I Don't Speak Dog... Well, Sorta.

[BrokenolMarine]

My dogs can't talk, but they have often been able to communicate. Sometimes better than the people in my life.

Years ago. Many years ago, when I was a little'un. I lived in Florida on the Withlacoochee River. My Stepfather had a Basset Hound. Molly was a Squirrel Dog. She was likely the laziest dog I had ever seen, until you picked up the hunting vest and shotgun, and then she was as excited as the energizer bunny. She was well known to the hunters in the area and they loved to squirrel hunt with WC and I. The dog had eyes like an eagle and her technique was flawless. However, she was very judgmental. She would spot a squirrel in the tree, and mark it by sitting down, looking back at the hunters, and then standing, pointing directly at the squirrel aiming her nose at the grey tree rat. She'd stay frozen in this position until someone took the shot. When the squirrel fell, she'd run to the downed squirrel, pick it up gently, and bring it back to the shooter and hand it gently to them, never breaking the skin or damaging the game. If you MISSED, she'd look over her shoulder with her lip curled up over her teeth, "Really?"

If the squirrel ran to the offside of the tree, she would look over her shoulder as if to say, "Wait." The she'd run to the off side of the tree and bark at the squirrel, flushing it to your side... BOOM. If you dropped the squirrel, she would bring him to you, as outlined above. If you missed, she'd peek around the tree, as if to say, "Really?"

If you took too long to shoot and the squirrel jumped to another tree and disappeared into a den in a hollow. She'd drop down on her belly, Heavy Sigh of frustration... as if to say, "Why do I even bother."

We eventually moved to Tampa, dead in the center of the city. She wouldn't have been happy there, she was a woods dog. One of the hunters that was a regular in our group, offered my Stepfather a Jon Boat in trade for the dog. Yup, she was that good. The dog liked the guy, so the deal was struck. I missed the dog.

Our Westie now is the same way, she can't talk, but she can communicate with her eyes and facial expressions. How about the rest of you my friends?

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[Coach]

Yes: Feed me Dad I’m starving!!!

[BrokenolMarine]

Yup, coach, Fiona has that one down pat.

[cooperhawk]

When my youngest son came back to live with me I bought him a Brittany Spaniel puppy. That dog became one of the family in no time.

When he was eight weeks old we took him dove hunting in Virginia and he would climb over corn stalks or whatever got in his little way to get the bird. He loved to swim and any change he got he dove in the water and splashed bubbles with his paws and snapped and barked at them. He was a character.

So we moved to Minnesota and took him pheasant hunting. He loved it. He would dive into grass higher than his head and you would see him leaping up as he moved back and forth to get his bearings.

As mentioned by Brokenmarine before, you could miss a bird and he'd give you the look. Miss two and he'd show his disgust with you. Miss the third one and he'd just go off hunting by himself.

He was cantankerous, but how I do miss him.

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[dave77]

I never hunted with my neighbors little black retriever but he lived to go with me whenever I rode my horse. He would see me come out my door with my saddle and be right there ready to go. When he was young and I road the trails close to home he would cover 5 times the distance we did, he knew where every covey of quail was hiding and loved to flush them out. When we crossed the highway and got into more populated area I would tell him to heel and he would stay right beside us.

[fortyshooter]

Yep Buster is that way too!

[Centaur]

Squirrels don’t dare to enter our backyard when the attack beagle is near.

[Hatchdog]

Great stories all, as a dog lover I can appreciate them all.

[BrokenolMarine]

Fiona doesn't understand she is a little'un. She herds the Guineas for Mom. She runs the Chickens into the coop at night. (Get 'em Up Girl.)

She Barks at the Pit Bull who runs by with his Dad a couple days a week.

She gives the yowling Coyotes what for every night when they start to call from pack to pack. Asking to be let out, then running outside in the dark to bark into the nothingness. I'm sure THEY are thinking, "Anyone else hear a Scooby Snack?" (Yeah, we don't let her get far, she is a bite size coyote snack.)

The first cows Tina bought when we first moved to the new farm were a pair of Dexters. The two cows were bred, and the seller lied and said they were bucket trained, calm, and could be milked. The cows were crazy. When they came off the trailer they ran thru the west fence into the overgrown abandoned pasture next door. Fifteen acres of scrub trees and weeds. Took three days to lure them back to our side with a trail of oats. At first, when Tina would bring the grain bucket down to feed them, She'd call them in, they would charge down from the north pasture above the pond and slide to a stop. She'd tap the grain bucket and call them softly. They'd lower their heads and paw at the ground. Yeah, right, bucket trained. She'd pour the grain into two piles on the ground and leave.

In four months, she finally got them to come close at feeding time, and eat out of the buckets, but they didn't like to be touched at all. If you touched their heads, they would freak.

Nuts + Horns X 2 = Dangerous.

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Fiona would go to the barn every day with Mom and if the crazy cows got too aggressive she charged THEM, barking, running at their feet and and snapping at these massive beasts to protect her MOMMY. She was quick, dodging if they kicked at her. They'd run from the small 25 pound dog. Miss Tina eventually sold them to a buyer who was informed in advance they were NUTS, and didn't care, she was going to turn them loose in her 300 acre pasture with her herd.

[220]

The side eye says it all, might have to tolerate sharing the cage but dosnt have to like it

[BrokenolMarine]

Yup, they CAN talk.
(Ah, Communicate.)
We just have to listen.

Keep 'em Comin.

[dave77]

Looks like the goat wants to be friends.

[Hatchdog]

Any and every time a dog is on the TV my younger dog plants his butt right in front of it and watches until the dogs are gone. On the Monday morning local news they do a weekly piece from a local shelter. My older dog is so tuned into the lady from the shelters voice that he will perk up just at the sound. Even if he seems to be sleeping.