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Lets see some dogs

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Salty-dog, eleven years old: half Basenji, quarter Beagle, quarter Australian Shepherd.
I think that particular admixture is called "Fence Jumper."

She and her littermate Sailor gave us more laughter, more genuine delight, than we'd ever had.

Salty swam the river under the Rainbow Bridge one day before my wife's birthday.

Salty Condo.jpg

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Here's Sailor, he's still with us: better than sixty pounds of happiness, with Bat Wing Ears.
Same as littermate Salty: half Basenji, quarter Beagle, quarter Australian Shepherd, he's beside me on the couch as I write this, his backside warm against my thigh.

Treats are the fastest way into their confidence.
He and the late Salty would have done well in politics.
They bribe as well as any politician!

Sailor Trotsky.jpg

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When they were young, they would baroo instead of bark.
Salty barked occasionally, but rarely.

Sailor, on the other hand, would baroo in his first year only; once he got size enough, once his voice box changed, he would howl, but not baroo, and now barks.

If the phone rings, he sings with it, and if he wants something, he'll snuff -- sneeze -- at us.

He's also a bum, and his eyes have their own voice:  "Is that a sammitch?  I too likes sammitches!" -- or anything at all I happen to be eating, doesn't matter what it is, if I'm eating it, he wants it, and those dark eyes speak volumes!

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On 7/12/2021 at 12:48 AM, Derringer Dan said:

Everyone meet Bear-


So we have had Bear now for almost 3 months. Here’s a recent picture-

He has grown a bit :o


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16 hours ago, Father Kit Cool Gun Garth said:


Good memories right there!

Ours was named Streaker, because when he was a pup, he had one speed -- wide open, streaking across the floor, hard as he could run!

Half bench leg Beagle and half Basset, the poor fellow was built so close to the ground, he left three tracks in the snow.

He loved to cuddle and snore, in that order, and not infrequently fell aslee with his muzzle in the kibble dish.

When TV cable was just coming to Athens County, the installers broke for lunch under our backyard oak; sandwiches and beer, and Streaker came bumming over.

They poured him a little beer.

He liked it.

They poured him some more.

They got to laughing and Streaker decided he'd like to become what my santed grandmother called "an Old Soak" ... they thought it comical to see a dog so loaded he staggered and finally rolled over on his side and gave a mournful howl ...

Poor fellow was terribly hung over the next day, he didn't have a morning after, he had a day after, and he'd never touch beer again!

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