Just lost my hairy buddy.

my condolences

Sorry to hear that

On my eighth birthday my father bought me a bulldog, a fat, little bulldog. I named him Prince Henry Stout. He was strong. He would chase my pet turkey; he would chase a squirrel up the tree. I raised him, I trained him, I fed him, I groomed him, I took care of him, I loved that dog. More anything in the world I loved that dog.

My father gave me a handful of cherry bombs and M-80s and said: "You're gonna train this dog to be a protector". So every Saturday afternoon I got behind a little dummy my dad built and tossed cherry bombs and M-80s at the dog - Boom! Boom! The dog was scared at first but after awhile he got angry and he would come at the dummy. He'd get the dummy and rip it apart. The head was off. Shirt was gone.

So at thirteen years old on my birthday my dad got me a twelve gauge shotgun. We're going hunting. I was so excited. We went out to the clearing in the woods, my dad laid his gun down, took my gun and laid it down and said: "Son, today you're gonna learn to control your emotions. You're gonna do things that some men are unable and unwilling to do. Follow me".

I followed my dad, we went around this clump of trees, there was a corral built and there was Prince Henry Stout chained in the middle of the corral. My dad took out a pocket full cherry bombs, put them in my hand and said: "Get in the corral, here's a lighter; I want you to light those cherry bombs and throw them at the Prince. You're gonna face manhood. You're gonna fight that dog to the death. He's gonna kill you or you're gonna kill him. Now."

BOOM! He was on me. He was on me like flies on shite. I had no chance. I got my arm up between his teeth and my neck. WOMP! Went down in the mud, rolled over, rolled over, the dog is fighting and biting and scratching and kicking and I'm screaming and crying, I'm grabbing him around the head, I stand up and POW! Fall with my weight on him and CRACK! Hear his neck break. He's dead. He's not breathing, he's not yelping, he's not biting. I'm covered in blood. I stand up, wipe the blood off. I licked it. And my dad said: "Welcome to manhood!"

Sorry for your loss

I'm sorry Bos.

Sorry for your loss. Tipping back a little BuffaloTrace to Sherman this minute.

Sorry for your loss man...

It seems like so many of us lost a best friend this year

quote:

---

GeorgeTheGreek

---

I don't understand this thing you're doing with your posts now.

Yep. He went and took a leak. Came back in laid down on his pillow and just went to sleep. The wife is a basket case right now.