Who wants to play the: Tell one sweet, funny, or clever My childhood pet... story game?

I had a little dog named “Tami” and a bunny named “Cinnamon”, they were best friends. Tammy was a terrier mix, brindle with white paws and chest, a darling little dog. We moved out of state when I was 11 to New Mexico, where my dad was an architect for the bureau of indian affairs and designed schools and hospitals for native american reservations.
Tammy & Cinnamon shared the same large carrier and they were accidentally flown to Philadelphia instead of Albuquerque.

How the hell the airline people could mistake the “Albq.” tag for “Philly” was a mystery.
They were well cared for by airline personnel for their 3 day holdover in Philly and happily adjusted to their new home.
I was hysterical and my parents could barely get me to leave the airport when they went missing.

Fuck American Airlines. lol

No more entries yet? Pffft!

Okay, story number #2 of many.
I had a long haired white Hamster named “Blizzard” and would put him in the bath tub in my bathroom when I cleaned his cage.
The bathroom was being remodeled once, I was 13, and the contractors had duct taped off a space of tile around the faucets that were to be replaced, along with a new tile job.
I put Blizzard into the tub and when I came back from cleaning his tank he was gone!

He had chewed through the tape and disappeared into the bowels of the wall behind the tub
He was gone for 3 weeks, and I insisted they not re-tile the wall because I could hear him scratching and scurrying about from time to time.
My parents were pissed, they wanted the re-model finished, but…I held firm and then….one night I flipped on the light, 3 weeks later, and there was Blizzard, sitting on the edge of my bath tub! The food treats had finally lured him out of the plumbing. haha
He was skinny but alive and lived another few years. :-)

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When I was young we lived in Los Angeles, we had a female dog that went into heat. Dilbert the local terrier cross (he could jump a six foot wall) jumped the FIVE foot wall of our neighbor and got our female pregnant.
Dilbert was owned by a police officer and friend of the family. My dad use to kid later with the then Los Angeles chief of Police that they were “in-laws”.

@Tropical_Willie Hahaha…that happened to me once too. The neighbors German Shepherd jumped our 6 foot fence and impregnated our young little dog, ( Tami from above, the week before we were having her spayed) and she had 8 puppies that were twice her size by the time they were 8 weeks old. This was the early 70’s, we should have had her aborted but didn’t know we could do that.
They all found good homes, but it was a miracle that an 18 lb. dog could give birth to 8 puppies from an 80 lb. dog. haha

I once had to keep a cat at my place for a few weeks. My “place” is a hotel room, so he stayed in a hotel room with me, and he hated it. On the first day, I was sitting on the sidewalk outside of the lobby and I hear meowing. I look up at my (open) three-story window. Guess what I see: my cat meowing his heart out from the top floor of the building for all of the streets to hear.
I got permission to move him to the vacant restaurant of for the rest of the time. He loved the freedom. He would sit on the window sill and watch passers by.

I once had a dog called Milu. He quite playful and obedient. Yeah, and I loved him with all my heart (remember this detail).

OK, to the story. Disclaimer: this story sounds better if told in my mother’s point of view. And that’s what I’m going to do now :)

One afternoon of 11 years ago I was lying on my bed half-asleep. My daughter had woken up earlier than me and was playing around. I was getting back to sleep when I heard some noise from our cupboard. I looked and saw my daughter grabbing the can of powder milk out of the cupboard. I lay back to bed, thinking it was just normal because she always loved to eat raw powder milk and now she was just indulging in her little hobby. After a while I woke up and walked to the kitchen. To my horror, my daughter was literally feeding our dog on the powder milk! And her feeding pattern was pretty peculiar: she first got a spoonful of milk, fed herself, then got another spoonful and fed the dog, all using the same spoon! I was so furious that I grabbed a stick and beat her. She cried and said: “Milu is my good friend and I just want to share the best things with him!”

