My Dog is the BEST dog because:

Name the breed, the sex and then tell your tale-

My dog is a 5 year old female BEARDED COLLIE (AKA Beardy). She’s the best because:
she listens and never criticizes
-she loves to walk (great for keeping the pounds off)
-always greets you with a hug and a big wet sloppy kiss
-will always polish off the leftovers (except for mashed potatos).
The downside: Beardies are extremely smart! Once she sees you going for your coat-she is at the door, ready for a walk!

Hap is the best dog. Well, he’s got the best name, anyhow. Hap is short for ‘Happy Not to Still Be at the Pound’. He’s a pit bull mix, so he looks very vicious (a plus for a single girl living on her own). I think he’s a sweetheart but he would probably bite someone if I wanted him to. In fact, I’m thinking of teaching him to bite the man that lives next door.
His former owners abused/neglected him, so he is very docile and timid with new people. Those stupid people didn’t know a wonderful thing when they had it, and I wouldn’t trade him for a pack of well trained purebred anythings.

His name is Larry and he’s a German Shephard / Great Dane mix. We adopted him fromt Humaine Society 12 years ago when he was six weeks old. AND, her name is Samantha she’s an 11 year old German Shephard.

At 150 lbs Larry’s the best watch dog even though he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. I live in the sticks and feel completely safe. Samantha, on the other hand, is just the right about of mean. She protects us all.

Jazz is the best dog because she’s - well, there’s no way to put this politely, bizzare. Small Jack Russell Terrier, weighs in at about 15 pounds. The thing about JRTs is that they honestly think they’re 100 pound dogs. Anyway we ended up with a spare basketball that I tossed out in the back yard. Jazz took ownership of it even though she can more or less hide behind it - for the first few months, she’d try to pick it up in her mouth and of course it would roll away. So, she’d end up ripping around the yard with her mouth on one side or the other, bouncing off the BBQ, etc.

Then, last week she’d finally gotten enough air out of the thing that she could actually sort of pick it up. There’s four steps leading up to a little back porch - she spent literally a half hour painfully dragging the thing up the stairs (up two, it rolls back down, up to #3, lose it again, never giving up though). Then … she backed herself through the dog door and tried to pull the ball into the house. The dog door, unfortunately, is a little narrower than the ball and there’s no way anyone could ever get it through. She tried that for a while and then went back outside, picked up the ball and tried to push it though from the outside. My wife and I were at a window watching all this and just killing ourselves laughing. The silly dog never would have given up, I finally went and put an end to it (and there’s no way she’s allowed to have that ball inside in the first place).

And of course, she’s got her own web page:

She’s a 14-month-old Cardigan Welsh Corgi named Crease. Here’s her picture:

What makes her great?

Her Fur. It’s plush and colorful. She’s 20 different shades of brown. She has a few golden eyelashes. She has long white hair on her tummy that hangs down like a fringe. Her hind legs have fluffy “pants” that I love to brush with my fingers. The fur on her feet is white - when she first came home, El Hubbo and I thought of the white fur as evening gloves - our dainty little princess. Now we know the truth. The white fur on her feet represents athletic socks! Play with me! Play with me! Play with me! Did someone say ball?

Her Smell. The insides of her ears smell musty and sweet and her feet smell like fresh corn chips. Her breath is wonderful too, thanks to weekly brushing and daily tartar control snacks.

Various Other Traits.

When I need to pick her up I put one hand under her chest and the other under her butt. She knows this so well that she actually sits on my hand when I get ready to lift her to the bed.

She trusts me and readily submits to medical procedures. I grew up with a Lab who would run at the sound of the Q-tip drawer opening, so this is novel.

When she is off-leash she keeps me in sight and will frequently loop back to me, give me kisses and run off again.

She is the perfect sleeping companion: warm, quiet and gives me kisses in the middle of the night.

She’s my girl.

