Posted: 10/12/2013 4:43:06 AM EDT
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Here we post some of our dog stories. Funny, sad, inspiring, whatever.
A man I used to work with (call him Ken) just had an affinity for dogs. Any dog would become his friend. I've seen him make friends with the meanest junkyard dog in existence. Sort of like Riddick, with his hellhound ("It's an animal thing.') So Ken goes to visit some hippie types for Thanksgiving. These guys have gone back to nature in a big way: cabin way back in the woods, gotta have a 4x4 to get there, grow their own food,etc. They had a mangy old German Shepard that immediately became friends with Ken. Became his best friend, followed him around, slept by his bed,e tc. etc. Now these kids had bought a turkey to eat for Thanksgiving. But when November came around, no one had the heart to kill the bird. So the job went to Ken. The dog sat down with an adoring look as he sharpened the axe. Ken grabbed the bird. Dog sat down with an adoring look. Ken found a stump, put the bird's neck across the stump, and swung the axe... ...and the last Ken saw of the dog was his rear-end sneaking around the corner of the house! He figured he'd be next! |
| When Pheasant hunting 20 years ago with my brothers, a Coyote came out of the brush and ran down a small waterway between me and my brothers. After the Coyote went passed, I turned and shot it 3 times, killing it. My brothers dog went up to the coyote, sniffed it, looked at me and went over behind my brother. The dog staye away from me all day long. |
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Not me, but the old family German Shepherd did something cool once.
Pittsburgh, mid 1980s. My dad is driving along and has come to a stoplight. His male GSD, Tommy, is sitting in the passenger seat, curled up as usual. This black dude comes running up to the car and grabs the car door handle (sumbitch was trying to carjack my dad). Tommy rears his head up and gives the would be carjacker a good view of his teeth. The carjacker is absolutely terrified at this point and nopes right the fuck out of there. |
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When I was growing up we had an Akita named Nala. She was a dog, but looked like a damn bear. I was probably 8 or 9 at the time, but my sister had a smaller cat she named "bootsy" because it was black with white paws, that made him look like he had boots on. Well Bootsy hated Nala, and Nala gave no fucks towards the cat, but always wanted to play. We tried to keep them away from each other for the most part, but of course the cat would get lose every now and then.
So, this day Bootsy gets loose, and Nala gets the cat on his back and is just rubbing her nose on his stomach trying to "play" with the cat. This 12lb cat became the spawn of Satan in less than 2 seconds when this happened, he jumped up on the couch and got on top of the railing for the stairs where Nala couldn't get to her. Waited about 2-3 mins when Nala was looking the other way and jumped on her back digging all of his claws into her back. Nala at the time was just over 100lbs, and was running all over the house freaking out trying to get this cat off of her back, knocking the christmas tree over, dining room chairs, and lamps while her fur was flying all over the place. She finally managed to get the cat off, and just ran away. Ever since that day, Nala would run as far away and as fast as she could to get away from that cat whenever she saw him. I've never seen such a big dog, so afraid of such a small cat. The cat fucked with Nala for 10 years chasing her in the house and up and down the stairs, kinda wish I had recorded it now lol. |
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An American guy came to Fort McMurray and he wound up giving me his bulldog. Now this dog has some interesting quirks:
When you salute her and say, "Semper Fi", she will snap her head and sit rigidly at attention. And if you put a rifle on the ground, she will sit next to it at attention until you tell her to stand down. She will wag her tail like crazy if you tell her, "dog you're a credit to the Corps" and she will hang her head in shame if you call her, "a rotten, dirty commie" Bimba will also take a dump on command. All you have to say is, "Obama". Yes if you yell "Obama", the dog will take a dump. And that takes me to my story. I took the dog to my wife's office and one of her co-workers is a stupid liberal fuck. Mr. SLF has a picture of Obama on the outside of his office divider and when we entered the office, Bimba went right up to Mr.SLF's office divider and she took a very large and smelly dump right in front of the Obama picture. I did not say "Obama", but Bimba took a dump anyway. Mr. SLF was very upset and I told him not to complain. I said, "there's your free shit" I pretended to be mad at the dog; however, she refused to hang her head. Like a good Marine, she sat proudly at attention. |
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I have a couple...
