Thank you so much HauntedMyst, I know He will, I'm just a worrier lol. I will worry till He does.
God does have a sense of humor
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Okay, looking for more funny stories, they don't even have to be about animals, I just love a really great funny story.
Okay I will start again:
I'm going to make this one as non gross as possible but you would have to know my brother.
My brother is an avid hunter, he loves to hunt deer, sorry for all you peta folks, believe me, what he hunts never goes to waste, he doesn't do it just for the sport but also to eat.
Well, here he was out in the woods since about 3am and hadn't seen the first deer. Well, a major pain hit him in the stomach, no detail needed I'm sure. Being the avid hunter he is he of course came prepared with everything he would need, including a roll of toilet paper.
He wanders around and finds a good bush to 'get rid of that pain.' He's sitting there for a while but having a bit of a 'hard' time of it because he's a bit stopped up. His plumbing isn't flowing like it should. He get's to where he finally feels it coming and wouldn't you know it, an 8 point buck walks out in the opening and starts grazing. My brother, in all his wisdom, sucks it up and jumps up, grabs his gun and shoots. This is now known in my family as 'turtle heading' when the turtles head starts coming out and then it get's scared and goes back in...well, there you have it. That is my brother and believe me, that wasn't his last turtle head moment, there were more to come and I am sure many more to follow and he's gonna tell us about each and every one. When my family all gets together there is one subject that is always certain to come up. "Poop" Heaven help us lmao.
Okay I will start again:
I'm going to make this one as non gross as possible but you would have to know my brother.
My brother is an avid hunter, he loves to hunt deer, sorry for all you peta folks, believe me, what he hunts never goes to waste, he doesn't do it just for the sport but also to eat.
Well, here he was out in the woods since about 3am and hadn't seen the first deer. Well, a major pain hit him in the stomach, no detail needed I'm sure. Being the avid hunter he is he of course came prepared with everything he would need, including a roll of toilet paper.
He wanders around and finds a good bush to 'get rid of that pain.' He's sitting there for a while but having a bit of a 'hard' time of it because he's a bit stopped up. His plumbing isn't flowing like it should. He get's to where he finally feels it coming and wouldn't you know it, an 8 point buck walks out in the opening and starts grazing. My brother, in all his wisdom, sucks it up and jumps up, grabs his gun and shoots. This is now known in my family as 'turtle heading' when the turtles head starts coming out and then it get's scared and goes back in...well, there you have it. That is my brother and believe me, that wasn't his last turtle head moment, there were more to come and I am sure many more to follow and he's gonna tell us about each and every one. When my family all gets together there is one subject that is always certain to come up. "Poop" Heaven help us lmao.
It's good that no one was filming a documentary about deer hunting that morning.
Some people put up bird feeders and then complain when squirrels eat all the seed.
I avoided that issue by putting up a squirrel feeder.
http://www.user29344qw.jymes.com/images/Squir003.jpg
One day, a squirrel was peacefully eating when another came along and chased it away. But it didn't go far -- as soon as the new one was half-in, half-out of the feeder (to reach the seed at the bottom), the first one came back and sat on the lid! I don't speak squirrel, but the trapped one was definitely saying rude things!
I avoided that issue by putting up a squirrel feeder.
http://www.user29344qw.jymes.com/images/Squir003.jpg
One day, a squirrel was peacefully eating when another came along and chased it away. But it didn't go far -- as soon as the new one was half-in, half-out of the feeder (to reach the seed at the bottom), the first one came back and sat on the lid! I don't speak squirrel, but the trapped one was definitely saying rude things!
FantWriter mentioned snakes; I had a friend that was very, very, VERY scared of even the sight of a snake. When enlisting in the Air Force practically everyone does at least a little time training in Texas, which of course has a healthy population of snakes. While on her way to mess one morning she noticed a snake slithering across the commons toward her. This girl hightailed it to a nearby restroom building, slammed into the womens' and promptly locked the door. Why she thought she was safer from a snake by locking the door, she's still trying to figure out. 
