Ouch! I hope she’s okay.
Well, as for funny stories, we have had several dogs…. i could tell you the one about the Cocker Spaniel that chased and retrieved rocks (even off the side of a mountain) or the fact that our current dog sounds like he is auditioning for tap dancing most of the time, but I think I will tell one from my childhood instead.
As a young man (5th grade/12years old or so) I was a pretty solitary creature. My family seemed to move every two or so years, and this particular move had been a bad one for me. No real friends, bullies in the neighborhood, etc. Anyhow, I discovered the fact that one of the neighbors across the alley had a female Irish setter that had just had a litter of five or so puppies. Every day after school, I would spend half an hour or so playing with them through the fence, until the owner caught me and invited me to actually come into the yard to spend time with them! I was ecstatic! (There was little fear of ‘strangers’ then…)
I spent the next six weeks racing to and from time with the puppies. I even skipped dinner a couple of times. During my time in the pen, I learned from the owner that the mom dog was a purebred from the Philippines. The owner had brought her to the US when he got out of the armed forces. Over time, the owner found homes for all but one small male puppy with a gimpy sort of leg. I didn’t have any money, and $350 in 1978 was LOT of money. (Sodas we a quarter and $1.50 got you into the theatre with popcorn and a soda.) When I came home from school one day and saw that the puppy pen was quiet and empty I almost died inside. I moped my way into the back yard and through the garage into the house, ready to cry but unwilling to do so. As I entered my room, I was greeted by my gimpy little ball of fur and could have died happy right then!
The owner came by later and officially “gave” me the puppy. (Paperwork and all) extracting the promise that I would never ‘sell’ him ‘intact’. (Birth defect bad for the breed) Apparently he came from a VERY prestigious bloodline. I was more than happy to make such a promise. Apparently she felt that I had spent enough time with the pups to have ‘earned’ a puppy. It made my year, and the rest of my time there was better. I named him ‘Red’ and he and I went everywhere together. (I even tried to get him into the grocery store as my ‘assistance animal’, but failed.) He was a beautiful dog, if a bit on the slow side (intellectually).
One weekend we had to go out of town, and couldn’t take him with us. (In a car he would begin throwing up about 15 minutes into the drive and continue until 30 minutes after we reached our destination.) He was shut into the garage with plenty of food and water and toys and such for the weekend. When we returned, I opened the garage door to the most foul smelling mess imaginable. It seems Red had discovered a 3 gallon bucket of lard on a shelf 10 or so ft off the floor and had somehow managed to climb a ladder a few feet away and jump over and knock it to the ground. Where he proceeded to eat roughly half of it. And then began throwing up. Over and over and over again.
I spent several days scrubbing the concrete of the garage with brushes, dish detergent and hot water trying to get the stench out. The lard had mixed with the bile and other ick and had soaked into the pores of the concrete. It was awful. After that, every time it got over 75F outside, the stench from the garage would invade the house! Incredibly pungent.
When we moved again around a year later, I found I couldn’t bring him to my new house. After crying for about 2 weeks, I was lucky enough to find a rancher with a german shepherd and 500 acres that was willing to take Red on. (He tended to need a LOT of attention and running room.) Red seemed happy; the rancher would attach the dogs’ leads to his truck as he drove fences and broke hay bales. They loved it. If they got tired, they would simply jump up into the bed of the truck. I had worked with Red and he no longer limped or hobbled, so all was good. (Though I wasn’t allowed to give them man his ‘papers’; those I returned to the kind lady that gave him to me, per my promise.)
I guess that wasn’t too funny, but it is a true story.