RIP Milu. You died so soon :(

Our last dog (a Chihuahua-terrier mix) lived to be very old. Eventually she couldn’t see well, and had a heart condition, but she still loved to chase birds and rabbits. We figured out how to “hunt” with her. I’d hold her under my arm, my other hand supporting her muzzle. I’d walk with her slowly toward a rabbit on the lawn, pointing her nose at the rabbit. When we got close enough, the rabbit would start to move away, then she would see it, and her legs would start to churn slowly (remember her heart condition). I’d put her on the ground, and she’d walk over to where the rabbit had been, stick her head in the bushes, and sniff.

It was the funniest thing, and we so enjoyed that dog.

Now THAT’S hunting!

One of my ex-boyfriends had a Bassett hound/pit bull mix. Talk about funny looking. Anyway, Jake was several years old and definitely potty trained.
My ex owns a smart home. EVERY electronic anything is controlled from a remote or an app on his phone. We were at Panera for lunch and he was boasting about this and showing me how it worked. He turned on the Rumba, which is a robot vacuum cleaner. We finished lunch and headed to his house.
We opened the front door and walked into a living room covered in perfect lines of shit. Apparently Jake had explosive diarrhea and the Rumba had run it over. And over, and over.
My ex didn’t laugh then, but I howled. It was so funny. I don’t know why we didn’t make it… Haha. He definitely laughs about it now.

GREAT, tunny stories, all.

This it like, the _best thread. I don’t know why there wasn’t more participation. Overall I think this is about the best group of responses to a question that I remember.

Thanks all. Remember you can post again, just one story at a time.

This question didn’t come up in my account until it was sent to me. I’ve been having some weird fluctuation in the numbers of active questions. I thought I was imagining things, until I saw how long ago this was posted.
I am currently thnking over my options, and I will have my first answer pretty soon.
Right now I gotta go roll a smoke,(OTC roll, not in Colo.)

@Jonesn4burgers Puff the magic drag-on is your pet? lol

@ibstubro I agree this thread is interesting :) I don’t have much chance to talk about my Milu.

@Coloma, Wouldn’t THAT make a fun story?! Nope, rolling Top is my fight against high prices. I,ve rolled my own for like two decades in protest of tobacco prices. Now the quality this year is down sharply, and the price is quadrupal what I paid three years ago.

I have a lot of pet stories. I’ve shared most of them, some here, some Askville. I’ll reuse a couple here maybe. I have a fresh one for now.
I have a baby btother a full decade younger than me. I got to be a sort of surrogate mother for him, especially after the divorce. He was like sixish when I took him trick or treating, just the two of us. My fourteen year old brother had already decided he was too old.
One house gave him a kitten when he called out trick or treat. I carried the adoreable thing all over in my pocket. It had to have been weaned just that week, she was really small.
My brother agreed the cat could be mine if he got to keep all his candy this time. (Hah!)
We had a real cool terrier mix at home which, I was sure, could be convinced to be okay about the cat.
When we got home, I knew we would have to be clever to convince mom to let me keep it. I put the kitten back in the bag. When mom asked my brother how he did, he opened the bag to let her see. it was one of those big, paper grocery bags, so even with lots of candy, it was way down there. She peered at the pile, saw movement, then said, “Oh no, no no no.” I talked fast. “You can’t turn down a gift. I don’t remember which house we got it. If Rascal is okay with it, can we?” That gave a long enough pause for me to hand it to her. I saw her melt. Rascal had heard his name, and came to investigate the commotion.
He showed curiosity, but no fear or other bad feelings. The kitten growled a bit, but it was like a cotton ball, and seemed to amuse him with its daring. He hopped back and forth sideways, which was a definate invitation to play. The kitten had no desire to interact with the dog. It stayed that way for a while.
The more the dog invited the little fluff to be playful, the more aloof the kitten became. Our dog was clearly amused, and we started calling him Uncle Rascal, because he took up looking out for the kitten.
One day, as Puffy walked through the room, Uncle Rascal coyley twitched the end of his tail. He pretended to be asleep, but I had seen him peek first. Puffy could not resist. The back hunched so far her little claws looked like they would float up off the floor. Walking sideways, humped, ears and eyes alert, she approached the quivering tip of his tail. Finally, she dared to take a swat at it. He turned his head and gave a “startled” “woof”. I swear to gawd he was grinning! He lay his head back down. The freaked Puffy watched from the safety of her corner. He huffed a sigh, and seemed to resumed his sleep. In a minute or so, there was the tiniest whine, and the tail twitched again. Puffy was hooked. It became their main way to play. Once Puffy was no longer fooled, and would approach Uncle Rascal while he was wide awake, he added chase to the game.
One day Puffy lasted longer than Uncle Rascal. Puffy tried swatting the nose. Only a warning snap followed. Puffy went WWF on Rascal’s tail. Tail got tucked in. Puffy went for an ear. Uncle Rascal grabbed Puffy’s head in his mouth. He only bit down enough to prevent retreat, drew a deep breath, then drew out the longest low growl I ever heard. Claws went nuts all over his face, but he didn’t budge. Cat body twisted and writhed and still the continuous, low growl. Finally he let go, and (swear) grinned when Puffy – wet – head took off like rocket and spun out through the house like a pinball. I laughed so hard I may have permanent injuries. My brothers came running in to find out what was going on. I was too breathless to talk for several minutes, but the dog was gleefully chasing the cat, and they knew it had something to do with that.