It is much easier to see ourselves as better than or even worse than, rather than accepting that we simply are. - John “The Penguin” Bingham

Ginger is a Shetland Sheepdog and to put it quite simply, she is the best because she will give you a hug when you ask for it! My wife taught her this trick! “Give me a hug” and Ginger will put her head on our shoulders just like “a people.”

Way too smart! She is slowly figuring out - backwards! - when to start barking because I’m leaving for work. First, it was when I picked up the car keys. Second, it was when I picked up my briefcase. Third, it was when I put on my tie. Now, it is while I’m brushing my teeth. Soon, she will start barking madly as soon as the radio goes off in the AM!

“Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’”
E A Poe

Shelties are Sooooo Smart! Well-behaved and good-looking with no effort at all. One quick trip through the junipers and Darwin’s hair is slicked back like Mike Douglas’ and he smiles.

The neighborhood children call him: “Darwin the Handsome” and he’ll pay ball with anyone who asks.

I’ve had to give him one overstuffed chair all his own - so he can wipe the rain off his fur all my himself and he even uses it…

He’s just the best dog there ever was -

I would like to take this opportunity to say a few (okay, quite a few) words about my dog.

She really isn’t my dog, she’s my dad’s dog, but she was there when I was growing up, so I call her mine. Anyway, her name is Snowball, she’s an Akita, and she’s almost pure white, hence the name. She’s the best dog because she’s damn near indestructible.

Once, when she was a puppy, she saw another dog in the yard, and jumped through the window, which was unfortunately closed at the time. It was terrible. I heard, from the other room, a KRASH!!!, and then my mother screaming, and my mother never screams. I run in to find blood all over the carpet, and Snowball with her front paws in her mouth, trying to dig the shards out. We somehow restrained her, and rushed her to the vet, and he removed a shard from her nose. It seems Snowball had successfully removed the shard that was in her mouth all by herself at some point. Anyway, she healed quickly, and was just as frisky as ever within a week. Unfortunately, she didn’t learn anything from the experience, as she did it again a month later. She suffered no injury that time, however.

A couple of years later, my mother noticed a strange lump on the corner of her eyelid. We waited for it to go away, and when it didn’t, we took her to the vet. When the lab tests came back, our worst fears were confirmed. She had a malignant tumor on her inner eyelid, and the entire inner eyelid would have to be removed, which would entail removing the eye as well. So, with lumps in our throats, we took her to the vet yet again. She came back, one eye short, with stitches where it used to be. That took some getting used to, let me tell you. Every time she blinked her remaining eye, the scar would twitch. Anyway, as before, she was just as frisky as ever within a week. So much so, in fact, that while frolicking in the yard, she snagged her stitches on a thorn bush and ripped them clean out. Back to the vet we went. Anyway, nothing happened that time, and she was the same old dog she ever was, although she did bump into things a lot more than she used to.

Finally, just the other month, my dad noticed that she wasn’t eating. At all. She wasn’t eating, and she never had to go to the bathroom. Guess what? Another trip to the vet. It turns out that a length of her intestine had collapsed in on itself, and had to be removed. Well, she’s getting pretty old, and she didn’t rebound as quickly this time, but she did, and is now back to her old self yet again, although now, for some reason, she is unbelievably flatulent. Oh, well. A little smell never killed anyone.

So, anyway, that’s why my beloved flatulent short-intestined one-eyed nose-pierced Snowball is the best in the world.

“That’s entertainment!” —Vlad the Impaler

Aw geez, I’m tearing up reading about Snowball.

Anyway, “The Amazing Copper Dog” is my beagle. It started out as just “Copper”, after the hound dog in Disney’s “The Fox and the Hound.” My 4 year old named him. It morphed into “The Amazing Copper Dog” when my husband kept muttering, “It’s amazing I haven’t killed that dog yet.” When he was a puppy, he liked to chew some things. Well, EVERYthing really. But now he’s all grown up and only chews plastic McDonald’s Happy Meal toys, so my husband likes him.