FantWriter mentioned snakes; I had a friend that was very, very, VERY scared of even the sight of a snake. When enlisting in the Air Force practically everyone does at least a little time training in Texas, which of course has a healthy population of snakes. While on her way to mess one morning she noticed a snake slithering across the commons toward her. This girl hightailed it to a nearby restroom building, slammed into the womens' and promptly locked the door. Why she thought she was safer from a snake by locking the door, she's still trying to figure out.
LOL! Both of those are good ones
As I have mentioned I can't tell a story for love or money but I want to try & share this one with you guys while we are on the subject of "poop"
Back when I worked at the slaughter house we had this young man working for us, sorry to say - he was dumber than grass. The boss (Tim) let him live on the premises in a little travel trailer the boy had, so small it didn't have a bathroom. Tim told him he could use the one in the shop but he declined & perferred the woods (we are talkin about a real hillbilly boy here). So I go to work one morning & Tim all grinnin' & red faced, he's gotta story to tell & is embarrassed because I'm a woman but he tells it anyway
Seems that BJ was "moved" to go out to the woods with his roll of toliet paper; Tim had a new Lab puppy & I guess he went along to see what was up. So there's BJ just doing his business when the pup discovers his toliet paper... well you can probably guess the rest of the story. That Lab snatched the roll & took off with it with BJ crab walkin after him "here boy! here puppy! come back here with that!"
I laughed till I cried, & laughed for days everytime I saw BJ (he was sooo confused!)
Back when I worked at the slaughter house we had this young man working for us, sorry to say - he was dumber than grass. The boss (Tim) let him live on the premises in a little travel trailer the boy had, so small it didn't have a bathroom. Tim told him he could use the one in the shop but he declined & perferred the woods (we are talkin about a real hillbilly boy here). So I go to work one morning & Tim all grinnin' & red faced, he's gotta story to tell & is embarrassed because I'm a woman but he tells it anyway
Seems that BJ was "moved" to go out to the woods with his roll of toliet paper; Tim had a new Lab puppy & I guess he went along to see what was up. So there's BJ just doing his business when the pup discovers his toliet paper... well you can probably guess the rest of the story. That Lab snatched the roll & took off with it with BJ crab walkin after him "here boy! here puppy! come back here with that!"
I laughed till I cried, & laughed for days everytime I saw BJ (he was sooo confused!)
hahahahahahahahahaha I would have died laughing and still, it still has to do with animals lmao. It's funny but every story in here has to do with animals, even when you combine it with "poop" lmao.
As I have mentioned I can't tell a story for love or money but I want to try & share this one with you guys while we are on the subject of "poop"
BWAHAHAHAHAA!
And you said you couldn't tell a story.
Thank god we didn't have puppies out in the field when I was in the Corps. Because, out there, all we had was some rocks and scraggly bushes. (29 Palms). I won't tell you what 2 weeks of MRE (Meals (HAH) Ready to Eat) do to you.
I want to tell you guys about my Uncle Ivy. He was the reason why I picked the Marines when I started looking at the services. He died from cancer almost a year ago now, but instead of dwelling on that, let me tell you one of my favorite, short, stories about him.
It was shortly after I had signed up, but I hadn't left yet. My family was visiting Arizona for vacation and I was with them. One of our stops was Flagstaff. Uncle Ivy lived there.
Ivy was a bit of a pact rat too. and he had a toilet paper square from an old kit (why I have no idea, but those things hadn't changed much). So he decided to show me the proper way to use it.
"You start out by unfolding it all the way until you have it flat." he said. "Then you fold it over, and over and over until you have a square about 2x2 inches. " I'm watching intently. "Then you do this!" and he jams his middle finger through the middle of the square "and then you get to cleaning" he says with a big -ummm poop- eating grin on his face.
Needless to say I didn't follow his advice on that. I didn't have to, it turns out it happens that way by it self (eeeuuuu!).
My Uncle could always get me. It's probably where I picked up my devious streak.
It was shortly after I had signed up, but I hadn't left yet. My family was visiting Arizona for vacation and I was with them. One of our stops was Flagstaff. Uncle Ivy lived there.
Ivy was a bit of a pact rat too.
and he had a toilet paper square from an old kit (why I have no idea, but those things hadn't changed much). So he decided to show me the proper way to use it."You start out by unfolding it all the way until you have it flat." he said. "Then you fold it over, and over and over until you have a square about 2x2 inches. " I'm watching intently. "Then you do this!" and he jams his middle finger through the middle of the square "and then you get to cleaning" he says with a big -ummm poop- eating grin on his face.
