Tag: three legged dog

Ranger Referees Monkeydog vs. Monkeybutt

Tripawds three legged dogs meet up at a member party in Nevada.

Three legged dogs, unite!

Wherever you are, always remember that somewhere out there you have a comrade who’s watching your back.

No matter where you are, there’s a Tripawd friend you can turn to when the going gets ruff.

The Nevada Pawty

A few weeks ago I got to meet fellow Tripawd Ranger at our Tripawds Pawty in Nevada.

Ranger is a  Tripawd like me, but a little older. He thought I was just a kid because I kept getting in his face.

Hey, isn’t that how you’re supposed to say “I wanna PLAY!”?

Ranger made it very clear that he was in charge. I thought he was cool. See how I let him attack me?

He thought I was obnoxious though. Still, we hung out and didn’t kill eachother.

But wait, there’s more . . .

Rocket Meets His Match

At the pawty, this white fluff ball showed up.

I thought perhaps it was an appetizer.

So I lunged toward it, and barked really loud to see what it was.

But then the fluff ball jumped up! He was  a scruffy little thing. After looking at him, I realized he would not have made the most satisfying meal.

Then the scruffy appetizer let out a very. big. bark.

“Whooooah buddy! I just wanna smell you! Chill!” I said to him.

But no luck.

Rocket didn’t want to be my friend, and he took over the couch too. In fact, he looked pretty mad that he was there.

His Mom, who is very sweet and beautiful, thought I was the greatest. She said I was a lot like her Spirit Rugby. I took that as a great compliment.

After a while, Rocket calmed down and even fell asleep. Everyone gave him all sorts of attention. He’s supposed to be famous or something.

He tolerated our racket for the afternoon though, and when it was over, you could tell he was glad to be outta there!

Before we said our goodbyes, Rocket’s Mom made us put on our silly hats, and take this picture to show the world that the Monkeydog versus Monkeybutt Match definitely didn’t lead to bloodshed.

See how we’re all so hoppy?

Everyone was so cool. Thanks for coming to my pawty! Can we do it again sometime?

I promise not to try to eat Rocket!

3-Legged Buffalo Hunting

Three legged dog Wyatt Ray flies to Quartzsite Arizona with the snowbird RVers.

I’m not trying to make you jealous or anything. But since this blog is all about my adventures, I am obliged to report that this month I am sitting in the Arizona sun, lounging and stalking anything that  moves.

Lizards, birds, even these things called “javalenas” which are supposed to be even meaner than me!

One day, I was walking around this thing called a flea market…can somepawdy please tell me how fleas get to have their own store?

So like the fleas had this one store, and look at what was there!

He was a silent type. Didn’t say much, and didn’t even care when I came around to sniff him.

(Buffalo stink like Monkeybutts, by the way!).

Wyatt Houdini Ray Strikes Again

Three legged German Shepherd magic dog Wyatt shows how to make crate covers disappear.

The life of a magician is never an easy one. You’re always lookin’ for a way to top the last magic trick, keep that audience impressed, you know?

Well, I think I gave my pawrents the surprise of their life the other night!

They locked me up in my crate because they went to hang out with friends who had some dogs that were talkin’ trash about me (Ok, maybe I started it, but still….).

So there they go, thinking that the crate locks and four zip ties could keep me from my magic trick show. HA! I fooled them.

The Great Crate Escape

Behold!

On top of my crate, you will see a cover.

Mom sewed it herself.  It’s supposed to make me feel safe and calm. That’s what those dumb humans think anyways. She puts the front of the cover down whenever they leave me all alone.

Now, look carefully at the next picture.

 WAH! LAH!

Wyatt Houdini Ray has made the crate cover disappear!

And everything that was sitting on top of my crate too!

(Ok, I”ll let you in on a little secret. The cover, and the shopping bags, are inside my crate.)

Silly humans, they still have no clue as to how I managed to pull all of this inside, without opening the crate or bending the bars (of which I am totally capable of doing but was just too lazy to try that night).

Sheesh, when will they learn that I, Wyatt Houdini Ray Dawg, am smarter than they are? And I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself while they are away.

Do I entertain you?

Bad Boy Bernie Meets the Wild One

Three legged German Shepherd Tripawd Spokesdog Wyatt goes sailing in Newport Harbor Califronia.

Bernie, I think you’re hella cool. I don’t care what they say about you eating cameras and car parts.

 Terrorist or not, you know how to show a dawg a good time. 

When I first met you, I wondered if you had what it takes to keep up with an Oaktown boy like me, you being from the OC and all.

But I gotta say, you’ve got da fight in ya, and you know how to throw down some dang good moves!

After we wrassled around, I didn’t know where we were going, Mom and Dad wouldn’t tell me. All I knew is it had something do with water, since they put that stoopid life vest on me.

I hate water. But I wasn’t gonna tell you that. Or your sister. No way.

So I get in this little tin can thing in the water, and I goes for it. The can starts to move. Dude, it moved! I’m like “Huh?”

Who wouldda thought that riding in a boat, in water, could be alright. I used to think sailing and water was for sissies, but when I saw you get in there, I knew there had to be somethin to it.

Ah, the salty air. The big birds flying over my head. The dogs who passed by us that we got to yell at.

Man, I ‘m tellin’ ya, that was RAD!

Thanks for taking me around the OC, Bernie. Oh hey, you too Linda, you’re pretty cool for an old girl.

Now Bernie, tell me the truth…what did that camera taste like? You know, my Mom has one exactly like it……

Two’s the Magic Number

Three legged Shepherd Wyatt celebrates his two year old birthday.

Well, at least it is when you’re two years old, like I am today.

Uh huh, who’s got a birfday today? I do, that’s who.

Sherriff Wyatt is officially a two year old. My Mom says I definitely act like a two year old. That must mean she’s real proud of me.

Hoppy Burfday to me! Hoppy Burfday to me! Hoppy Burfday Mister Cool Dawg. Hoppy Birfday to meeeeeee!

Now, where did the Birfday Bunny put my present?