Our last dog had a real conscience. We know it because when she did bad things to punish us when we were gone, she always acted strangely when we got home. One day I couldn’t find the bad thing she had done, even though her behavior told us she had. So I picked her up and started walking through the house. As we progressed, I noticed that when the closer we got to a certain part of the house, the more she trembled. And finally, when we happened upon the scene of the crime, she was actually vibrating!

That’s when we started to play “Geiger-dog” every time we got home. It was so funny it was hard to punish her for her mis-deeds!

My goose Marwyn has a garden hose fetish and “gooseterbates” with the hose. It is hilarious!
He positions the hose between his legs in his swimming pool and pins it down underwater until he is half drowning himself, has to come up periodically for air, snorting and making little squeeky sounds. haha
Until…that magic moment when he shrieks and falls over in post goosegasmic bliss. lol

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^OMG!^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I might be permanently damaged.

^^MIGHT be???

Hey…observations from the Jane Gooseall.

“Yeah. Jane ‘there ain’t nobody I won’t goose!”

Honk if you’re….happy. lol

HONK! Honk! Honk!

You only get a half of a great answer, which shows up as 0 because your mystery video is defunct. lol

Here’s another Honk, then.

Boy could use a shampoo and a cut, but still…

^^^ Haha….oooh baby….

When my sister and I were in our 20’s her husband hit a little dog with his Chem Lawn truck. He picked him up. He was skinny and starving. They named the dog “Chem.” They brought Chem to our house because they didn’t have a fenced yard at that time.
We had another dog and we had to feed them separately because Chem would just inhale all of his food and then start on the other dog’s food. This dog was just so desperate to eat. I swear, you could empty a 50 pound bag of dog food out and he would eat it all in 10 seconds.

Well, going from starvation to gluttony wreaked heaky with his digestive system.
My sister came to see the dog. She went out back. From my spot on the couch I could hear her squealing “Oh, Chem! How ARE you! My precious baby! My sweet ,sweet doggy” Then she gave him a great big hug.

Next thing I know she’s storming down the stairs, where the washer and dryer were, and on her way down she snarled, “That damn dog SHIT on me!!”
I started laughing SO hard! I mean, I fell over on the couch and couldn’t get up!
When she came back up, in one of my bathrobes she saw me crying with hilarity, paused….then burst out laughing herself! She had to sit down on the stairs!
We laughed for ten minutes! It was one of those, you just look at the other person and you start cracking up all over again.