Black lab (Deke). We rented a house in Logan, Ut that had a tiny mom & pop grocery 1/2 a block away. Pretty common to see foot traffic carrying groceries. Deke asks to go outside one dark night. He busts through the front door just as I see a man walking away swinging a loaf of bread. Deke runs past the man snatching the bread as he goes! The victim and I chase the dag for 10 min before cornering him on a porch. Victim found the whole affair amusing and would not take money from me. Yellow lab (Sigasaurus Rex). Watches more tv than I do. Monitors every program for any bird or four legged creature. Barks viscously at tv screen when any qualifying creature makes an appearance. Which is every fucking five minutes! One day, Sig destroys 40" Samsung trying to catch a rabbit on the screen. While chasing the dag with intent to kill, I realize I now have an excuse to replace the too small 40" tv. Win! Good boy! |
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Quoted:
I have a couple... Black lab (Deke). We rented a house in Logan, Ut that had a tiny mom & pop grocery 1/2 a block away. Pretty common to see foot traffic carrying groceries. Deke asks to go outside one dark night. He busts through the front door just as I see a man walking away swinging a loaf of bread. Deke runs past the man snatching the bread as he goes! The victim and I chase the dag for 10 min before cornering him on a porch. Victim found the whole affair amusing and would not take money from me. Yellow lab (Sigasaurus Rex). Watches more tv than I do. Monitors every program for any bird or four legged creature. Barks viscously at tv screen when any qualifying creature makes an appearance. Which is every fucking five minutes! One day, Sig destroys 40" Samsung trying to catch a rabbit on the screen. While chasing the dag with intent to kill, I realize I now have an excuse to replace the too small 40" tv. Win! Good boy! My friends dog does the same thing. He will watch the animal planet and his dog will lunge at the TV any time there is a cat or a bunny. Funniest thing. She is too small to do damage so we encourage it. |
| One more about Deke the black lab. We've left UT for upstate NY. Deke & I are fishing off of a T shaped concrete pier on Cayuga lake. I'm fishing for Atlantic land locked salmon. I, being the fish god that I am, am catching everything. Some clown, who can't catch shit, sees me and takes the position next to me. He still can't catch shit. I catch a 36" lake trout @ 15lbs. I go to release the fish and the clown begs me for it. He puts it on a long rope stringer in the water between the bank and the top of the T. A short time later, I hear a commotion, and the clown is screaming at the water. I look and my dag is swimming around with the fish in his mouth which is tied to the dock. I try to regain control of the dag. Clown threatens to hurt the dag. Fuck him! I scare the clown and let Deke chew on the fish until he got tired. |
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A few nights ago the wife and I are watching tv pretty late, the 3 dogs are sleeping, except the youngest she stands and starts a deep woof woof woof at very low volume towards the kitchen, she also starts looking at our big male in between barks,
I am like well fuck she is freaked out about something. I lean forward and in the shadows of the spare bedroom which is our cat room I see two glowing eyes staring back. The dog is seeing one of the cats eyes and it's strange and new. She was worried for a few. I could literally tell dozens of dog and animal stories. Ever seen a rabbit fuck a kitten? I have, at Knob Creek Range many years ago. When I was 18 or 19 me and some buddies went to go shoot. there was a batch of kittens all chewing on and playing with an old buck rabbit that was big as fuck. We go to line up and shoot and a buddy screams at the top of his lungs "HOLY SHIT THIS BUCK RABBIT IS RAPING THIS KITTEN" Apparently the buck rabbit had some playing of it's own it wanted to do. It grabbed that kitten and jack hammered it for a solid 15 seconds, then curled up and went to sleep. |
Holy Shit! That was funny.
