being killed.

Naturally, I was terrified of this arrangement, and each morning when I would leave the house to go train at the dojo, I would slowly open my bedroom door (hoping that the dogs had been put away and that I wasn't about to be eaten). As soon as the dogs heard me, they would start slamming into their bedroom door (where they were locked in) snarling and barking like crazy, trying to break the door down to get to me. I would then sprint through the living room to the front door, where I would escape before the two Cujos could get out of their room and eat me alive.

Never stayed there again, and count myself lucky to have survived the week.🙁
 

moosie

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This takes me back to my days when I lived in Jackson Hole, WY in the late '90s. I used to travel up to Missoula MT every few months to train for a few days at a time at an Aikido dojo there. I would usually stay with someone from the dojo, sleeping on a couch or on a floor to save money.

One week I accepted the kind offer from this young couple to stay with them in their spare bedroom. When I got to their house (after a long drive from Jackson), I was informed that they had two VERY large and VERY aggressive Irish Wolfhounds that lived in the house. I was also told that they would likely tear me apart if they found me alone in the house, so during the day while the couple was at work, they locked the two dogs in their bedroom so that I could come and go without being killed.

Naturally, I was terrified of this arrangement, and each morning when I would leave the house to go train at the dojo, I would slowly open my bedroom door (hoping that the dogs had been put away and that I wasn't about to be eaten). As soon as the dogs heard me, they would start slamming into their bedroom door (where they were locked in) snarling and barking like crazy, trying to break the door down to get to me. I would then sprint through the living room to the front door, where I would escape before the two Cujos could get out of their room and eat me alive.

Never stayed there again, and count myself lucky to have survived the week.🙁
Wow, a girlfriend of mine, many years ago, had an Irish, and what a sweet dog! I can't imagine her chewing anyone up - well, unless they were hurting either of us. Then look out, I guess.

I drove a 69 VW Bug back then, and the dog sat in the back seat, her big wet nose making marks all over the windshield.
 




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