RIP Largest Grizzly Bear on the Planet

KC, a former roommate of mine had a large dog (years before I met him) that could have studied from the same book as Freddie. He used to tell a story about coming home one day to find someone had tried to rob his apartment. The door was ajar, and on entry he found all of his stereo components and a few other things stacked neatly just inside the door, ready to go. The would-be thief on the other hand was sitting in the chair across the room, with his hands laid flat on his knees.
Sheeba was a Great Dane/Doberman cross. I saw pics, looked 100% like a Doberman, but at the size of a large Dane. He actually left the guy sitting there sweating it out under Sheeba's watchful stare while he dealt with the getting home routine, made a snack, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, etc. Mike wasn't the friendliest looking guy either (long hair, bearded, tattoos (he was a tat artist), sort of a biker look). He sat down, put the TV on, ate and had half his beer. Then he spoke to the thief for the first time, said the only six words during the whole encounter. "Put it back and get out." The thief was happy (under his and and Sheeba's supervision) to put the stereo components back in the cabinet and leave.

Off topic again...

When I was young we had a Black Lab. He was a big boy, at the time show size was up to 24 1/2" at the shoulder, and a hunter could be up to 26 1/2". Dusty was 28 1/2" at the shoulder and 135 lbs. He also had quite a personality and a sense of humour.

So one day Dusty is sitting at the patio door mumbling and grumbling to himself, my mom looks out the kitchen window and sees someone in the yard. She watches for a bit, sees him go over the fence and do something at a utility box, hop back over to do something at the one in our yard, and so on. Now, normally the folks that work on those sort of things are good about knocking on doors to let people know they're working. This guy must have parked in front of the neighbour's house on the other side of our back fence, and couldn't be bothered to walk around the corner and knock.

So, my mom let Dusty out to take care of his business. Knowing he'd normally be done in a minute or two, she gave him 5-10 minutes and then went to the door to see if he was done. She found the utility worker standing with his arms out to the sides, pinned with his shoulderblades flat against the garage wall, with Dusty standing there with a paw on each of his shoulders "explaining" (serious rolling growl) his mistake. He was having fun with it, his tail was wagging but of course the guy was more focused on the remarkably large (from 2" from his nose) teeth in his face and couldn't see that. She told him to "Let him down" and he did.

Word spread fast. After that day it didn't take long before every utility worker, cable/hydro/phone knocked on our door before going near the yard.

Dusty spent the rest of the day in a great mood, laughing.

Then there was Prince. He was a shepherd cross. When I turfed the guy I was living with I inherited the dog. He was the sweetest dog. There are a fair number of stories that I remember and I may get to them later. But the one that matches this thread is as follows.

Prince was one of those dogs that knew where his yard ended and would not leave it even if the gate was open. It was great, we got no Mormons or door to door salesmen. You go up a driveway that has a dog laying starring out an open gate. One day there were a group of us hanging out in the kitchen and Prince goes off. He was also a good door bell. the odd thing about it was he kept going off and that was odd because he would stop and wait for the person to come to the door. We were wondering what the He**? I asked the last guy in if he had closed the gate, I got an "of course not", but then he was thinking about it as Prince kept at it, yes we were vaguely impaired. "Oh **** a 'certain person is coming over'! We all jumped up and ran out to the driveway and there he was on the roof of his stupid little truck with Prince doing the jump, snarl, deep bark. Did I mention that he despised this guy.

One time he was waiting on someone and Prince was growling not letting him past the entry way. All of a sudden he lunged at his leg and grabbed the guy's kneecap. Didn't do it very hard, didn't even break the skin, but he was saying "I can take you out this easy." Suffice it to say he didn't come over all that often. Come to find out he was a wife beater and some how Prince knew and dealt with him accordingly.

Another time one of CT's roommates (not the nicest person) was over. We were playing ball with Prince, he would launch himself off the porch and go get it. The roommate's turn he faked him out and Prince realized and came back, 'OK you got me' happy look. then the guy did it again, when Prince came back this time he had a much less happy look and was watching him much more closely. When he tried to fake him out again he found a dog on his arm, again not breaking the skin, just a warning. I took the ball from the guy and told Prince to let go and threw his ball for him. The guy grabbed his coat and left, which was odd since he had arrived in CT's car.

I've written stories here about my border collie and lab mix Skipper here before but Harley remind me of a lesson Skip taught me. Dogs judge character better than most people do.

