Apparently a neighbour spotted the dog outside a shop and went back to tell the guy about this dog that looks just like his dog that went missing years ago. Here someone transcribed the video: "It looks so much like him, can you see him? He's even wearing the yellow tag on his ear." [Inaudible reply] "Can you see him? Here. At the base of the tree." The man walks up to the dog. "Zhora is that you? Georgie?" "Georgie it is you!" "Aww sweet boy, how are you boy" Dog is whining, can't really hear what the man is saying. "What is it? What do you want?" The man is talking to the dog. "Sweet boy" To the shopkeeper: "He's been lost for three years!" Shopkeeper "That's your dog?" "Yes, he is the dog from my yard. I've been looking for him. He recognized me, can you imagine? Can you take a photo of us?" The shopkeeper takes the camera, says something "No they called me, told me that my dog might be here."
I couldn’t watch that video as I know the waterworks would start. The bond between a man and his dog is often underestimated. Except that is, for this little prick sat next to me on the sofa chewing the cushion to bits.
Same here. Id be weeping like a girl We had to put ours down last year he was 18.we Had him ftom a puppy. bearly weeks old i still think i see him in his place now and again. We got his ashes still In an urn in the living room
Fucking hell, don’t start me off. Felt exactly the same after we lost our Staffie a few years back. For months I’d come through the front door and expect him to come bounding towards me. I always swore I’d never get another dog but I’ve had Keith for about 6 months now and I’m glad I let my missus talk me into it.
Bloody dogs. Get me every time. People that haven't had one would struggle to understand the bond and fair enough. I don't understand people that have dogs but don't form that bond with them. Just leave them out the back n that or worse kick em etc. The worst thing about this is that the dog still loves them and wags their tail at them. Ah fuck this. I can't think about it.
I told the mrs i dont want another one It really , really did upset me We dont have kids cos im a jaffa So he was like our surrogate We did look after my brothers labardor scooby when he went away to france for 2 weeks his holiday And scooby din want to go home We only had our rocky to start with cos some dick head mis treating the litter and no one wanted him cos he was the runt of the litter. the others in the litter din reach double figures. he was daft as fuck. But smart with it he knew hours b4 i was going to fit we only picked up on it. Well the mrs did about 5 years down the line. he would behave in a strange way Be very cwtchy n make sure i was laying next to him. Bark at the mrs n run to me. tapping me with his paw He also ate my weed a few times from the table And hed have to climb up n knock it off
They got personality. And they give love without wanting something like cats do I did take a kicking from the guy wacking them. Cos i took objection to him kicking weeks old pups. The broken ribs n black eye was worth it though
I know where you’re coming from. Coming out of the vets with just his lead was fucking horrible but it had to be done. The way I look at it now is that we had 13 years of great times with the mad fucker and my kids got to grow up with him as their pet with all the memories that brought with it. As hard as losing him was I’d say those 13 years made it all worth it.
Growing up with your children is key mate. Hes like thier little/big brother then. Did u keep his ashes after
I did. They’re in a fancy box by the stereo. On account of his fondness for barking along to a bit of thrash metal.
We did too hes on the shelf above where his basket was. His collar is around the urn. Ive been called silly ect for it But we dont care That was where the stero too He was a fan of the stone roses
I’m genuinely welling up here lads reading these lovely recollections of our beloved hounds who have since passed on. In my case, I also had a Jack Russell for around 16 years. We got her as a 6 week old pup from a farmer from Neath so she was always going to be a nutter. Anyway, fast forward 16 years and her behaviour started getting a bit weird, all withdrawn and shaking which was totally of character for a normally turbocharged JRT. One night it got so bad I took her to an emergency vet service in the middle of the night and cried all the way there as I expected to return home alone. Strangely though, they found nothing obviously wrong and she actually rebounded for a couple of days. I then had to go on a business trip to California and was lying in bed in the early hours of the morning when my mobile rang. I had the heaviest sinking feeling in the world as I knew exactly who was calling and what the conversation would involve. My worst fears were confirmed and I remember for god knows what reason, getting up, getting dressed and wandering aimlessly around the area outside of the hotel talking myself into believing it was a bad dream. Alas I knew full well it wasn’t and I somehow had to drag myself through a business meeting later that day, when all I could think of was that my dog wouldn’t be there to greet me when I got home and ffs don’t cry in front of your boss and a new potential customer. The dreadful moment when I put the key in my front door the next day was a feeling I would not wish on my worst enemy. The first thing I saw when I got through the door was the travel crate she was taken to the vets in and her collar and lead on top. That was it for me. I cried solid for at least an hour and my wife the same. The same emotion every day for at least two weeks. The fact that I was not there with her in her final moments brought on a guilt that I swear I have not been able to fully overcome to this day. We have another dog now, which I steadfastly stated I would never get as I could not put myself through that pain again, but as is always the case, I was gradually ground down by the wife and kids. I’m actually glad I did cave now as it has massively helped me get over the grief, which quite honestly never seemed like going away. As much as I used to call my mother weird for having her cat’s ashes in an urn on the mantelpiece, “Missy” also remains with us to this day albeit in powder form in a box under my bed. Her photo also remains in my bedside drawer which I get it out occasionally to say goodnight (and sorry) to her, but only when the Daschund isn’t listening!
Fair play to you mate for standing up to that guy. You may have lost the physical battle, but you scored a significant moral victory. Karma will take care of people who make animals suffer in that way.
