My dog died suddenly and without warning.

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My dog is my wingman. She gardens with me, hangs out with me, and protects the house with me.

It took 10 years after my last dog to bring myself to get another one.
 
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We have a cat that is like a dog crossed with a two year old human. He is constantly pestering you for love.

It's not an age thing. He's not a kitten anymore.
 
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My dog does the prairie dog stance when he wants attention. He does it to new people. He always comes up and does it in my arms to get belly rubs. He sits looking out the bay window in his favorite spot now. Sorry to hear your dog died. Its definitely something everyone dreads.
 
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I used to love taking my dog out for walks late at night, especially during Fall/Winter, watching the stars and enjoying the cool air. One year at Thanksgiving she was able to get the turkey on the counter (she was a big dog, and was able to reach it by standing on her hind legs and placing her front legs on the counter). My family wasn't angry with her, we all thought it was funny, and still tell that story years later.

She was twelve years old when I had to have her put down (she had cancer). I miss her everyday.

Condolences, @OrionBalls .
 
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Where I work, I park behind the building in an alley. Across the alley is a house, kind of a trashy one.
One spring, I noticed they had gotten a new dog, some sort of Beagle pup. For a while it was pretty unremarkable. Neighbor got dog, ok whatever. Back to the day to day grind.
A year later, I had started to notice that they had been leaving the dog outside more and more. Eventually it was always outside, hitched to a tree with a thick metal chain. A metal chain! For a 50lb dog?
Over the summer this poor thing had been left outside all day long, in the heat, with not even a bowl of water for it. I could see their backyard from where I work and I never saw anyone playing with the dog and I knew the house had children in it. It was clearly being neglected.
So I started filling up its water bowl during the day. It didn't like me.
I started bringing dog food from home as well. Still didn't like me but tolerated me.
I did this for a month. Then just asked the neighbors if I could take their dog because they weren't going to care for it. They let me take him home. His name was AJ.
AJ was never that affectionate of a dog. He liked getting belly rubs and he liked to play, but he also liked doing his own thing. I had a big yard and an invisible fence from previous dogs. I let him run around outside all day and let him in at night if he wasn't busy chasing around night critters.
Well one year the invisible fence broke without me knowing, and he figured it out and started wandering outside of the yard. I eventually fixed it but he had figured out he can just run past it.
Well, he ended up just wandering around the neighborhood after that. He never got in any trouble, he just liked wandering. Oh, and eating cat food. A local business was some sort of cat sanctuary and he would apparently stop by to eat cat food all the time. Despite running around all day, he got pretty fat because of that. Whatever, he was happy.
We got in a new rhythm over the next couple of years. He would run off in the morning. I would come home for lunch (I am blessed to work near where I live) and he would be waiting for me in a shady spot near the front of the house. I'd eat lunch, he'd get a morsel from my meal. I'd go back to work, he'd go wandering again. When I came home from work, he'd be waiting for me again. I'd make dinner and feed him (he probably didn't need it but whatever) and give him attention and he'd be back wandering again.
Last year, going into work I found him hit on the side of the road, dead. Fucker didn't even bother to pull him off the road. I wrapped him in a blanket I had in my car, dropped him off at home and had to wait until I came home for the day to bury him. I knew this was how it was going to end eventually. I just couldn't keep him cooped up.

You were a good dog AJ.
 
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OK here's a try:
When I was a kid I found this stray, neutered Basset Hound about one year old at the neighbor's house trying to make nice with their Dalmatian. According to them the poor guy had followed them back from the park to beg for food. My family already had one basset, so like any dumbass kid I asked the nieghbors if I could er, 'have' this one. They instantly agreed (take this problem off our hands? yes plz) so I took the dog back to my place to meet our female BH, Abby, and named him "Lucky". We put up found dog posters all over the neighborhood but nobody ever responded - my parents guessed that someone had thrown him into the park on purpose instead of surrender him properly. That hound dog was smart and sweet. He used to sneak out of the yard when we were all at school/work, and we only caught on when he didn't time his return correctly and we saw him walking back towards the house as we were driving home. Abby and Lucky would cuddle in a pile during the night. It was sweet.

