I wanted to start a thread to help us out a little, with some comedy relief. Please share your stories about funny antics that your babies got into and up to - I think this will be a good way to help us carry on in grief.

I'll start. Now, this story has to do with our dogs Dawson and Corky - who are both still around although Corky is slowly fading (as is Dawson but don't tell him!).

Corky is our beagle who is approx. 15 years old and he's blind as a bat now. He just wanders around and stares off into space whereever he happens to stop - can't see a thing, but he just stands there staring.

Dawson (who is 14 - he looks like a 58 lb dachsund! - he's not fat, it's just that whatever mix he is - Corgi, lab? - heaven knows - he looks just like a dachsund on steroids!) - anyway, he's in a crate during the day when we're not here, so that's become his "room".

Well, apparently, Corky wanders over to the front of Dawson's crate while Dawson's stuck in there and just stares at him - not that he sees anything mind you, but apparently to Dawson, that's the canine aggression stare. So, Dawson now has a vendetta going against Corky - we have to constantly keep the 2 of them separated, but sometimes, when our backs are turned - Dawson will run over to whereever Corky is and just "mouth" him with a growl - he doesn't actually bite Corky - he's just trying to intimidate him - then Corky will squeal - well, whenever we catch it - we make Dawson go to his room for some "time out". So the past few times (over some months - not like all the time) that this has happened, Dawson turns away, SHAKING HIS HEAD! and TAKES HIMSELF TO HIS OWN ROOM!

Oh, my God!!!! It is the funniest thing! I have actually had to leave the room because I'm doubled over, laughing! But, of course, I don't want Dawson to see this!

I really wish y'all could see it. I think I have the only self disciplining, self-time out dog out there!

God love him! He's a mess!

Jan, What a great idea! I would love to hear good stories about our animal companions.

Stymy's store:
When I got Stymy his previous own told me I would have to watch him because he was smart enough to be able to open his kennel. She told me she need to have a lock put on his kennel every night or he would open it and get out.

Well my next door neighbor who had an outside dog (Snowball) would give Stymy treats when she would feed her dog. Well one day as she was feeding Snowball, Stymy decided he didn't have enough to eat for dinner, he walked over to Snowballs pen and open his cage like he was walking in someones door and started eating Snowball's food. Well, he startled my neighbor and almost let her dog out of her cage, but there was never a dull moment when food was around.

Stymy's Mom - that's a great story! That boy knew what he wanted!!! I can just hear him now "You know, my mom nnnevvvvvvvverrr feeds me!"

That's what our guys try to pull off too!


Thanks for sharing that!

I love this idea!!! Happy times.

Speaking of food. My cat Bronte developed a very peculiar taste.... <_<
For Twizzlers licorice. I don't know how it started, but it got to the point where I couldn't open a package 50 feet away without her coming running and crying. If I had a twizzler hanging out of my mouth she'd try to bat at it and either rip it out of my mouth, or chew on the end of it. Maybe that's why she weighed 15 lbs. Either way she was a licorice snob. She would only eat Twizzlers, not red vines, nor generic candy. Only the best for her.

Chili Bean has done many things in her life time but I guess the one
that scared my husband and I the most and yet at the same time
sent us into big fits of laughter was when we went to the store
and came home and Chili Bean did not come to greet us. She always
came running as fast as her little legs could carry her. I called out to
her and heard frantic barking and a scratching noise.

I looked around and saw her nose sticking out of a 30 pound garbage bag
that my husband had brought into the house to fill up and had forgot
to take it out when we left. I screamed to my husband she was in the
garbage bag and we tore the bag open and garbage went all over the
kitchen floor along with Chili Bean.

Somehow she must have crawled onto the chair and fell in and in her
struggle to dig her way out was halfway down the bag. The strap was
on the door knob and it closed the bag. We hugged and kissed her
when she tumbled out with the garbage and gave her a much needed bath.

Because she was alright we laughed the whole time we picked
up the trash and put it in another bag. You can bet we never left
anymore trash out for her to get into, through the years we always
joked with her and asked her if she wanted to do anymore trash picking.
Ann

Misty taught herself how to open bi-fold doors and pocket doors (she never figured out doorknobs, thank goodness).