I hadn't had her long (pound rescue) and she got in front of me and in between the person I was dealing with and wouldn't move. She couldn't be moved either and I wasn't happy. As it turned out this chap cost me a lot of money and dealing with the police time. You don't always meet the finest people in the antique business.
It happened a few times after that as well and every time I was well warned and armed with the information that this person needed watching. She was never wrong.

Steve.

Tom and CT have mentioned my two favorite dogs. Irish Wolfhound and a Rottweiler and not because I've owned one but because because friends did.

The Irish Wolfhound was Kilarney. The first introduction to Kilarney was interesting to say the least. I had just met his keeper and being a true Irishman he had no master, and was invited over and when I got there he pointed to a nice comfortable chair and said sit down.
Just as I got comfortable this gigantic head appeared to my right and promptly drops on my shoulder with a great self satisfied sigh. Kilarney had settled in for a visit. Every visit I might add went like that or I should say started like that because as Tom found out puppy petting was in your future. Lots and lots of puppy petting.

This is best a accomplished to the dogs, in this case Kilarney's, satisfaction if the head is firmly in your lap or at least every visit I had.
Due to the unfortunate fact that Irish Wolfhounds only live on average 6 to 7 years Kilarney was followed by others and everyone was a lover but none were ever Kilarneys equal at squeezing out every drop available.

Steve.

Now Mush's story.

When most people hear Rottweiler they picture a pant leg going down the street in the dogs mouth with a leg still in it and I'm sure that is often true. Not so The Mush. Yes he did have a dignified Rottweiler name but when my pal called up and announced he had a puppy he told me what it was. It was one of those fancy German names such as Baron Von Something Something.
When I sat down in my favorite chair all eight weeks of Baron Von Something Something burst out of the bedroom and skittered down the hallway full of enthusiasm and vigor and landed at the foot of the chair in a wiggling heap and I said come here Mush and the rest was history for the Baron.

Mush was a disaster as a Rottweiler but an absolute champ as a lover. It wasn't long before he learned to scoot down the hall when he heard my voice and leap into my lap with far too many slobbery kisses. I found it amazing just how fast and strong a Rottweiler is when he is determined to deliver those slobbery kisses despite your best efforts. It seems that I was one of a few that were awarded this honour.

Like all good things it ended when he got to 140# and I had to wait until he got to the chair and landed before I sat down. Then the sneaky so and so would wait until I figured he was outside and I'd sit down and then he would ambush me with the lap leap.

He never growled,barked or was aggressive with cats or other dogs even if he was challenged. His only problem was he was a leaner. He'd slide up beside you, sit down and lean against your leg with his full weight. Now that got interesting if you didn't see him. Even better with a few adult beverages.

Peoples reaction was varied. Most grabbed their little dogs and children and scurried off fearfully. Some were amazed that he wasn't laying the area bare and those of us that knew him felt good about having the chance to.

Steve.

Our chihuahua Boots was 18. I think it's the effort of pumping the blood harder or something that kills big dogs early. All you can do is love them, keep them happy, and be glad of the time you had.

Tom,

That is why I never had one either. I watched my friend grieve and then go and get the next puppy knowing full well where it would lead. I just wasn't that strong of character. When Skipper was gone in 1982 I just couldn't get another dog.

I have a close friend who has about 3 months left because of cancer. She will leave behind a parrot who was her mothers from a young girl and was left to her when her mother died and now will be left with my buddy, her husband, and he will leave to his son when his turn comes.

My mother told the story of when she was a girl in England and her friends parents had one of the local pubs. When she went to visit one day there was a large cage with an equally large parrot in it that hadn't been there before. Being 12 she just reached in and started petting the parrots head and when the parent saw this they yelled at her to get her hand out of the cage.
Of course she stopped petting the parrot when she turned around to see what was wrong and the parrot took a finger in it's beak very gently and tossed her hand in the air and thrust it's head under it as it came down and the petting commenced once again, much to the parrots satisfaction.

The bird had attacked anyone who got into range including the original owner.

The parrot had belonged to a seafaring Great Uncle of the girls who took it with him every trip and into retirement and on his passing it went to the girls parents. It was over 60 years old at that time.

Steve.

To think, this all started with a giant Grizzly???

Doberwawa? Being in Britain, we won't have that. If a chihuahua dog was the father, do you suppose somebody put him up to it?