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Quoted: When I was growing up we had an Akita named Nala. She was a dog, but looked like a damn bear. I was probably 8 or 9 at the time, but my sister had a smaller cat she named "bootsy" because it was black with white paws, that made him look like he had boots on. Well Bootsy hated Nala, and Nala gave no fucks towards the cat, but always wanted to play. We tried to keep them away from each other for the most part, but of course the cat would get lose every now and then. So, this day Bootsy gets loose, and Nala gets the cat on his back and is just rubbing her nose on his stomach trying to "play" with the cat. This 12lb cat became the spawn of Satan in less than 2 seconds when this happened, he jumped up on the couch and got on top of the railing for the stairs where Nala couldn't get to her. Waited about 2-3 mins when Nala was looking the other way and jumped on her back digging all of his claws into her back. Nala at the time was just over 100lbs, and was running all over the house freaking out trying to get this cat off of her back, knocking the christmas tree over, dining room chairs, and lamps while her fur was flying all over the place. She finally managed to get the cat off, and just ran away. Ever since that day, Nala would run as far away and as fast as she could to get away from that cat whenever she saw him. I've never seen such a big dog, so afraid of such a small cat. The cat fucked with Nala for 10 years chasing her in the house and up and down the stairs, kinda wish I had recorded it now lol. My dad got a rescue Rottweiler some years ago. She was a body shop dog, living at the shop for a deterrent. Well she hated uniforms and Obama's sons, a lot. Once the postman came to the shop and no one was in front so he strolled into the back and she bit him in the ass. Strike One. Well the postman calls the cops who were doing animal control at the time here and they go to the shop to have a talk to the owner about the vicious dog. No one is up front so Mr Policeman (Black guy) strolls into the shop, well this was just too much for her to resist, Strike Two. She literally ripped the pants off the cop. (this was back in the day before they shot every dog they saw) EDIT: you had to go through closed doors and a gated chain link fence to get in the shop. So anyway she was too much of a liability so they had to get rid of her and they gave her to my dad. She was sweet as can be unless you had a uniform or tried to get in his van. No Postman got near their front door because she would raise hell as soon as the truck pulled into their cul de sac. |
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[div style='text-align: left;']my new puppy needs open heart surgery  her name is abby <a href="http://s1268.photobucket.com/user/mp15223/media/family258.jpg.html" target="_blank">http://i1268.photobucket.com/albums/jj580/mp15223/family258.jpg</a>[div style='text-align: left;'] i would link the thread but i dont know how?
Sorry to hear of your pup's condition. Hope all goes well. Did the vet say it may heal itself? I've heard of things like that happening. |
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Quoted:
Sorry to hear of your pup's condition. Hope all goes well. Did the vet say it may heal itself? I've heard of things like that happening. Quoted:
Quoted:
[div style='text-align: left;']my new puppy needs open heart surgery her name is abby <a href="http://s1268.photobucket.com/user/mp15223/media/family258.jpg.html" target="_blank">http://i1268.photobucket.com/albums/jj580/mp15223/family258.jpg</a>[div style='text-align: left;'] i would link the thread but i dont know how?
Sorry to hear of your pup's condition. Hope all goes well. Did the vet say it may heal itself? I've heard of things like that happening. i'm giving the vet a call monday to ask what i might expect if i decide to just let it play out |
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When I was a lad we had a Dobie named Senta, one of the damn smartest dogs I have ever had. Anyways we had a small front porch with about 3 steps leading up to it with a railing that was directly opposing to the front door. It was a very small front porch with maybe 4' of landing in front of the door. Summertime we would leave the door open with the wooden framed screen door closed. Forgot to mention Senta would goes full ballistic if the front doorbell rang and tear ass full speed to the door. JWs come knocking and Senta in typical mode goes code red full speed snarling bare teethed gnashing right up to the screen door and bounces up on her hind legs going eye to eye with two gents in their white shirts and black ties. All without coming in contact with the screen door but micro inches away from touching it. I mosey up to the door and tell her to sit. In front of me are two guys backed against the porch railing in total disregard of the bougainvillea bushes wide eyed and ashen in color. I promptly push on the screen door and ask what they wanted, upon realization that the door was not latched and just spring hinged they stammered a bit counted their blessings I suppose, and nervously excused themselves for bothering me. Girl scouts, door to door salesmen you name it all got the same treatment from Senta and all had the same facial expressions upon realization that the screen door had no latch. Much hilarity for many summers. |
