Funny Dog Stories

Funny or Horrendous Dog Stories

Everyone has a story to tell about their dog. Has your dog mortified you in public? Perhaps done something that caused you to drop your jaw in shock? Have you been the victim of bad dog owners and you'd like to kvetch? Share your stories of good and bad dog etiquette and read about others.

To submit your story e-mail us. You may attach pictures as well. Any bad language will be filtered with #@$% characters. :)

This page was begun because of the Siberian Husky in the above picture that I, the webmaster, was fostering for my sister-in-law. The first story is mine, the rest are from submitters.

 

A Husky and the Litterbox

This is not your ordinary dog-in-the-litterbox-ewwww-that's-so-gross story. Oh no this one is different. And a bit embarassing to share with the world, but I will share it.

To fully understand the genius of this dog I must explain my cats' bathroom and eating habits. I have two cats, Lord Byron and Lady Spots. Lord Byron has a covered litterbox because he likes to be hidden sometimes, he eats only cooked meat. Lady Spots has an open litterbox and eats raw meat like the dogs. Spots' litterbox is changed more frequently than Byron's because it is oh so necessary as Byron does also use hers. The two boxes are side by side.

My dogs are fed raw, and the night before each dog received two thigh/leg pieces. I was getting out of the shower and noticed a little trail of kitty litter, but not much, and I didn't think much of it, thinking the cats did it. I went to my chest of drawers to get my lounge-wear when I saw THAT DOG ON MY BED eating a chicken leg. I was thinking "Ewwww, and I just changed and washed the bed linens!" A naked me is running around her trying to get her to get that chicken off my bed. I did NOT want to touch it. Then it hit me.

#1 This chicken was from last night. #2 Skyler had noted EVERYONE'S habits in her short time with us. She had hidden the chicken in Byron's litterbox (ewwwwww) for a day and then came back later to eat it knowing that was the one place no one would find it. Spots never smelled the raw chicken either. I will never underestimate the intelligence of a Husky again.

I was just really grateful that my sister-in-law hadn't come to pick up the dog for a 4 day visit. If hubby didn't change the litterbox within that time frame, there would have been a REALLY bad smell of rotting chicken and I would have never looked in the kitty box OR when it was changed, hubby would have been a bit dumbfounded. Who really expects to see chicken in their cat litter box?

Shiloh's Day at the Nursing Home

DH did the unthinkable. (DH means dear husband, dumb husband, depending on the context).

The last dog show at GMIL's nursing home was such a "success" that they decided to have another one.
(GMIL means grandmother-in-law, MIL means mother-in-law)
And MIL couldn't get herself over how precious it would be for Adam to bring his dog to the show and parade Shi around like a little poodle. So she (pardon the pun, it's totally intended) hounded DH about it until he agreed that he and Adam would bring Shiloh to the nursing home this past Sunday.

But guess who had to go into the office on Sunday? I call to tell MIL that it's a no-go, and she tells me that Shiloh is already registered and we HAVE to go, in her "you will BE there" imperious queen voice.

Well, DH tells me that Adam is soooo looking forward, and it would be soooo disappointing, and, I don't know what the hell got into me, but I figured, ah, what the heck, let's get it over with.

So I packed up his treats, a few plastic baggies, latex gloves, paper towels, and a bowl for water, and Adam and I put Shiloh in the car.

Now I have to admit, he was a very good dog in the car, at least until we got off the turnpike onto the exit to GMIL's nursing home.

There was some sort of construction going on, and the traffic was at a total standstill.

Now MIL was firm -- we had to be there at 1PM SHARP. She never tolerates lateness unless it's her majesty's own, you know. So now it's 12:55, and I'm stuck in a veritable parking lot for some 20 minutes.

And whenever the car stops for a protracted length of time, Shiloh thinks, "Oh boy, time to get out! Gotta go mark something, ooooh BOY!" So he gets all excited, those beagle ears perk right up, and he starts running back and forth across the back seat from side to side, trying to figure out which door is going to open first.

Trouble is, he's running all over Adam's bare legs with his (oops) long toenails. And howling. A beagley howl. So now I'm stuck in the d@mned traffic with a howling beagle and a nine-year old yelling, "OWW! Quit it, Shi! Shi, stop it! Mommy, I can't stand it!!" and having the beginnings of an Asperger-y sensory overload.