Lucky was the best basset hound you could want. He didn't wander off when we moved to the countryside, he killed copperhead snakes for us, and Abby adored him and couldn't function without him. He was a great scent hound. Lucky could track you through the woods with a 25-minute head start (given that's not hard for bassets, but we never trained this behavior. he would notice if you were gone and track you down for his own amusement, I guess.) The poor thing got stuck in a creek once because the bank was too steep for him to climb. Dad found him the next morning covered in red clay, next to what looked like a clay luge slide from where he was struggling to get back out of the creek. One more thing I remember: we had these old guys who would bring ~50 coonhounds to our place every so often for a rabbit hunt. Lucky would get so stoked by this, but he could never keep up with the pack. Their legs were like 2x longer than his. Watching him hustle up at the rear, turn before they did, and get lapped by the coonhounds anyway was hilarious.

Another anecdote: for my 16th birthday I baked my own birthday cake. Just before we were going to cut the cake, I set it down on a deck chair to prep the table. When I came back for it, I found Lucky on the opposite side of the cake, gently licking the icing off of the cake. I guess he hoped that if he just tasted the icing nobody would notice.

My dad loved Lucky way more than he wanted to admit. When the writing was on the wall Dad even took him to the beach for one last hurrah and everything. Never known him to take such exception with the end of a pet's life - he rather unceremoniously had Abby euthanized when she slipped a disc and couldn't walk on her own any longer. Lucky kept on keeping on though, and lived for 15 years. I still miss that dog.

I'll hug Bear (dog I have now) twice for you. It is so sad to lose a pet unexpectedly.
 
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Greens liked his morning spoons. The alarms went off, and suddenly foot dog became spoon dog, and then there was fifteen more minutes of warm spoons. Still don't know what his breed is. He and his seeing eye brother wandered up to the house at eight weeks old (we get a lot of dump dogs out here, especially if they're "bastard puppies"), covered in ticks, and marched right into the house, like they owned the place. No one claimed them, and so they became ours. Beans is currently confused. I don't think they've ever spent time away from each other, except at the kennel when they had adjoining cells and even then, they still went out for playtime together. He was always blind, from the time I met him. But I've never known a dog to more confidently walk directly into a door than this guy. He was so sure of himself. Damn, this really sucks.
 
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I grew up with a lab that absolutely loved the water in typical lab fashion. Two or three times a summer we'd go up to a family member's camp on a lake for the weekend. There were times when my dad had to carry her out of the water at the end of the day because she just wouldn't come in. One summer she decided that she'd just swim away and wouldn't let anyone catch her. She'd probably have swum to the other side of the lake if we chased her.

As a stereotypical lab, her other love was food. So, we tempted her with half a hotdog to get her on land so someone could grab her. We were running late leaving for at the end of the weekend and I'm sure us kids were being little shits and the parents were stressed. The dog would not get out of the water. She wised up to what treats meant to tempt her out of the water meant, so she holed up underneath the dock in a spot that where it was hard to get at her. My mom really didn't like gving her table scraps or people food but my brother and I were ordered to use as many hotdogs as it took to get her out. It ended up being 3 or 4 before my brother and I could get a firm hold on her when she stuck her head out to get another piece of hotdog.

She was a great dog. She'd know right where we were at the second turn before the camp even if we hadn't been there for a year or two.
 
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OrionBalls said:
Greens liked his morning spoons. The alarms went off, and suddenly foot dog became spoon dog, and then there was fifteen more minutes of warm spoons. Still don't know what his breed is. He and his seeing eye brother wandered up to the house at eight weeks old (we get a lot of dump dogs out here, especially if they're "bastard puppies"), covered in ticks, and marched right into the house, like they owned the place. No one claimed them, and so they became ours. Beans is currently confused. I don't think they've ever spent time away from each other, except at the kennel when they had adjoining cells and even then, they still went out for playtime together. He was always blind, from the time I met him. But I've never known a dog to more confidently walk directly into a door than this guy. He was so sure of himself. Damn, this really sucks.
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Oof. All the hugs my fellow flightless fruit.

My dad owned a pair of hounds- sisters. Neither was blind but they were tied at the hip. One died of old age a couple years before the other and the dog did eventually figure it out and had a couple more happy years.

When they were young as hunting breeds will do they loved to get out of the yard. Over the fence. Under the fence. Under the bricks put in front of the fence.... about every which way but through the fence and im pretty sure they'd have done that if they ever figured out how to chew or barrel through wood. Jiggle the gate latch open till dad figured that one and started putting a deadbolt on it. Repeat...

All the neighbors knew they weren't supposed to be out but whose dogs they were. Thankfully they were also sweeties who loved all people (God help you if you were a small critter though. Hounds. Ok?) So it was more of an endearing "oh gee those darn dogs go lure them with treats and call owner" sort of thing than any real disaster.