Why?
So she could get in the linen closet and sleep on the nice soft (and clean) towels!

tribble used to play fetch with a loosely knotted mass of yarn called 'the rat'. he would run after it and bring
it back, belly swinging to and fro, and then growl when i tried to retrieve it from his mouth. hence the nickname
'tribbydog.' on an aside, i pulled yarn out his back end more than once, not a fun activity

Ava wasn't the quickest dog to pick up on tricks (not sure if she was just being stubborn or what) but I finally taught her to 'pretty' (balancing, sitting up and begging). Eventually she got spontaneous about it when there was food involved that she wanted. I always got a chuckle watching her try and sit up on a linoleum (sp?) floor. She'd had to push off with her front paws in order to get into that balanced position and she had so much trouble because her paws would keep slipping. It was never a problem on a surface where she could get a good foot hold.

When I'd take her out in the bush with me for work after the first snow falls, she would just stick her face into the snow past her ears. I never knew why she did this but assumed she smelled something under the snow. She'd also roll and push herself through the snow like an otter does which always made me laugh too.

When Ava was about a year old, I had her spayed. The vet put a large plastic collar on her to keep her from working at the stitches. Her nickname for the that time became 'bucket head' because it was the same material that ice cream buckets were made of. She had a heck of time getting used it for the week or so that she had to wear it. She would crash into things because it partially obscured her vision when she would getting into a romping/playful mood. She never hurt herself but it was sure humerous for me to watch. Ok maybe I'm a little twisted but I thought it was funny.

Thanks for sharing!!!

Gort - your post made me laugh - thanks!

Jan

Hey Jan,
Just wanted you to know that I haven't laughed this much since I lost my little dachshund, Baby. That story about Dawson being a 58lb dachshund on steroids was too funny. That was great, I really needed that laugh, thanks!
Linda

On Guy Fawkes night I kept my cats inside so they would be safe. It was a warm night, however, so I left the kitchen window slightly open on the latch. I thought, 'Well, no-one can get out thru' here' . My friend and I turned our backs for a minute or two, and meanwhile my BIG cat, Sprite had somehow managed to squeeze his way out thru' this tiny opening. He must have put his shoulder into it and shoved like heck! Thinking, "Well, I want to go out, so I'm going out! I'm a cat, and to heck with the consequences!'

From Lizann and Sprite

Linda,

I'm so glad I made you smile!


When people ask what type of dog Dawson is, my DH (who is the funniest person on earth to me!) will look at them and quite seriously tell them that we used to be in the animal rights movement and we rescued Dawson from a research lab where they were doing steroid experiments.

OMG!!!!!!!!! The first time he did this I about wet my pants!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Now, PLEASE, don't anyone think we're making light of animal research. As a matter of fact, we were quite heavily involved in the animal rights movement for most of the '90s (not anything illegal mind you) - but, I could not take the anger and the pain 24 / 7, knowing what was going on but not really being able to do anything to change it - I had to get out to save my sanity.

But, I just love seeing the looks on people's faces when Mike (my husband) tells them this about Dawson!
(And, maybe, just maybe, it makes them think too!)

This is a great topic!! All of the stories brought a smile to my face.

Kona's had many funny stories, but one that sticks out is the home-made bread "incident". Kona was the biggest food seeker I've encountered and bread was a particular favorite. She was a big dog, big enough to reach counters on her back legs. She didn't do that often, but when the prize was right, she'd go for it. Well, we made a loaf of bread in the bread machine. We took it out and cut 2 pieces for dinner. Off we went to eat dinner. When we came back to clean up, we didn't really notice anything. Each of us thought the other one had put the bread away. We were enjoying our evening with Kona laying contentedly at our feet when we found the paddle from the bread machine in the middle of the floor. It was then that we realized that the loaf of bread had been put away in Kona's tummy. That still makes me laugh.

Susan

Shiloh was so smart and such a sneak.