To go from “Precious, sweet baby,’ to “Damn dog!” like that! And the vision of her squeezing the dog and diarrhea comes shooting out like ketchup all over her….I STILL laugh about it!

I brought home a tiny kitten just barely weaned. It had fur so long it dragged. It was so young and clumsy, that with every step it’s claws caught in the carpet.
People thought it was mean of me to name it “Booger”.
I always replied, “But wouldn’t you agree it’s the cutest little Booger you have ever seen?”

I shall now tell the greatest story ever told, about my 16 yr. old white Chinese swan goose “Marwyn”, in my avatar. It is an adult story, but worth telling,
I was on the list of waterfowl rehabbers/advice givers, for my local wildlife rescue group in 1998 here in the Sierra Nevada foothills of CA.
I had not been actively doing any rehab, but, was still on the list for advice and identification.
One evening in early July or 1998 I had a call come in from a woman who lived about 20 miles up the mountain from me.

She had found this tiny, still downy, yellow gosling, wandering all alone in the middle of the mountains alongside a road.
She picked him up and drove all over not finding any homes or ponds or clue of where he might have come from.
Solid yellow goslings/ducklings are always of a domestic breed and she found this out after calling the rescue group.
After keeping him for a week and exposing him to her dogs, (leaving them all out on her deck together )which was a miracle they didn’t maul him to death, her husband complained that he had to go, hence the call to me.

“Marwyn” arrived on a sweltering July evening during a power outage, he was maaaybe 10 days old, still downy and lemon yellow. Goslings grow incredibly fast
Because he was a domestic breed not a wild goose, the rescue group could not take him in, but referred the woman to me. Call L. she’ll take him! haha

He was raised in a large wooden brooder box with a heat lamp and mirror to learn to recognize other geese and a stuffed while duck toy to mimic a nest mate and for cuddling.
Initially I mistakenly sexed him as a female and named him “Marilyn”, but at 4 months old Marilyn went through a trans-gander moment, waterfowl are the only birds that actually have a penis and Marwyn showed me his in a cuddly encounter. haha
I scrambled to rewrite his name to something similar, hence ” Marwyn.”
Waterfowl imprint on whatever species they are raised by within the first few weeks of life and I was it, officially mother goose.

The rest is history, and he remains the love of my life and I his.
If someone had told me 20 years ago that a goose would be my all time favorite animal of a lifetime, I never would have believed it.
So many chapters in the Marwyn story, a goose and his girl. :-)

P.S. Marwyns breed of geese can live 20–40 years.

@Coloma Is that Marwyn in your avatar? Man he looks girly ;P

I have one more recent story about my pet fish.

Last year we traveled to another city. One day of the trip we went to an amusement park. There were a pool with a lot of fish there, and it wasn’t a decoration. The fish were actually fond of the dirt of the human’s skin! So when you dipped any of your limps into the water, the fish would immediately came and ate the dirt. The sensation of hundreds fish’s mouths touching the skin was very pleasant, and my family enjoyed it a lot!

Of course, that sensation wasn’t free. We were charged every hour we spent by the pool. My family really loved the pool and wished they could stay there forever.

And last week, by some unknown method, my father discovered that our fish had the same ability to eat dirt like those fish in that pool! Well, now my mom sometimes jokes that she regrets wasting money on something we can enjoy at home.

I also used to have two pet rabbits. Nothing particularly interesting, except for the fact that all they could do was eat, eat and eat! My job with them only consisted of feeding and feeding.

And I don’t want to spoil the fun, but my Milu story turned to a darker way a month after the incident. He was struck down with a serious digestive system infection and died soon after that and my mom blamed me for the incident, though the cause of death still remains a mystery now.

@Mimishu1995 He is a girls goose, yes. haha
Fish kisses are great, very sensual…you need to take a bath with the fish. lol

Oh, that’s too funny @Coloma! Maryn is a trans-gender goose!!