I'm pretty sure the only reason this stopped was because they got older and the backyard was fort knox by the end of it. Too much effort. But it was a fairly funny thing for many years.
 
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Used to have a bulldog. Old English, 110lb truck of a creature. Mostly muscle, though he still had a potbelly which with his proportions made him ascending and descending stairs look something like a sausage on hydraulics.

He had the personality of a grumpy old man - if you hugged him for too long (Usually 30+ seconds, and you were always gonna find out because frankly he was a very huggable dog) he'd grumble a bit and nudge you off.

He also had a very protective personality and a distinct detestation of people he did not trust. And unlike most dogs, who demonstrated their umbrage through barking, he was actually quite clever in how he would intimidate them. Some 12-ish years ago now, a plumber comes in to fix my sink. I warn him when he arrives "Hey, I got a big dog, he's not aggressive but he's a little bit of a tough guy so just be chill around him." He laughs and says "Oh I've been around rottweilers, pitbulls, great danes, none of 'em scare me, it'll be okay." I let him in, we're discussing the issue with my sink and

badump
badump

Dog comes out from my room upstairs, and starts his gallumping down the steps - as I stated, he looks like he's doing a very jiggly rendition of the worm - and the plumber says "What the Hell is that!?" I laugh and I say "That's the big dog."

After some reassurance and some petting later, plumber goes to work on the sink, the drain was fucked up for some reason I cannot be assed to remember.

Dog does not like that this person is still here after five minutes. He decides he is going to bully this man. He goes to where I kept packs of soda cans and such for gathering, barbecues, etc and he grabs the only one his goofy lack of neck would let him reach: A 12 pack of canned sweet tea.

The then somehow hauls the thing over - and I watched it firsthand, I know what I saw and he was lugging it like he personally caught a large tuna and wanted to show it off - to the plumber, and tears off a side. He then pulls out one of the cans with his big underbite of a jaw.

POP

Busts the can open in one bite. Sweet tea everywhere. He goes in, pulls out another can after tearing up the box further.

POP

Another busted can.

And he does this for every fucking can. It's a mess, the plumber and I are in shock and I gotta clean that shit for a good hour afterwards. The only reason I didn't stop him was because I was rendered actually gormless.

Plumber finishes his job as I finish cleaning, and he leaves as soon as I hand him the check in a hurry.

Meanwhile, that fat bastard of a dog is just sitting there, practically smug about his bullying of some random guy.

The most amusing part is, that dog did not have a single mean bone in his body, I remember him specifically babying around another dog I had gotten (A pug puppy - it was that or it was gonna be put down so I took her, it felt wrong not to) and he took to her very well. He was similarly kind with kids, old people, other dogs of differing ages. He just did not like someone he did not know coming into my house. I still laugh about that and other antics of his to this day. Been dead 10 years, but his legacy'll live on forever in my heart at least.
 
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My dachshund despises niggers and faggots. She bsrks at them. She also howls at sirens no matter the time. My old dog ate most of the furniture in my house when he was a puppy. He would whine if you went into the shower because he couldn't see you through the curtain, so he would pop his head in and calm down. My mom's other dog is afraid of trash bags, and once ate my mom's seafood plate because he's a big dog and she left it in a low table.

And, and my dachshund barks at the rain, at tree branches, and chases flies.

I'm sorry my kiwi friend...
 
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Daddy's Little Kitten said:
My dachshund despises niggers and faggots. She bsrks at them. She also howls at sirens no matter the time. My old dog ate most of the furniture in my house when he was a puppy. He would whine if you went into the shower because he couldn't see you through the curtain, so he would pop his head in and calm down. My mom's other dog is afraid of trash bags, and once ate my mom's seafood plate because he's a big dog and she left it in a low table.

And, and my dachshund barks at the rain, at tree branches, and chases flies.

I'm sorry my kiwi friend...
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My dachshund, may she rest in peace, had a thing against spics. Didn't mind white people at all, but vehemently hated all spics. No one believed me when I told them I had a racist dog. I just always said "She's German, what do you expect?"
 
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I'm not a dog person, but I've never met an animal I couldn't make friends with. the area I live is full of fellow poors and their dumb shitty dogs that they never keep on leashes because they're retarded, so every so often I'll be walking out to my car and suddenly some dog will come screaming at me like they're gonna bark me to death. then the owner comes scrambling up with the OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY and yelling at the dog and meanwhile the dog and I are already friends. this is my superpower.
 
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