About 2 months after we moved into our new house, Shiloh was nosing around in the garage and found a box that I'd not unpacked. I hadn't unpacked it because it had some of her more obnoxious toys in it (you know, the ones that squeek really loudly or the ones that have tons of fiber stuffing in them). Well, she took it upon herself to unpack this box unbeknowst to me. It just so happened that Shiloh's unpacking took place about the same time of year that my classes (I teach high school biology) are dissecting fetal pigs (yes, I feel terrible about this dissection, but I still have to do it...it's in the curriculum. I do find a little comfort in knowing that these little pigs would have died anyway...sows that are sent to slaughter are pregnant because they weigh more...it still makes me very sad though ).
Anyway, one night I was working on my computer and looked out the sliding glass door and saw what looked like a fetal pig laying on the ground. My first thought was one of absolute fear..."Somehow my students know where I live and they put a dead pig on my door step!" I went running outside to get a closer look at this "pig," and found that it was nothing more than one of Shiloh's toys that she dug out of the box...her stuffed elephant puppet.

That little elephant puppet became her favorite toy. We called it her "baby." All I'd have to do is say "Shiloh, where is your baby?" No matter where it was, outside or inside, she'd find it and bring it to me. She carried bits and pieces of it around up until the very end. As a matter of fact, I put a little piece of that elephant in her urn with her.

One evening my son was sitting in the chair doing something with his fishing pole, Moose seemed so obsessed with this fishing pole so my son got the idea to tie a treat on the end of the fishing line. That's all it took for Moose he was going to get that treat no matter what. So my son is sitting in the chair bouncing the treat from one side of the room to the other with Moose in hot pursuit. Then he gets the treat, he's smart enough to know he cant open his mouth cause he will lose the treat as my son has tention on the line. So Moose swings his head from side to side and pole is making the sound of catching a big one. Well it only takes a few minutes for Moose to start foaming at the mouth, it was the funniest thing I have ever seen him do. After that every time my son would come over Moose would go straight to the closet and stare at it cause he knew the pole was in there. That's one I wish I would have filmed. Pamela

We got our Christmas tree today and it reminded me of Misty's first Christmas in 1991...

We had put up the tree, and one day after having gone out, we came home and Misty was nowhere to be found. We looked all over the house, under and behind all the furniture and appliances (since she was a hider from day one). About the time we were starting to seriously panic, we heard a rustling and saw some movement in the Christmas tree...and there was Misty waking up from a nap on one of the branches.

I'll never forget the day my husband picked Goliath up from the Humane Society.

The place I worked at was very informal, and he was allowed to bring the then 4-week-old puppy into the building to my desk to greet me. Goliath was so happy to meet me that, in his anxiousness to be held and hugged, he accidentally hit me in the eye (his paws were quite large, even at that early age). The next day, many of my coworkers asked me if my husband had hit me because I had a black eye!!! (Not everyone knew that he had brought the puppy in).

To this day, we still joke about how Goliath gave Mommy a black eye!!

I don't know if these qualify as funny stories or bad stories or a combination of the 2, but here goes: Elvis first started getting into trouble as a pup. One night when I was out (I was still living with my parents at the time) my parents were doing laundry. Elvis grabbed one of my mom's white knee-high stockings. My father said the more he chased Elvis, the quicker he swallowed it. Needless to say I had to poke his poop with a stick for the next few days to make sure he passed it.

He seems to get into trouble when no one is paying attention to him.

Once while I was in the shower I left my bottles of insulin on my night table. I came out to find that he had grabbed a bottle, chewed the lid off, and was now licking the insulin up. Luckily he didn't get sick. Another shower episode occurred. He somehow managed to open my gym bag, pull out a package of unopened Hostess cup cakes, and proceed to eat them in my bed. I found the wrapper that night when I went to sleep. Of course he has done more. Eating an entire role of Rolaids, stealing my ex-girlfriends hoagie when she went to get some soda, peeing inside a brand new pair of Timberland boots (incredible aim, I must say), and now in his old age, worst of all, he has made a habit of grabbing (gross!!!) "snacks" out of the cat's litterbox!!!!!