Anyway, Amazing is the best because he’s mine. He’s got soulful brown eyes, the softest ears in the world, and loves to cuddle. He’s also very intelligent. I taught him to shake a paw after only 3 days and 400 liver treats.

Now everytime he wants a treat, he comes up and shakes a paw.

All right, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s loyal and sweet.

My doggie, Katie, is the greatest. My family has become very busy these past two years, and the poor dog rarely gets more attention than a pat or two a day. She’s walked every other week or so, since it rains the rest of the time, and my dad refuses to let her in the house. When it’s my turn to feed her, I’m usually more than a little late with her supper. She doesn’t hate us though!

Kate’s content to sit at the kitchen door, licking the glass and watching us with her big brown eyes. Most of the dogs in our neighborhood would become obnoxious being ignored like that, but not my Katie dog. Nope, she’s a good mutt.

Oh, and the best thing about her, she terrorizes Devil Cat, but leaves my kitty alone.

Bear is my American Eskimo, female, almost nine now. Eskies have the least odor of any breed I’be been around. She’s really timid because the other dogs try to get all the attention and that’s probably why she’s so special to me. The only time I don’t like her is if she sneaks into the back room to eat cat turds out of the litter box. Augh! Get away! Don’t lick my face!

It’s your fault that I have no one to blame but myself.

Albert is a 3 year old miniature daschund. He is really sweet and follows me around everywhere I go. Which at times can be kind of annoying because he tends to get under my feet quite a bit. He does have this weird habit of burrowing though that I wonder if other daschund owners have noticed. Before he can go to sleep he needs to be completly covered by something (for example right now he is on my lap and completly inside the front of my jacket). He does this with blankets any pretty much anything else. One time I found him sleeping in the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Any one else have a dog that does this?

A neighbor’s daschund always “blanket-up” for the night. I think they toss a small blanket onto her basket while she’s in it and then she takes a corner in her mouth and walks in a circle until she’s covered by the blanket. The last thing you hear is a tiny sigh…

Oh, I’m gonna keep using these #%@&* codes 'til I get 'em right.

My Labrador as a kid was great. Nobody could get near me, if I got anywhere near him. My great grandma would get a willow branch and try to wack me for not eating lunch or something piddley. I wasn’t in school yet so ma hired her to baby sit. I just stayed by him and played for 3 or 4 hours until ma came mome. He’d do trick for me too. I had him like 17 years.

My cousin had a hunting dog. We’d go out, get full of sticking seeds, and come back to the house. We’d sit there for like 15 minutes and the dog would have all those seeds pulled off our pants and coats.

I have no idea why the dog would pick them off, but it sure was convenient.

*Great topic, Jois!

Canth and NT: you both warmed my heart. Dogs just adopt you and snuggle into your lives, don’t they?

My dog is wonderful; she’s Baskerville, 4 years old, a Lab/Shephard mix who looks like an Akita wandered into the gene pool somewhere. She’s 60 lbs., black/brindle with a silky coal black face and the profile of Anubis. She’s a mutt, adopted from a neighbor who’s dog wandered.

She’s a total love. She’s very quiet; she warbles and croons and yodels in “dinosaur noises” but rarely barks. When she does, it’s an amazing deep, imposing sound that invariably startles here.

She looks like a killer and is the friendlist, sunny hearted, loving dog on the face of the earth. She’s shy, but loves people. Especially kids. She adores kids. She has never bitten anyone, not even as a puppy.

She has 4 white paws and uses them like hands. She loves to have a front paw on the foot of whatever human she has adopted. Under the table, curled up on the couch, she’ll have her chin and one paw draped over a foot.

She is funny, stubborn, loyal, playful and a constant joy. Seeing her happy face greeting me at the door, peering around the edge of shower curtain, or drowsing on the end of the bed is one of the best things that ever happened to me. She’s given me so much more in unconditional love and companionship than I can ever repay.



Messed up the bolding on that one.

Sorry for the unintentional emphasis. (Not that my dog doesn’t deserve it.)