Needless to say I didn't follow his advice on that. I didn't have to, it turns out it happens that way by it self (eeeuuuu!).
My Uncle could always get me. It's probably where I picked up my devious streak.
Ivy was a bit of a pact rat too.
"You start out by unfolding it all the way until you have it flat." he said. "Then you fold it over, and over and over until you have a square about 2x2 inches. " I'm watching intently. "Then you do this!" and he jams his middle finger through the middle of the square "and then you get to cleaning" he says with a big -ummm poop- eating grin on his face.
Hahaha! ROFL! Shhhhh, gotta be quiet, hubby's in bed, hahahaha!
The military has some mighty odd ideas of what makes "good training". 
I was in the Air Force ( in retrospect I probably should have joined the Marines considering my temperament ),
and was definitely what you would call a desk commando ( mainframe computer operator ).
Even though I would never be in the field, my operations were considered "mission critical", so someone
figured we needed minimum "combat readiness" training.
I never understood the logic in this, since my "office" would always be in a "hardened" facility on a permanent
base. But, I was marksman certified with an M16 and received minimum training in hand to hand combat.
As I mentioned, I was a BIG boy, and at 18 I was the youngest person in my flight by several years, but
I was still the biggest guy there. So, of course, the marine instructor for hand to hand zeroed in on me in the
first 10 minutes. The scene was almost cliche: The instructor is walking back and forth in front of the formation,
telling us what he is going "to attempt" to teach us ( at full volume, of course ), how he was going to teach us
to "really" fight and this was no school yard fighting or "karate dojo" ( said with a sneer of course ), and that is
when he stopped in front of me. After looking me up and down for a moment ( he had to look up, he was all of 5'8" ),
he asked if I knew how to fight. Of course, like an idiot, I bellowed out "yes sergeant", and you could almost see the
gleam in his eye as he ordered me to fall out for a "demonstration".
Now, I grew up on a farm and could throw a full bail of hay up into a loft by the time I was 13, and nothing teaches you
balance better than working on a boat. And of course, I had plenty of experience defending myself against older kids
who thought they needed to prove something by pounding on the "big dumb" freshman.
He explains to the rest of the formation that the goal in combat is not to fight with the enemy but to take them down
and incapacitate them as quickly as possible, he then instructs me to come at him and put him on the ground.
As he stands there with a kind of loose, hands up, stance, I am not sure what I expected, but I knew I would be
sore afterwards. I stepped in and reached for him ( a little quicker than I think he expected ), and actually managed
to get a grip on him with one hand. He grabbed me by the wrist and shoulder and tried to pull backwards but I
had kept my weight mostly on my back foot and he just kind of hung there for a second with a surprised look on
his face. Without really thinking what I was about to do, I grabbed him under the arm with my other hand, swung
my weight around to the side, and threw him up and over one hip, and slammed him to the ground flat on his back.
As he lay there gawping like a fish out of water, I blurted out "I'm sorry", and the two other instructors were doing their
best not to laugh out loud. ( they didn't do a very good job ) I didn't know a human could turn that dark a red.
Needless to say, I became the official demonstration dummy ( read punching bag ) for the rest of that course.
Them marines fight dirty and by the end of the week, I had the bruises and strained joints to prove it.
I was in the Air Force ( in retrospect I probably should have joined the Marines considering my temperament ),
and was definitely what you would call a desk commando ( mainframe computer operator ).
Even though I would never be in the field, my operations were considered "mission critical", so someone
figured we needed minimum "combat readiness" training.
I never understood the logic in this, since my "office" would always be in a "hardened" facility on a permanent
base. But, I was marksman certified with an M16 and received minimum training in hand to hand combat.
As I mentioned, I was a BIG boy, and at 18 I was the youngest person in my flight by several years, but
I was still the biggest guy there. So, of course, the marine instructor for hand to hand zeroed in on me in the
first 10 minutes. The scene was almost cliche: The instructor is walking back and forth in front of the formation,
telling us what he is going "to attempt" to teach us ( at full volume, of course ), how he was going to teach us
to "really" fight and this was no school yard fighting or "karate dojo" ( said with a sneer of course ), and that is
when he stopped in front of me. After looking me up and down for a moment ( he had to look up, he was all of 5'8" ),
he asked if I knew how to fight. Of course, like an idiot, I bellowed out "yes sergeant", and you could almost see the
gleam in his eye as he ordered me to fall out for a "demonstration".