I put Shi in front, and just then, we start to move. Shi's so excited he falls into the footwell of the passenger side and now I'm driving and trying to see if he's ok (he was totally fine).

We finally get there, and we're 20 min. late. And of course, Shi has to stop at every possible place, snuffle around, and then pee like he'd never emptied his bladder before. Then he made the biggest poop I'd ever seen. We walked in at 1:25.

Well, we were spared CBF (CBF means cat-butt-face, when someone's face puckers it looks an awful lot like a cat's behind), because apparently all the other doggie mommies were stuck in the same traffic. So we took Shiloh around to meet the residents, and he was fantastic -- gentle and sweet, no signs of hyperactivity. But he's always good with people.

And usually he's great with other dogs.

But not this time.

With everyone arriving in dribs and drabs, the oh so brilliant coordinator hustled all the dog owners and their dogs into a small room to wait until everyone arrived. And this is when the troubles began. Shiloh just HAD to sniff this one huge dog (dam*ed if I know what it was, it may as well have been a horse it was so large) and the dog owner got all hyper. So I pulled Shi away and Adam and I sat down with him across the room, but there was a terrier over there who kept trying to bite him, so we moved again, and by this time, Shiloh was getting really hyper and barking and howling to try to get me to take him over to the other dogs. He started sticking out the pink part of his genitalia, prompting a little girl to ask her mother what was coming out of the doggie, and then he just got so excited by all the other dogs and the negative energy from the other owners (who were pretty standoffish and nasty)...

that he pooped right there on the floor of the community room. Niiiice doggie.

So we got nasty glares as Adam and I mopped up. And honest, he'd just pooped outside not a half hour before!

About another 15 or so minutes pass, and then coordinator (coordinatrix?) announces that we're all going to parade our dogs down the hall, single file.

Well, Shiloh didn't go to Single File School. Single File doesn't mean squat to Shiloh. So he's tugging and pulling at the leash despite my commands and using the right walking technique, trying to get his nose into the butt of the dog in front of him, when he tugs too hard, snaps the button on the extendable leash, breaking it, and makes himself vomit.

And does Shiloh stop walking when he yacks? OH no. Because the extendable leash is now permanently on extend. So Shi keeps walking down the hall, yacking as he goes. And it looks like he yacks pretty much everything he's eaten over the past six years or so, judging from the amount of vomit.

Of course all the other dog owners are repulsed and hysterical, sneering, and once again, I find myself on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. And we couldn't do this outside because why?

Finally, I clean up enough, and Shiloh is allowed to enter the "ring" where he now totally goes berserk.

I have to stop for a moment and assure you, Shiloh is a wonderful dog at home. He's perfectly behaved around the other dogs at the vet's office. He loves and protects Mr. Fuzzy. He's a calm, gentle presence in the house. He's very sweet with babies and young children. He happily lets one of Adam's friend's baby sister pat his ears for long stretches, and never gets hyper when there are a bunch of kids running around the house after Hebrew School (I'm the carpool mom this semester). He knows how to walk on a leash better. He does great at the dog park with the other dogs in the neighborhood.

So I was totally unprepared for this. As the coordinator is announcing the dogs, Shiloh starts whining and making this low moaning sound, trying to get to sniff the other dogs' butts. He begins to wiggle all over and then starts howling again. I swear, the dog needed Ritalin! We had to take him outside and leave MIL and GMIL sitting among the other residents.

Adam and I start walking him outside, and of course he has to mark every possible wall of the nursing home. Finally, we walk around to the front of the home, when Shi spots a likely looking bush and poops right there kind of under and through it. So now I get to clean up yet another humongous poop, and on top of that, one in a bush. GREAT. Just FRICKIN' DANDY.

I bend over to pick it up (remaining horribly aware just how big my butt must look in my white pants as I bend over for what seems like forever, trying to get as much poop out of the bush leaves as possible when Adam yells.

See, I'd flipped the button on the leash, forgetting that the extendable leash was now broken and on permanent extend. So Shiloh trotted happily around the entrance and edge of the parking lot without my being aware, and the extended leash garrotted one of those ridiculous-looking outdoor cigarrette ashcans -- you know, the ones that look like giant baby bottles, they're large at the bottom and long and thin at the top with a hole on either side of the top for tapping out ashes?