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My girlfriend at the time wanted me to help her rescue (steal) a dog that was chained up outside a mobile home and sadly neglected. The dog was skinny, had a severe flea infestation, and was generally miserable. So we drove up in my convertible, grabbed the dog, threw it the back seat, and took off down the road. I was going 40 mph and glanced at the rear-view mirror, only to see the dog up on the trunk, staring back at me with these 'OH SHIT I THINK I REALLY MESSED UP' look in its eyes. Before I had time to hit the brakes, the dog slid off the trunk onto the road, it's little claws scrambling for traction as the wind overpowered it. I saw it hit, bounce twice, roll four or five times, and finally get up, limping slightly at it ran back to the car. The poor thing stayed in the floorboards the rest of the trip to its new home, where it was taken care of, loved, and presumable lived a better life. Girlfriend dumped me shortly after. I guess she got what she really wanted. Bitch used me to provide her with a surrogate child, knowing full well that I didn't want kids. I mean, we talked about this! But I'm not bitter. Not at all... |
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When I lived in Alpine San Diego we had three dags, Rocky (big ass rottie) Chang (tough ass black Chow Chow) and Odie (a 12# chihuahua). Odie was the early warning radar of the three and Rocky and Chang were like the 3rd ID door kickers. Neighbors black lab wanders down our driveway, Odie signals intruder alert and Rocky and Chang proceed to throw down a serious beat down on the lab. I was in on the second floor yelling out the window for Rocky and Chang to stop as I actually thought they were going to kill the Lab. Lab takes off running for his life and Rocky and Chang finally decide maybe they should listen to me and go from kill mode to "Oh shit I think we are in trouble mode". Not fucking Odie though, he goes after the poor Lab full speed yapping his head off. About 20 mics later I get a phone call from a neighbor down the road asking if I own a fawn colored Chihuahua. I hesitantly admit to ownership and the nice lady explains that her dog is tore to shit and she needs to take him to the vet and that Odie had chased him home all the way up to their doggy door. I tell her I'll drive over ricky tick to pick up Odie. I arrive and their dag is fucked up nine ways to sunday with deep punctures everywhere including his shwanze. I apologize and give her my name and offer to pay the vet bill. She declines and says if her dag got his ass handed to him by a chihuahua he deserved it. I said nothing. |
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Well, this is definitely "too long, didn't read" material. I actually was working on this as I saw this thread. I We just lost her less then a month ago and I wanted to write about her for myself, so I would never forget about all the things that made her, her. Some of you will read this and realize she was very spoiled. You are right.
Our dog, Hope Hope was my mother’s last dog. I kind of talked her into getting Hope when her good lab Belle died unexpectedly of cancer. We had always had dogs, and I thought having a dog might make mom feel better, give her a little companionship and maybe even give her a connection to pop, who dearly loved all dogs. She got Hope through my niece, and the vet’s office where she worked, from a younger fellow that traveled for his job and could no longer keep her. I think that was in 2005 and we were told Hope was seven years old. When Kristi and I first met Hope and for several visits after, Hope was very shy and would not come to either of us, although my sister Beth was good friends with her. I believe they thought that Hope did not like men very much. I tried hard to befriend her and I would sit on the floor in the living room, but, she would just run around in circles much of the time. Hope eventually, timidly allowed me to get near her and eventually pet her. Beth would take her for walks and then they let me take her for walks. This helped her to like me, but I don’t think we walked as far as she wanted to in the neighborhood. She warmed up to me and enjoyed our walks at mom’s until mom passed away before Mother’s Day in 2006. The night mom died, I remember Hope in mom’s room. That was the last mom spoke and we said goodbye and I told her I would take care of Hope and she said I was “her good boy” and I remember reading to her some and that was the last time I think mom was aware I was around. She died the next day. After the wake, we left, but Hopie stayed with Miriam (mom's live-in caretaker) at the house. We got permission to keep Hopie from our landlord and came back to get her and took her home to live with us. She lived with us at the old house and she got her first terrible haircut at the Salty Dog in Pocomoke, MD. 
She looked awful, but, I don’t think she cared. We learned a little bit about her, and we continued feeding her pumpkin & Beneful and we took her for walks around the neighborhood in town. Sometimes I would walk her down what is now our alley and two great big dogs in a dark cage would bark at her. She came to enjoy this and would walk by there and make just enough noise to set them off and then she would bark back at them and would bark at them fiercely knowing that I would “hold her away” from them. (Good thing for those dogs! If there is one thing I believe about her, she was certain that she was ten feet tall and did not know the meaning of fear whatsoever!) Once she got too close and caught a tooth in her nose, but it healed. Of course by this time, we let her do all the things that Mom did not and she got on all the furniture and visited us on the bed. We discovered she liked to lick feet, and thought it was odd, but it made her so happy, we just let her. That was her favorite thing. She even licked my feet some the night before she died. We found a new house at the end of 2006 and moved in and it was a block away. We moved furniture a little bit each night, until we were done and then we took Hope and spent are first night there. Hope never seemed to care about the old house. We got settled in the new house and Hope decided she liked laying in the corner of Mom’s old couch, looking out the front window, watching the world go by and barking. 