Now, I grew up on a farm and could throw a full bail of hay up into a loft by the time I was 13, and nothing teaches you
balance better than working on a boat. And of course, I had plenty of experience defending myself against older kids
who thought they needed to prove something by pounding on the "big dumb" freshman.
He explains to the rest of the formation that the goal in combat is not to fight with the enemy but to take them down
and incapacitate them as quickly as possible, he then instructs me to come at him and put him on the ground.
As he stands there with a kind of loose, hands up, stance, I am not sure what I expected, but I knew I would be
sore afterwards. I stepped in and reached for him ( a little quicker than I think he expected ), and actually managed
to get a grip on him with one hand. He grabbed me by the wrist and shoulder and tried to pull backwards but I
had kept my weight mostly on my back foot and he just kind of hung there for a second with a surprised look on
his face. Without really thinking what I was about to do, I grabbed him under the arm with my other hand, swung
my weight around to the side, and threw him up and over one hip, and slammed him to the ground flat on his back.
As he lay there gawping like a fish out of water, I blurted out "I'm sorry", and the two other instructors were doing their
best not to laugh out loud. ( they didn't do a very good job ) I didn't know a human could turn that dark a red.
Needless to say, I became the official demonstration dummy ( read punching bag ) for the rest of that course.
Them marines fight dirty and by the end of the week, I had the bruises and strained joints to prove it.
I'm sure you spent the rest of your training in "interesting times"! My nephew went through Parris Island basic a decade ago. His antics resulted in his being jerked outside the barracks by his drill sergeant for a punitive pushup session. The DS was down on his knees screaming at him the whole time he was doing pushups. My nephew reached out and popped the DS on the chin once on the upstroke of a pushup. The DS turned bright red, went back into the hut, and returned with two more drill instructors who proceeded to as he put it, "Beat my ... royally!"
They can't and don't take any backtalk or resistance.
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hahahahahahahahaha, those are great stories, LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks y'all!
Ok, time for an animal story.
Tobie and the Red Towel.
Many years ago, my wife and I had been in our home for a few months and along the way we acquired two dogs.
Our first dog was Sandy and the second dog was a gift to my wife from her friend who lived in town. Well the amount to get the dog was the gift. This was Tera. I'll tell their story one day. Any way, way too soon, Tara left us. And, as a way to help my wife, I agreed to foster some animals (several stories there).
One of the dogs we were fostering had no name as he was recused during a storm around Casa Grande. So, in my infinite wisdom, decided that he needed a name. I called him Maxwell. Well once you give the name it's tough to let them go, so I adopted him. Max has a story too but that is for another day.
So we had to go pay his adoption fee at Pet's Mart where the Dog Rescue, Halo, setup their adoptions. So we are there and it isn't 5 minutes before my wife has a Terrier mix in her arms. He is slowly licking her hand and arm and looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes. Then my wife gives me those same eyes. I knew when I was beat so I just nodded and he came home with us. I'm such a sucker.
This is Tobie. Next to Riley, he has the loudest bark that lets anyone in hearing know that he has seen you and you are in his area that he considers his. He was and still is very protective of Margaret. A lesson I learned quickly.
Sunday morning, a couple of weeks after he came home with us, he is sitting on the couch in the living room with Margaret. I'm in the shower just getting squeaky clean. After I hop out of the shower and starting to dry off with my big Red towel, Margaret starts talking to me from the living room. As I was drying my hair at the time (I had some back then) I stepped into the hall way, buck naked, witht the towel over my head and asked what she said. I noticed that Tobie perked up a bit (that, BTW, is a warning sign. LOL) so decided to mess with him at bit. So I wrapped my red towel tighter around my head so my face was just showing and went "Booga, Bogga!".
growl Hehe. Booga, booga! growl Oh! Booga, booga! GROWL And Tobie LAUNCHES himself from the couch and starts speeding his way to me. "Groooooooowwwwllll!" Oh CRAP!