Love the stories... Steve's Elvis sounds a lot like my boxer girl Faith... she is always getting in to trouble!! We adopted her at the shelter 3 years ago..she is 6 now. She was badly neglected and sick. She had a "police record" and had been picked up around town several times and her owner warned that she was sick and needed treatment. My husband lovingly calls her "that street dog!" because are 9 year old lab is so well behaved and would never drink out of the toilet, get into the trash, ect ect!!
Anyway... Faith's immune system is permanently impaired because of her previous owner almost starving her to death. She has pemanent demodectic mange that requires daily medication, baths and special diet. The special diet part is what is funny..cause she's alway finding something to eat.
My teenage son was watching tv up his room with her one day last year after Christmas... he left for 5 minutes to get something from downstairs. Faith managed to get a big bucket full of chocolate coins off the top of his dresser... take it into my room across the hall and start devouring it.. She actually managed to open the aluminum wrappers and leave those and eat chocolate. She ate quite a bit before we found out what she was up to.
I was mortified...our local vet had donated 5 weeks hospital time and all this other medical care to save her life from her previous owner and I thought she would die from eating chocolate at my house!! She got her stumach pumped and the vet said that there were lots of things beside food coming out... oh my!
I understand about the girlfriends hoagie... my son brought back fast food for his sister..when she came into the kitchen it was gone...devoured by Faith...

We recently adopted 2 cats, the father (Velvet) and his son (Beau). We knew Beau was going to be an 'interesting' cat when he came prancing into the living room with a pair of underwear in his mouth that he had raided from the hamper. Velvet has his own peculiar style when it comes to eating. He uses his paw like a hand and scoops food into his mouth.

Anyone who wants to see Beau and pictures of Velvet eating can see them at Velvet and Beau

I don't know how he figured this out... I guess by pure chance. One evening I grilled steak for dinner. As I was sitting at the coffee table eating, Opie ran to the front door and barked. I went to the door and spoke to the woman on the porch for a moment. When I returned to the coffee table, Opie was there, enjoying my steak dinner. A few weeks later, I grilled steak again. As I was sitting at the coffee table eating, Opie ran to the front door and barked. I went to the door only to find that no one was there. When I returned to the coffee table, guess who was there? Enjoying MY steak dinner again!

My Zelda was a big black dog. See the big black dog. Every summer she would lay her big butt in the middle of the sunniest part of our yard. She was just sitting there panting like mad and she had this look on her face like she didn't know why she was so hot.

She also used to bark at my mirror when she was a puppy to try to scare away that other dog in the mirror. It was so cute. She always barked at nothing too. She musta freaked out every time a fly flew by or something.

Thank you for this topic. I've been sitting here in tears, sobbing uncontrollably, until I saw this and was able to laugh at all your furbabies, and remember the funny things my Freeway used to do.
There's so many, it's hard to choose just one. When he was a puppy we had this tiny yellow ball that he loved... one day he and I played a game... I'd throw it down the hallway, he would chase it, grab it, and hide under my brother's bed with it so I couldn't get it back (He rarely figured out the fetch part of the game.. he ran around with the ball in his mouth as you chased him, giving you this look that said nananana you can't have it!!!). My brother was in the shower and when he was done he snuck into his room quietly and closed the door before I knew. So I threw the ball, Freeway ran and grabbed it and all of a sudden I hear this big loud thud as his little head hits the door. I guess he didn't realized it was closed. I ran to see what happened and there was my little tiny puppy, shaking his head, and I'm sure he was seeing stars. It was completely hilarious, of course only because he was ok and a minute later was chasing his ball again.

Daddy Cat used to have this cute trick he did. I would hold out the index and second fingers of one hand and say to Daddy Cat "Give me five". Daddy Cat would raise his paw and tap it against the fingers.

What a great idea! It is nice to smile through the tears on the 3rd month anniversary of my Tico's death. I have so many stories about all my past "kids".
But I'll tell a few about Tico, my mixed breed husky. When he was about 1 year old, we finally felt we could leave him alone without too much house damage.

Wrong!

We arrived home one day to find a field of cotton from the front door to the back. Apparently, Tico had a taste for pillows. So there he was surrounded by clouds of white and a big fluff hanging from his chin like a little man's beard. After our initial shock, we laughed our toes off. He just looked at us with his typical mischievous look that said, "Boy, this was FUN!"

Also, he was bred to be a sled dog and he did love the snow. But he also loved to be warm and his favorite place in the house was right in front of the heat vent.
So, unlike his father who actually ran in the Ididerod, Tico was probably never destined to endure below zero weather. Of course we loved this about hima as we loved everything about him.

Ken I visited your web page and I can't get over how funny the Daddy Cat songs story is. It's so adorable.

To be honest, your Daddy Cat sounds a lot like our baby Pushkin was. Except we got him when he was just 6 months old and he'd never really known a tough life. It started out in a scary shelter but he was with his mom, and then he was in a great foster home with his siblings and finally we got him. So he wasn't a tough kitty at all.

