No Takers on Free to Good Home...

Dogmom wants to know why nobody seems to want a really cute dog that keeps running away for fun. (Three Times is Dogmom's Limit)

Opie says that obviously, three is NOT the limit, since he keeps escaping and running and more and more people keep trying to get him to come back home, including dogmom.

Yesterday, he ran away again and didn't come when dogmom came home. And didn't come when Randi and dogmom tried to catch him. And didn't come when the neighbors in the neighborhood behind our house (seven of them!) tried to catch him.

And didn't come when dogmom screamed because he crossed Bavaria Road. And didn't come when he was seen running down the new section of Highway 312 (that isn't open yet, thank both dog and GOD!)

Know what made him stop?

He finally caught the squirrel he'd been chasing for four hours.

Dogmom saw him holding something and told him to drop it. He did.

Then he nudged it with his nose. And he started to run away again.

She said, "No, you gotta show me what you got." And he did.

And she nabbed him. And then she buried the squirrel under the pine tree where he used to live.

Damded dog.

Meanwhile, can somebody explain to me why I had to sit in the kennel for four hours while Opie was having all this fun?

I thought not.

Wuf Ya!

All's Quiet ...

Things are kind of quiet at our house today. 'Course, dogmom says that's because the noisemakers are going to Dog Pad to play. We don't quite agree with that assessment... Floyd makes lots of noise sometimes...

He knocks things off the counters. And then he runs back and forth like a herd of whatevers. And he meows incessantly in the middle of the night.

Anypaws, Tory asked Dogmom to bring our tie-out stake to Dog Pad so she could alter it so that it has Opie's cable permanently attached and so that he can't get it off. Dogmom will show pictures of it if it works.

And, we're going to try to train Opie with one of those shock-collar trainers and see if it will motivate him to stay close to home... or at least to come when he's called. Nothing else seems to work.

And, oh yeah... Dogmom says she thinks I broke another tooth!

Wuf Ya! - Gomer

Three Times is Dogmom's Limit

Free to a good home:

Strong-willed, muscular mixed-breed that will not come when called. His 48-pound frame is misleading; he's stronger than most 90-pound dogs with attitude. No one under 200 pounds or who can bench-press less than 300 pounds may take this dog.

He can jump a six-foot fence from a sitting position, run faster than most rabbits, mice and squirrels, and outsmart most civil engineers as to the most direct route to get somewhere without causing traffic to stop. Especially adept at twisting such that claw-clasp, spring-load and even screw-end cables come loose if he's motivated to leave the space you've regulated him to.

He's incredibly cute, face turning grey, and wrinkles his forehead when he thinks he might be in trouble. (Which is daily lately.) He will be 8 years old in two weeks (assuming he lives that long.) You can call him whatever you want; he doesn't answer to "Opie" anypaws.

Please send serious inquiries only to dogsayeview at aol dot com.

(Sorry dogs - dogmom stole my keyboard this morning and said she's posting, since last night Opie ran away for the third time this week. She did not go after him or chase him. She put a bowl of food and water in the garage and left the big door open about as tall as Opie is. About 25 minutes later, he came in to get a drink and when he started to eat, she hit the button and closed the door. He tried to run out, but didn't get there fast enough.)

I think she's really really mad at him this time. This morning, she took him outside on a leash to pee instead of letting him run around on the tie-out cable like me.

Wuf Ya!

Opie Ran Away ... (again)

It was a dark and stormy night.


We were supposed to get 7 inches of snow. It was, instead, pouring rain and spitting sleet with high winds.

Weather not fit for woman nor beast.

What does the Dopey Opie do?

He runs away again.

Dogmom's lipid. And war-reed. And wet.

She came home twice to get dry socks and shoes or boots. And a dry coat. And a different hat.


After 2.5 hours, she said she didn't care if he ever came back.

(We know she didn't mean it.)

Meanwhile, Opie's trekking through our neighborhood. And the one behind ours. And the one closest to the new 312 highway. And the one across Bavaria Road. And the one behind that. And ours again. And the wetlands behind the house. And the construction area. And ours again.


Dogmom came inside. She hugged me and called me a good boy. She hugged Floyd.

She turned off all the lights. And she sat in the dark for a while.

Then, she got up. And she grabbed the keys. And she opened the garage door all the way. And she got in our truck. And she started it. And she started to back out of the garage into the driveway.

And she heard a clunk. And she stopped.


And Opie's standing by the side of the truck.

She had run over the tie-out cord that was still attached to him. So he couldn't go anywhere.


So she grabbed the cord and put him in the back of the truck.

And she drove back into the garage from the driveway.

And she came inside and left Opie in the truck. For forever.



Eventually, she went out and got him and put him in the doggie jail.
He was wearing his soaking wet sweatshirt. She took it off.
His paws were bleeding. She cleaned them and bandaged him.
He was shivering. She gave him a blanket and dried him with his towel.
Then she closed to the door on the doggie jail and left him inside.


I think he's in BIG trouble.

Wuf Ya!