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Doggiedotes

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  • Doggiedotes

    Just been down to water.
    Not had my (beloved) dog for three years now, but still keep her waterbowl there....it fills up with rain (you remember rain!) and the birds have a drink/bath in it.
    I still miss her badly, a London Brown with such a lovely nature. She would be sprawled out in the shade these lovely summer days, watching me so contentedly.
    I smile when I think of her, so not all miz.

  • #2
    What breed is a London Brown, Raybon? She sounds like she was a lovely dog. I wouldn't be without mine now.
    Whooops - now what are the dogs getting up to?

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    • #3
      There are apparently two main kinds of mixed breed dogs so interlinked they become a sort of standardised type - a London Brown or a London Black! My brown dog looked exactly like Homer's dog.....you see them everywhere. Most have beautiful Egyptian 'eye makeup' which makes them very expressive.
      The above info was given to me by a local man - I had rushed up to him in the street to ask where he'd got his pup....mine had nine brothers and sisters and I wondered if they were related! I know better now!
      You could see part greyhound (shape!) part ridgeback (someone else pointed it out to me - I was a first-time dog owner and new nothing. Now I know NEXT to nothing.

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      • #4
        I shall never forget Jyp the sheep dog we had on the farm, when I went to school she would sit on top of a large gate post and watch me walk up the road, she was there waiting for me when I came home. Best friend I ever had and I still miss her 50 odd years later.
        photo album of my garden in my profile http://www.growfruitandveg.co.uk/gra...my+garden.html

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        • #5
          Sounds like an idyllic kids' story. Great name for a sheepdog.

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          • #6
            Dogs are very special.

            Our first greyhound was a stray. We found him running around outside our flat in the sleet and wind, brought him inside and our lives changed forever. Archie was a bag of anxieties but we worked through them with a wonderful behaviourist and he turned into the most amazing dog.

            Last September, after five and a half very challenging but extraordinarily rewarding years, he was diagnosed with bone cancer. Nine days later, we let him go.

            The greyhound-sized hole in our lives was immense. We started the search for our next one only a few weeks later, and brought Walt home from a rescue at the end of November. He is wonderful in every way, and we regularly suggest that we should have renamed him Nurofen, because he is such an effective painkiller!

            The funny thing is, we had talked for years about getting a dog, but it was never the 'right time'. However, we did know that when that time came, we would get a rescue, almost certainly a greyhound, and probably a black greyhound because of the increased difficulties in rehoming them. And that's what arrived on our doorstep that freezing cold March afternoon. I don't believe in fate, but...

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            • #7
              PS - Never go greyhound racing, folks - it's an utterly vile industry.

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              • #8
                Totally agree Seagull, I am an avid follower of David's Best Mate - now replaced by Arthur Carr - on facebook.
                Rosie posy kissy on the nosie is also a rescue - the whole puppy farming business is vile.
                Whooops - now what are the dogs getting up to?

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                • #9
                  My Mum had a little Yorkshire terrier with one seeing eye - someone had dropped a plate and a chip flew up and injured her.
                  When the window frosted up she used to melt a hole by pressing her warm tongue to the glass, then put her good eye to the hole to look out. Clever little dog!

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                  • #10
                    Whilst we are on heartwarming dog tales - mum (on her own after my dad passed away) was desperate to have another dog when their lovely old rescue died, and we spent some weeks looking for the right one at various Dogs' Trust centres.

                    She said whatever dog she had, she'd like to call it Cindy-Lou, after the dog in one of my Dad's favourite songs 'Gone Fishing' (co-incidentally linked in the Chat thread this very evening).

                    She saw a good candidate after some weeks of scouring - but it was only when we went back to the office to enquire about the wee Jack Russell that they said, 'Oh yes, she was transferred to the centre yesterday, having been brought in by the dog pound - she was a stray on the streets of Rotherham. She's called Cindy.'

                    Deal closed, there and then.

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