In fact some of the funniest stuff we'd see him do had to do with his innocence of all things bad or scary. If anyone accidentally stepped on his tail or toes he would run like the dickens and hide, taking this event to be a terrible tragedy for all of 5 minutes. Then he'd completely forget about it.

I didn't sing to him but I used to hold him in my arms and dance with Pushkin. I would rub his little chin and he'd go into such a happy trance that he'd looked like he was about to start drooling!

Pushkin had a hilarious love of small spaces. If he could squish himself into a nook or a cranny that was the height of his day! If there was a little box he could climb into he'd jump in it right away and then purr like crazy for the longest time. His mission was accomplished. If no box could be found he would find a spot between my husband and me and use his little head to shove us aside to create just enough space for him to snuggle in. Last week he'd actually invented a new "tunnel" position (as we like to call all his hiding/burrowing activities), when my husband and I would sit on the couch watching movies he realized he could squish himself onto my shoulder and my husband's shoulder--like a bridge connecting us. He'd sit there with his head on my husband's shoulder, his bum under my chin! And of course he would purr like crazy and feel pleased as punch with himself. And we loved it.

The other thing about baby Smooshies was his hunting behaviour. He was too gentle to ever really hunt anything but he really couldn't let a toe past him without claiming it as his own. So we would often walk by our little tubby Pushie lying on the ground looking like he's sleepy, and then a tiny paw would dart out and place itself on our foot. If you caught the look on his face when he did it it was always the same. It was a "I could put more effort into this but I think we've already established before that I got you. And I will get you every time."

He also loved drinking water from the tap. In fact he loved the bathroom in general. He was always either sitting in the sink watching us get ready in the bathroom, or he would jump into the tub and expect to be played hide and seek with through the shower courtain (which he was never denied) or he'd sit there staring at the spot where the wall meets the floor waiting for the emergence of a silverfish. They blew his mind! He couldn't get over them existing and would wait for hours a day just for a chance to spot one.

There were so many other things he did that cracked us up, like playing toss the ball with us, chasing strings and the usual amazing things kitties do that steal our hearts so completely. It's hard to think about them right now actually, but I thought I would just say how helpful it is to be here and to read other people's stories of happiness and loss. I hope we can all get to a point where the pain fades and all we're left with is these silly memories of our best furry buds.

My Nadir LOVED kids and between me and my sisters. there could be as many as seven of them rampaging around...plus friends! So it was no wonder that he played with people toys rather than dog toys.

But there's this little green ride-on train thing that my daughter just LOVED even before she could walk and on the steering wheel is this enormous red squeaker. Whenever she hit it, Nadir would start wagging his tail and barking and licking her arm. Nadir eventually figured out how to squeak the "horn" on his own and if we ever DARED to go to bed and forget to leave the door open, he would squeak that thing over and over until we opened the door and let him into our room. It was like his little signal which he used to call the humans.

This is a good thread, it made me smile to remember the good things, thanks so much!

Let's see...a funny story about my Kurby. I have so many.....

Kurby would follow me to the bathroom and sit with his little head ##ed to the side looking at me. Some days he would even bark at me as to say "hurry up!" Well, he was irritating me one day and I decided to pick up the plunger and stick it to the floor in front of me to see what he would do. He took off running. He was scared of the plunger! So, every time after that, when I wanted some private time in the bathroom, all I would have to do is reach back in the direction of the plunger and he took off running....in the other direction!

my homie was quite the ladys man, ,well as much of one as a cat could be. he never groomed himself that was ladys work nor did he ever once cover up his poo, again that was ladys work. if i didnt do it for him my sisters cat gabby would. later he had another lady to help care for him- whiskey. homie saved all of his energy for mischief and mayhem. once i had not fed him as fast as he would have liked. i was doing dishes before bed and was going to feed him as soon as i was done. homie liked to go outside to potty unless it was cold or very hot so i had let him out to potty until dinner time. well things are going well, im looking out the window just daydreaming then all of a sudden a huge orange blob comes flying at the window- sticks to it and screams MEROW! i scream, homie is still hanging on the window screen and he starts screaming again-MEROW! i slip and fall down shrieking. he lets go of the screen and take a flying leap at the back door screen while howling. im still on the ground, and he when he hit the backdoor i start flailing about wailing and the commotion brought my mom running naked from the shower, she slides across the tile and about knocks herself out on the refrigerator. homie has long since dropped off the back door, i open it and he is just sitting on the porch looking as cute and innocent as can be. as cool as a cu%%ber he saunters in and politly asks where his supper is. we both lost it. he almost scared me to death, my mom is dripping wet and has a huge knot on her forehead and here he sits just as calm as can be. i told my mom what started it and she just loses it, all she saw was him hanging on the backdoor and me spazing on the ground, she didnt know he ambushed me at the window.