Well, I stood there aghast as Shiloh trotted past and the leash garrotted the ashcan, knocking the whole thing over, separating the top from the bottom, and spilling cigarrette ashes all over the entrance way.

Well, now we had a REAL problem, because I had to clean that up. I sent Adam to get a janitor, and once he came, together we picked up after our wonderful mess.

Luckily, the janitor was a doll and managed to figure out what Adam wanted even though by this time he was experiencing so much sensory overload that he was on the verge of a meltdown.
As was I, actually.

We got back to the show just in time for Shiloh's turn in the "ring". Adam trotted him around the family room where he happily snuggled up against all the residents he could, sniffed a few more dog butts, and then refused to do his trick (dancing, sitting, lying down, and then catching a treat in his mouth), being far too excited by all the dog butts. MIL sat there in the family room with GMIL, just pleased as punch with the precious picture of Adam walking Shiloh.

Finally, they awarded the prizes, and gee, what a surprise -- Shiloh was the only dog who didn't get a prize. Gee, never saw that coming. At least the residents loved him...

MIL comes up, pushing GMIL, and announces that it's time to visit with GMIL for a few hours! I explain that I've got a hyper, poop-tastic dog and a kid on the verge of a complete meltdown from all the stress, and we beat it out of there pronto. I am so ashamed, I didn't even hug GMIL goodbye, and her I like okay.

We take Shiloh out, and once again, he either pees on or marks everything in sight, attempts to take a mighty dump in a flower bed (but has nothing left in his bowels, small wonder) and then starts howling to get into the car. But I'm too slow, and that's when he sees one of the other dogs -- that d@mned snotty terrier -- and tries to take after him.

I tossed Adam the keys to open up the car and struggled to get the leash reeled as far in as I could while it was biting into my hand. Poor Adam, he drops the keys a little bit under the car and has to go after them, the dogs are barking at each other, and the terrier owner is yelling, "come away, come away!"

Well, now Adam has totally had it. He bursts into tears and starts screaming at the top of his lungs that he wants to go home. I somehow manage to tear Shiloh away from the terrier, get the keys from Adam, and get him and the dog into the back seat. I start driving home, post haste. At this point, I glance at the car clock and realize that factoring in the 45 minute wait and the 10 min. it took me to just get across the small parking lot with Mr. Pooptastic, the whole oh so frickin' important dog show was only 30 min. long. I went through all of this and took a whole day away from my thesis, which is due REALLY soon, for a frickin 30 minute dog show????

Now as we're driving Adam is able to calm down and collect himself (yay, the way we were going, I thought he might regress all the way back to autistic rocking behavior) and relaxes.

And what does Shiloh do?

He falls sound asleep in the backseat! Dammit, dog, I think after the misery you just caused me, if it were even remotely possible, I should be the one sleeping off the stress in the back seat, and you should be up here driving!

And would you believe, later, after I get home and make Adam and me some soothing tea and put Shiloh in the backyard -- permanently, as far as I was concerned at that point -- the miserable sound of MIL's special ring goes off (I've given her a special ring tone so we don't even have to bother rushing to look at caller ID -- we know it's her). I ignore it. And she calls again. I ignore it. And she calls again. She does this sometimes -- lets it ring until just before voicemail kicks in, then hangs up, waits 4-5 minutes, and then calls again, and does this until someone answers.

I figure she'll do this all evening into the night if I let her, so I pick up. Sure enough, it's her.

"Oh," she says, "Shiloh was so PRECIOUS!" (what? Did you not see all the yack down the hall, or the butt sniffing, or the howling and yowling so hard I thought he was going to bawl his intestines out through his nose, mouth and ears?) "I think you should bring him to see the residents once a week, don't you? It would do them SUCH good!"

I told her Shiloh was grounded permanently.

And I made DH buy Adam and me a ton of sushi for a make-up dinner. And frankly, I don't care if we couldn't really afford it this month -- I made him use his birthday money from his mommie.

DH promised that he would NEVER, EVER agree to anything his mommie proposed again. Yeah, right. I promised him that whenever she pulled the imperial queen act, I am going to tell her to stuff whatever brilliant plan she's got this time right up her butt. And then I'll let Shiloh sniff it.

 

*As more stories come in, this page will be updated and categories will be added. Funny Dog Stories are for entertainment purposes only.