It has to be. Both Rob and the parachutist who carried him out of the plane deserve medals (twenty times!) I know collies are clever and all that but can you imagine what the first time was like?
<stop biting me, lad>
hooowwwlll
<Oh bloody hell you’ve just shat >
hooooowwwwll
<here we go>
jump
Master and dog, both <hooooooowwwwwwwllllllllll>
And Rob won a medal with the Special Air Service. Good dog, Rob.
My pretty poppet, Peepers
is our little hero. She has saved my husband (from being fired, that is) numerous times by waking him up when he oversleeps or forgets to set the alarm. 
Seriously, she’s his furry little alarm clock and my furry little hot water bottle. She has some sort of fetish with my feet and likes to nuzzle them. A lot. Pettin’s? Who cares?
Give her a foot (mine specifically :rolleyes: ) to rub up against anytime! It’s nice to wake up in the night to soft furry warmth wrapped 'round your feet. It is not nice to wake up because kitty has decided it’s time to stick her cold, wet nose betwixt your toes or that they look especially nibblish in the moonlight. :dubious:
Jesper is my little hero because he hunts down the spiders. :eek:
They likely dropped by static line - no tandem jump needed.
Uh-huh. Go and describe how that works with “no tandem jump”.
A boot to the hindquarters and peanut butter on the rip cord?
Well, it’s not parachuting into combat or anything, but…
I was home alone for the weekend once when I was about 16. Friday evening, about 10:30, I’m lying in bed reading. Tammy, as usual, is dozing on the foot of my bed. All the sudden, she’s in full defensive mode, fur standing on-end and barking like crazy. I let her out of my room (because she looks like she’s about to try to charge through the door) and she races downstairs, to the back door. I don’t hear anything other than her so I follow, quickly, turn on the outside light - and see some dude turn, run down the stairs of our deck, and take off into a neighbor’s yard.
I was so freaked out I didn’t even think to call the police until after my parents were home, at which point it seemed stupid to waste their time. But the dog got lots of treats and belly rubs after that.
Also, she once chased a squirrel out of the house.
We had pet rats who turned out to not be both boys after all. Babies ensued. One of my cats, Antoine, really loved to sit next to the cage and watch the rats. He’d put his nose against the cage and the rats would come over and they’d sniff/touch noses through the cage. He was especially interested once the babies came. He would watch them for hours.
One day I heard Antoine’s “tattle” meow. (He was always the one to let us know another cat had done something wrong, like pushed out the window screen or spilled food all over the floor). I went into the room with the rat cage and Antoine was sitting in the middle of the floor, meowing urgently. At his feet was a little pink thing. (They didn’t have fur yet–may not have even opened their eyes yet, in fact. They were really, really tiny.)
Ewwww, I thought. He got one of the babies. I don’t wanna see it but I guess I’ll go get a paper towel and deal with it. Poor little thing. But when I got close to them, I saw that the baby rat wasn’t chewed in half or anything. Wasn’t hurt at all in fact. Still alive, totally fine. It had fallen through the wires of the side of the cage and Antoine had found it (or seen it fall, not sure) and made darn sure that Mommy came and saved his little buddy!
I put the baby back in the cage and the mom rat carried it back over to her little nest. Antoine resumed his perch. I put a strip of cardboard around the bottom of the cage to prevent future accidents.