She barked at everybody in the whole world but us and in the end, sometimes even us, but that was O.K. The following year, we learned that she had cancer in her left front leg. Dr. Paula, at are new Vet’s Office, discovered it and then we let her operate on Hope. I was very scared. But, they got it and then she healed. This was the first of four cancers that she had to be operated on for. 
As time went on, I came to know the funny things that she did. She liked to hang out with me on the recliner in our den, nestled between my legs. She would poke us with her strong little nose, wanting to be petted or just given some attention. When we would go for a walk, she would bark at anything and everything, including folks walking on the same street or on their own porch or whatever. I became very good at apologizing for her, but I didn’t mind, I eventually came to believe that she thought she was just talking to them in the only way she knew how. She was a very vocal dog. When we walked, which was just about every afternoon and weekend morning, we would go a pretty long way, most times a mile or two. In her younger days, she never wanted to go home, when she sensed we were heading home, she would lag behind, protesting our return. Sometimes, it worked and we would go farther. She always relished passing a house that a dog was tied up in the yard. Even if the dog was asleep, she would slip by and then make just enough noise to wake the poor dog up and let the barking contest begin. She was clever. One spring afternoon, we were walking down the middle of the street and I heard a faint noise behind us, an old fella in a big, old, quiet "old fella car" was idling along behind us. We got out of the way and as he slowly went by, I told him I was sorry, I didn't hear him or we would have moved sooner. He said he could see us walking along and we looked so content, he didn't want to bother us, he enjoyed just watching us walking along together, said we looked happy. I think we looked at each other a lot when we were walking, and I would talk with her, too (not to her, with her). As she grew older, her vision got a little shaky and she would bark at things that really didn't need to be barked at. Like a new clump of grass on the side of the yard, or in particular, she barked at discarded yellow plastic Dollar General shopping bags. She would bristle at them and charge them and then look embarrassed when she figured out that they weren't really monsters. As time went on, our walking radius became smaller, first limiting to around a couple blocks, then down our alley, then just around the back of the house and through the side yard, where she would flop down and demand a tummy rub, sometimes almost glaring at me until I gave in. When she was satisfied, we would continue around the house and go back in. Finally, she became content to just go out in the front yard, and perhaps lay in the grass for a while, of course with a tummy rub or two thrown in. She liked to lay on her back in the grass and wriggle, I guess it felt good. She hated going anywhere in the truck, but she was a very good girl at the vet’s office, and they all seemed to end up loving her. They always had a kind word for her and a pat when she came in. When Beth would come to visit, Hopie always instantly remembered her. I always thought Hope really loved her, and Beth cared a lot about her, but some folks just aren't "dog people", I guess. In the back yard, she would go out and chase a squirrel or two or just lay down and sometimes bark at noises in the neighborhood, or start a conversation with other dogs in the distance. She barked for her supper! Every evening of all the time that we had her, she came into the kitchen when she heard her dish being filled with dry food, sat in the floor and started barking at me (or Kristi), and kept on until we put her dish down, and she would attack it. Towards her last couple months, she might have barked a little less, but she sounded off, none the less, and at least tried to eat all of her supper, maybe coming back to it after she was through “mooching” off of first, me, then Kristi, always in that order. At around 9-9:30 at night, she performed her one herding chore, to come tell me it was time for us to go turn in, she would stand at the den door, look at me, pacing back and forth, expressing agitation if I tried to ignore her, until I came along and followed her into the bedroom, where she climbed up on to our bed and plopped down at the foot of it. She would hang out with me, but seldom for the whole night. She would leave after a half hour and then go lie first at the foot of the stairs I made for her, then farther out into the hall, near the door to my office, then finally, down to the cool hardwood floor part of the hallway farther down. Sometimes, she would come back in the middle of the night, climb up on the bed and plop down, either up by one of us, or down near the bottom. She would sure be up near the top if a storm rolled in in the night, like most dogs, she didn’t care for the lightening & thunder. Several years ago, she would show interest in my coffee, and I kept it away from her until one morning, I gave her the last sip, and she looked so cute with her pointy nose in the cup, and that became a tradition with us, she always got the last sip of coffee from my cup. Her nose would end up with a tan coffee stain on it, but (again), she didn’t mind. 