moral of the story dont feed you pets late, they just might pay you back.

Oh WOW!!!!!!!!!!!
I just found LS recently and have really been diving in. Ive had a rough time recently, and this site is really good medicine. I have been online for a couple hours just reading, and writing to poeple, crying for me, and them. I am so happy that I found this post. It has made me smile, and laugh so hard, my sides hurt, and my cats are looking at me like im crazy. It is such a great topic, and I hope that people will continue to post stories, I know we all cry alot, but it is soo great to know that we all can Laugh alot.
So in the spirite of this line of posts i will share too.
From the moment we got our cat Cheddar we knew he was the sweetest kitty we ever knew. But as time went on we discovred he wasn't very bright. He would play with doors, till they shut on him, and he was trapped, and had to be resucued, usally after a couple hours of wondering where he was and calling him. When we fiannly would find him he would be frantic, and rubbing on our legs, but he wouldn't cry to be let out. He would just sit there and wait. He loved the bathtub, and even after jumping in the tub, full of water, never learned to look befor he leaped. But one day our opinion changed, and we discovred he wasn't as dim as he let on. My husband was getting ready for work early one morning, and had taken a long shower. Our bathroom door is always open when it is just us and the cats at home because the litter boxes are in ther, and they freak if the door is closed even for a minute. Long showers tend to make our windows fog because of this. So after his long shower and getting dressed, my husband noticed that he had fogotten to open cheddars shade, so he could look out the window. Cheddar was waiting patiently, so my husband opened the shade. The window was all fogged up, and cheddar couldnt see out, so our sweet dim boy, takes his paw, and proceedes to wipe the condensation off the window, in a sopt large enough for his veiw. he then Licked the water off his paw in a self satified way, and set to gazing out. My husband laughed so hard, and so did I when he told me(I was still sound asleep in bed). We knew from that day on, he was brighter than he let on, just a little less observant than most.

My Bobo had a unique way of saying she was really happy and that she liked someone. It was to sneeze.

She happy sneezed and if she really liked you, she sneezed on you. I have some friends who had been covered in doggy snot.

If she didn't like you, I swear, she made it a habit to fart near that person and give them her "angry peripheral stare."

We live on a private lake in Michigan where we are surrounded by many of God's creatures big and small. Goliath and Gidget love to go out on the boat with my hubby and me. They get so excited when I say "Who wants to go out on the boat?"

Last summer we were out on the boat with our picnic basket full of goodies for all of us. We spent the entire day just enjoying each other. When it was time to come in we got out of the boat and grabbed our belongings. After having my hubby pass Goliath and Gidget over the side of the boat to me, I put them on the dock. They know they are to stay there and follow us up to the house.

When we reached the house I turned around and Goliath was nowhere in sight. At first I panicked. Then I called his name. His little head popped out of the cattails and he headed toward me. I opened the door and he followed me up the stairs to the main level of our home. When I looked behind me I saw black pawprints all the way up the carpeted stairs. I looked down and here was Goliath covered in black muck right up to his neck. I promply picked him up and took him to the sink and gave him a much needed bath. The look on his face was priceless! It was like he was saying, "MOM IT ISN'T EVEN SATURDAY NIGHT."

My long-ago Bombay Cat, merlin was a funny one.
One day I was walking by a big bag of kibble that properly belonged to the dogs. I heard strange crunching noises inside the bag, looked in, and saw him happliy trying to work his way down to the bottom. By eating.

Merlin, aka "Merle", 1977 to July 30, 1989.


This one shows why we had trouble with having a Christmas Tree when Merlin was alive. By the time we got Murphy, the Norwegian Forest Cat, it was all over.
There was also the matter of a glittery sandbox.