Tag: dogs

Mom Sez “Rhys is Not a Chew Toy”

Three legged Shepherd Wyatt Ray learns not to chew on small dogs like Rhys.

Oh little Rhys, look, I promise, I won’t hurt you. You’re just so furry and fluffy, you remind me of my stuffies! I just want to use you as a chew toy!

Oh, don’t get offended, come on, don’t hide behind your Mom. Trust me, it’s nothing pawsonal.

I do it to all of the small dogs in the park, you know, the ones who are lovers and not fighters, the ones who don’t want to wrestle and bite me on the neck?

Your Mom is pretty cool for bringing you around, not once, but twice! I’m glad she’s not afraid of my extroverted pawsonality. So are my pawrents.

Rhys, did you notice I don’t try to chew on your big brother Dillon like I do to you? I never got to meet Spirit Peyton, but something tells me he and I would’ve gotten along great.

Little Puppy Lesson for the Day: Here’s a tip for you kiddo; stand tall like Dillon, and bruisers like me will leave you alone!

Uh oh. Mom says I have no bidness teaching you how to be a dog, when I can’t even control myself. I better shut up now, or she’s never going to let me go to the dog park or play with you again!

Later dude.

Look What I Can Do!

Three legged amputee rescue German Shepherd dog Wyatt Ray goes to American Dog School in Fort Collins.

I can sit with other dogs. And not try to eat them!

I’m still going to dog skewl in town. The Belt Buckle says I graduated from basic classes (whatever that means) and now I just go every Saturday morning to group therapy.

All us dogs get together and we do things like parade around eachother, sit, stand, stay, blah, blah blah.

There are all sorts of dogs there, even little ones, but mostly it’s a big dawg thang. We get along pretty good, except for one poor guy named Wyley who keeps trying to pick fights.

Dad and Mom say I’m not the worst dog in the class, and they’re right! There are dogs worse than me! Before I started going to class, I couldn’t be anywhere near other dogs without letting them know I’m The Sherriff. Now, I still have to let them know I’m coming, but once I get there I really don’t feel the need to keep announcing my presence. I’m big and bad enough they know I’m there.

 This skewls pretty kool, I can go to as many classes as I want to, for as many years as we want. Mom says we’ll be going forever, this skewl things is supposed to keep me in shape!

Game Over?

Three Legged Wyatt Ray meets Tami of American Dogs School Fort Collins Colorado

Since I busted out of Oaktown, I’ve been put through a lot of training devices, books and consultations. Apparently my pawrents think my behavior needs some modifications.

They don’t like the fact that I’m so expressive, like when I bark my head off at the enemy, or go after small dogs who look like squirrels to me. Yo Mom and Dad, this is my JOB!

I think I’ve been pretty nice in tolerating their attempts to make me into a wussy.  I thought I had seen all there was to see when it came to dog training.

But last week, this lady blew my mind.

We met some rodeo chick in Fort Collins who supposedly can tame even the wildest, biggest beast. She runs the Bad Boy Dog Skewl in town, and guess who got thrown into her rehab program?

She told Mom and Dad she guarantees they’ll get the dog they want.

Lady, you might have a big belt buckle, but you’re dealing with a member of the Oaktown Pack.

Wyatt. Ray. Dawg.

Put your dukes up!

Game ON!

The Road is My Middle Name

Three legged German Shepherd tripod Wyatt Ray Dawg hits the road in an RV to the California desert.

Ok how’s this: “Wyatt Ray Road Dawg.” What do you think?

We packed up and left my Grandpawrent’s house in Los Angeles last week. Now we are in the desert, by this big stinky lake they call the “Salton Sea.” This place is craaaaaaazy. Lots of kooky campers, some wild desert dawgs, coyotes, and crazy jets zooming around most days. They’re loud but they don’t bug me a bit.

The place we are camped still isn’t as nutty as my Grandpawrent’s house was. Over there they had people coming and going all the time, and lots of little kids who kept running from me. 

They were loud and made me all nervous and jumpy. I had to constantly be on alert there. Every time I barked they got more and more afraid of me. I wasn’t trying to hurt them, I was just being as energetic as they were, you know what I mean?

The funny thing is, they didn’t seem to get that maybe if they didn’t act so afraid of me, I wouldn’t have been so nervous. Duuuuh.

It’s pretty quiet here in the desert, and I like it that way. When dogs do come around, I tend to get pretty excited, but I think I’m getting better at sending silent psychic messages that tell them to be cool, instead of barking my head off.

Oh hey, here’s a picture of me eating these yummy raw rib bones that I got for my BIRTHDAY. Yeah, I turned 1 year old in January! Yipee! Hoppy Birthday to me! My pawrents are so lame, they didn’t make a big deal out of it like some Tripawd pawrents do around here. That’s alright, I’ll forgive them….this time. Maybe next year I’ll get some trachea!

Blood Brothers

Tripod dog Wyatt Ray gets beat up by four legged Labrador Riley.

Oh Cousin Riley, why did you have to try to hump my head?  I know you’re old and cranky, but I just wanted to play. I didn’t mean to get on your nerves. You shouldda told me you were tired, instead of pinning me on the ground and biting my neck so hard.

Sheesh, if you had just told me that, I wouldn’t have bit your ear in three places.

What’s a little blood between cousins? Glad you’re OK.

P.S. Mom says that she’s glad I defended myself. There’s nothing worse than seeing a Tripawd getting nailed by a quadruped.