Hope liked animal chew toys when she was a younger gal, but she soon seemed to grow tired of that and then just ignored them, which they remained till her death. She enjoyed visiting us in the shower , with her pointy nose brushing the corner of the curtain aside as she would see what was going on behind the curtain in there. Then when we came out, she would ambush us and lick our shins for a second, then chase the towel until we would just throw it on her and watch her blunder around until she crawled out from under it. That was famous for several years with her, she loved that. She would also stalk a laundry basket left on the bedroom floor (or the bed), gingerly picking a sock or a washcloth out and not chew on it, but just nuzzle it and flip it around for a bit. 
She did the crazy dog run around back and forth across the house thing every now and again, she could really move if she wanted to… The funny thing is, she decided early on that she was my dog (or, I was her person, I suppose). She followed me everywhere and was happy just to be where I was. If I walked by her, she would get up and follow me without a moment’s thought, and just plop down in the doorway of whatever room I was in, happy just to be keeping an eye on her man. She tolerated Kristi, but I think she may have been jealous of her a little. It was sad to me, watching Kristi be so good to her, brushing her, picking up after her, drying her off after a wet walk around the block, 
but Hope was always my dog, I never could persuade her to pay Kristi a lot of attention. Oh, she DID pay her SOME, just not the same as me, I guess. Kristi loved her a great deal, I mean truly loved that little dog and I guess she came to accept the way things were. In the last years of her life, she had arthritis pretty bad, and as I said, her mobility became limited. She could go outside and go potty, but had little interest in those long walks she used to love so much. Finally, Kristi noticed a little bump on her nose near her eye and we took her to the vet the next day. Bad news, she had cancer again, this time in the bones in her nose, and even a similar lump on her back ankle. Nose to ankle. Doc was sure of it and equally sure there was nothing to be done, not for a dog of 16 years. She put her on prednisone and upped her pain meds and we lived on, watching the monster on her lovely nose take its toll on her. 
Her breathing got worse, and sometimes she pawed at it. We knew she didn’t have long left and we did the best we could to spend as much time with her as we could. One afternoon she couldn’t stop snorting and “reverse sneezing”. It was awful, I held her, and was on the floor with her when the wife got home from work. As she came in, I told her to sit down on the floor with us. I said I think the end is very near now, and we were devastated, but both knew I was right. At about 9:30 that night, Kristi yelled to me and I went running. Hope was bleeding from her nose and her pretty white paws were red with her blood. We knew, and both called our bosses and said we’d be out the next day. She slept with us on the bed that night and we hugged her and told her how much we both loved her, and we knew she loved us, but I think maybe we all three said our goodbyes, she had to know she was dying. The next morning, we took her to the vet and they knew almost without asking why we were there. They shaved her little leg and put the IV in. I held her while she gave her the first shot which made her sleepy. She looked around and gradually, slowly, quietly laid her head down on my shoulder, her eyes stayed open but she was asleep. I gently laid her down on the table and I held her, my head on her chest, talking softly to her, telling her what a good girl she was and that I would see her again. They injected her and I listened to her last heartbeats and then they just stopped. That was the loudest silence I had ever heard, and my dear, sweet Hope was gone… We took her home in my towel that she used to love to chase and Kristi and I dug her grave. When we placed her in, I snipped a lock of her hair and took her old daisy patterned collar off and kept it on a nail in my garage, where the others hung. We buried her, put the tools away, poured a drink and drank to our good dog and had a good cry. It’s fair to say we gave her a good life. She knew she was loved and I believe she absolutely loved us with everything she had. TL, DR cliffs: Had a great dog, loved her, she died of cancer and we were very sad, but that's the way it is with dogs and people... you pay the fare at the end and it's higher, the sweeter the journey...
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My granddad was Sheriff of the county I grew up in. When he was first elected (1950), one of my uncles got a new German Shephard they named Buddy. My granddad was never much of a big animal person, but for some reason he and Buddy became inseparable. Once he got home from work, Buddy was like a shadow following my granddad around the house and yard.
One morning, per usual, he got in his car and drove the two blocks to the county courthouse, walked up the wide limestone steps, in through the front double doors, down a long hall, hung a right and entered the first set of doors leading into the Sheriff's department. He said good morning to his secretary, passed through another set of doors, and walked down a short hall before unlocking his office door and taking a seat at his desk. Not more then five minutes later Buddy comes nonchalantly walking into his office and lays down at his feet. From then until the day Buddy passed away, Buddy followed him to work every morning. 
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