DOG
 

Pretty damn cool.

I avoided that video when I came across it in my surfings...but, it didn't end like I thought it would.

I'm still not ready for dying pet stories yet.

I'm generally opposed to them myself, unless they involve saving an entire orphanage, or the planet from aliens.

He's gonna need a bigger treadmill.

I look after a Chocolate Labrador three days a week and when his owners are away so he spends almost as much time with me as he does at home.
A while back, he was recovering from a leg operation and needed hydrotherapy which involved walking on a treadmill in a water tank, the idea being that it strengthens the limbs without putting too much of a load on the joints.
I took him to the local veterinary centre for this therapy and while I know him to be a clever and wise old boy, I wasn't prepared for what happened.
He entered the tank, the water was let in and the treadmill was started.
Finding the prospect of exercise a bit too much like hard work, he managed to straddle the moving belt and parked his paws on the non-moving edges.
After some persuasion, he reluctantly agreed to follow the rules.

http://s7.postimg.org/vxdit8fiz/DSC00566.jpg

Hahaha

Carrot's hydrotherapy was with the treadmill. He was really good and cooperative as long as I draped my arms over the edge and coaxed him along with biscuits. He used the step on the sides trick when he got tired.

I don't see how that setup in the picture can reduce the force on the joints. I imagine the intention is to relieve how heavy the body is as it's partially supported by the water. But the part of the dog that's in the water isn't positively buoyant. How is there any reduction of stress on the joints achieved? More resistance, sure, as the hairy dog legs have to work harder to get through the water step by step by step. But the dog's got just as much weight on his feet in that water there as he does on dry land.

So you're saying the whole weight of the ship when it's floating is still on the anchor? I don't think so.http://cellar.org/2012/nono.gif
On each step, when then foot/paw hits the deck every joint in jarred by the weight of the critter. Buoyancy of the body reduces that shock. Moving through the water is harder work for the muscles, but that's the point, work the muscles without destroying the joints.

I noticed Carruthers is an old hand at dealing with needy creatures.

No, I'm not saying anything about your imaginary boat at anchor. A floating boat at anchor with slack in the chain has no downward pressure on the anchor chain, duh.

On each step, when the foot/paw hits the deck, all the joints are jarred; agreed. Buoyancy reduces that shock; agreed.

My point is there's no buoyancy at work in the picture above. How much positive buoyancy do you experience when you stand in water up to your crotch? I'm guessing zero, just like with the dog in the picture. Bones and muscle are denser than water and that's all that is displacing the water in the picture. Fat and air are less dense than water, that's where you get your buoyancy from and I don't see anything about that dog that suggests that there's much fat or air under the water, buoying him up, relieving pressure on his joints. *That's* my point.

If the doggy was in water up to his chest, different story.

OK, I see your concern. It looks to me like the chest is fully submerged, but back by the hips of course it would take deeper water because of the way dogs are built. A swimming dog would level out but of course this one's not swimming. Maybe the motion of the treadmill causes the water to move causing a bow wave, and the mutt is body surfing. :cool:

Labs are the best!

The water supports the dog's weight it doesn't take away all impact but lessens to the point that the impact is not jarring the joints.



It's also about balance and foot placement. They're having to be much more conscious of their movements.

I think at the time I took that photo, the tank was still filling.
It's a couple of years back (March 2013) so I can't be sure.

Yes, dogs, horses and, this very afternoon, elderly neighbours.

You are a good egg, Carruthers. I wish you lived in my neighborhood.

Thank you, sir!

You missed sobbing Sundaes off the list, Carr.
Although technically that was yesterday (okay, most days!)

Got this from The Dog's Trust via email today.
Seemed apposite.
Music only, if you want to turn it down and wactch in public/ at work.

.

I take issue with this video because the guy then gave the dog away. He left her because he wanted to be elsewhere. Yet he posted as if he were a hero.

They are dog fosterers. They make sure the dogs are socialized and safe before asking the public to adopt.

A PET'S TEN COMMANDMENTS.........

1.My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2.Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3.Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4.Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.
5.Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6.Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7.Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to.
8.Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.
9.Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.
10.On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

buster. thank you for making me cry tonight, you old dog you....

*sob*

The Dog's Trust rocks.

Our Nelle came from the Leeds branch

When I was a puppy. This is long.
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and, despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.

Whenever I was ‘bad’, you’d shake your finger at me and ask, ‘How could you?’ – but then you’d relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream, (I only got the cone because ‘ice cream is bad for dogs’, you said,) and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a ‘dog person’ – still, I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then human babies came along and I shared your excitement.

I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only, she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.

Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a ‘prisoner of love’. As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch – because your touch was now so infrequent – and I would’ve defended them with my life, if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered, ‘yes’ and changed the subject. I had gone from being ‘your dog’ to ‘just a dog’ and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You’ve made the right decision for your ‘family’, but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, ‘I know you will find a good home for her’.

They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with ‘papers’. You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, ‘No, Daddy! Please don’t let them take my dog!’ And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, ‘How could you?’

They are as attentive to us in here at the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that had changed your mind – that this was all a bad dream, or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her into a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.

As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, ‘How could you?’ Perhaps, because she understood my dogspeak, she said, ‘I’m so sorry’. She hugged me and hurriedly explained that it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself – a place of love and light, so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her, with a thump of my tail, that my ‘How could you?’ was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

Now you made me cry.

Yup, that one hit home and made me cry.
I still believe I killed Diz by leaving him.

Keep the dog hair off the upholstery.

That's pretty cool. See, if Mitt Romney had done that instead of strapping the dog to the roof, he wouldn't have gotten so much grief.

Bb, you made me cry too.

I love my dogs, each of them. I hate being separate from them and I worry for them every day. I follow the Canine Ten Commandments and always have. I have turned down apartments and even nice hotels because I have a furry companion. I would refuse to move if I could not take my bestest friend with me. I have even turned down good parking in favor of a dirty, muddy lot because it was safer for the dog, if not for me.

Dogs rock.

Pamela! Hiya:) How are you?

Some dogs suffer failure to communicate.

If you spray that on all the things he likes to chew, he'll associate the smell with excellent chewing!

Hahahahah


I got some anti-chew spray when Carrot was a pup. The little bastard liked the taste and licked it all off before gettting down to some serious chewing. It basically acted as an appetiser.


Little sod.

In the end I smeared Vicks Vaporub all over the wooden furniture, bannister rail and so on - that stopped him. But it was like living inside a cough sweet for a couple of months.

Truth in labeling.

That is no chew deterrent, for sure.

UT's younger self. :haha:

That's awesome.

That poor doggie looks frightened.

No problem, his nose knows. :haha:

Expressions tell you a lot, not like those sneaky things that shall not be named. :p:

Why we can have nice things.

This's the late Anvil shooters' dog and chicken. Guess the bird fell off chicken truck. Dog found and brought to shop. They were always together.

Just saw other dog in upper left hand, Looks like it's got bird on it's mind? Dog is unknown by me, or I forgot. Maybe ran over by chicken truck.

gives an entirely new perspective on the term "bird dog".

thumbs up to both!

http://s18.postimg.org/5ivq21fnt/potd_dog_3343808k.jpg

My old Black Lab was adopted from a local dogs' home and he was the most gentle creature imaginable.

http://s9.postimg.org/rywpv44cv/image.png

Labs don't care what color they are... or even if one their parents was French.

They're friendly dogs despite their tendencies to please humans.

Never heard that about dogs but often about black shelter cats.

Speaking of labs ...

:D

But so many phases pop into mind with that.

... like the Army's: " Be All That You Can Be "

Now she'll just have to settle being white.

No she won't, Haven't you heard? She's transblack.

aka: transmogrification

(I just always wanted to find a way to use that word)

Carruthers, that is a beautiful dog sir.

He was a good friend as well. His bed was next door to the bookcase and when he wanted to shift his position, he'd put a back foot 'overboard' and push away until he was comfortable.
The bookcase still bears the scratch marks in his memory.

Dogs in 18th century Virginia.

I want to snuggle with him! So cutie!!!!!

https://youtu.be/clbC3belz9c

Looks like a Samoyed. My buddy had one that would get so exited it would piss on the floor every time he came home from work. :haha:

http://s29.postimg.org/mgt9qxlef/Buz...1_3351840b.jpg

Meet Glenn and Buzz, two dogs with a very special relationship.
Buzz, a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, is Glenn’s very own ‘guide dog’. He has been seen leading Glenn while on walks, helping him find his food and assisting him getting into bed.

http://s16.postimg.org/i3skibtnp/115...08814000_n.png

The pair were recently found abandoned in a sea tunnel in Hartlepool, County Durham, and were rescued by Stray Aid, a rehoming centre for dogs in Coxhoe.

The dogs are believed to be roughly 10 years old and it is thought they were abandoned because of their age and Glenn’s vision problems.

Hannah Critchlow, a Stray Aid volunteer, told ABC News: “They instantly had a bond when they came in, so we kept them together. Whenever they're separated they start crying and barking for each other.”

"They have to stay together," she added.

http://s30.postimg.org/5nrb9ugnl/potd_dogs_3351889k.jpg

Daily Telegraph

ABC