Tobie, back then, was just the right height when he would hop on me, when I standing up, and hit my man parts. I'm naked, and he is charging me and doesn't seem to know who I am.
I let out a very manly EEKK! and whipped the towel from my head and held it in front of my vulnerable man parts. Margaret, who had figured out what is about to happen, is trying to get Tobie's attention and trying not to laugh.
Meanwhile I'm screaming "Tobie! It's me! It's meeee!"8-o Just as he is about to launch and attack (my man parts) he stops. He recognized me. He gives me a look as if to say "Idiot!" and turns and trots back to my wife who is laughing so hard she is having trouble breathing.
Since that time I've learned a lot about Terriers. Ya don't mess with them.
And over the years Tobie and I have had our differences. Margaret likes to tell the story where Tobie and I are arguing in the living room. I'm wanting him to go outside and he does not. So I'm saying "Outside!" and he gives a little growl/bark. This goes on for a few minutes before my wife says "Tobie, go outside" and the 'little darling' turns and trots outside like it was his own idea.
This leads us to the present. Tobie is still with us. We've long come to understand each other. And he even listens to me from time to time. But he is getting very old and has slowed down. I'm not sure how much longer he has with us, but, by golly, the rest of his time will be very well taken care of.
Oh, I've retired that darn towel. Better safe than no man parts ya know.
Tobie and the Red Towel.
Many years ago, my wife and I had been in our home for a few months and along the way we acquired two dogs.
Our first dog was Sandy and the second dog was a gift to my wife from her friend who lived in town. Well the amount to get the dog was the gift. This was Tera. I'll tell their story one day. Any way, way too soon, Tara left us. And, as a way to help my wife, I agreed to foster some animals (several stories there).
One of the dogs we were fostering had no name as he was recused during a storm around Casa Grande. So, in my infinite wisdom, decided that he needed a name. I called him Maxwell. Well once you give the name it's tough to let them go, so I adopted him. Max has a story too but that is for another day.
So we had to go pay his adoption fee at Pet's Mart where the Dog Rescue, Halo, setup their adoptions. So we are there and it isn't 5 minutes before my wife has a Terrier mix in her arms. He is slowly licking her hand and arm and looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes. Then my wife gives me those same eyes. I knew when I was beat so I just nodded and he came home with us. I'm such a sucker.
This is Tobie. Next to Riley, he has the loudest bark that lets anyone in hearing know that he has seen you and you are in his area that he considers his. He was and still is very protective of Margaret. A lesson I learned quickly.
Sunday morning, a couple of weeks after he came home with us, he is sitting on the couch in the living room with Margaret. I'm in the shower just getting squeaky clean. After I hop out of the shower and starting to dry off with my big Red towel, Margaret starts talking to me from the living room. As I was drying my hair at the time (I had some back then) I stepped into the hall way, buck naked, witht the towel over my head and asked what she said. I noticed that Tobie perked up a bit (that, BTW, is a warning sign. LOL) so decided to mess with him at bit. So I wrapped my red towel tighter around my head so my face was just showing and went "Booga, Bogga!".
growl Hehe. Booga, booga! growl Oh!
Booga, booga! GROWL And Tobie LAUNCHES himself from the couch and starts speeding his way to me. "Groooooooowwwwllll!" Oh CRAP!Tobie, back then, was just the right height when he would hop on me, when I standing up, and hit my man parts. I'm naked, and he is charging me and doesn't seem to know who I am.
I let out a very manly EEKK! and whipped the towel from my head and held it in front of my vulnerable man parts. Margaret, who had figured out what is about to happen, is trying to get Tobie's attention and trying not to laugh.
Meanwhile I'm screaming "Tobie! It's me! It's meeee!"8-o Just as he is about to launch and attack (my man parts) he stops. He recognized me. He gives me a look as if to say "Idiot!" and turns and trots back to my wife who is laughing so hard she is having trouble breathing.
Since that time I've learned a lot about Terriers. Ya don't mess with them.
And over the years Tobie and I have had our differences. Margaret likes to tell the story where Tobie and I are arguing in the living room. I'm wanting him to go outside and he does not. So I'm saying "Outside!" and he gives a little growl/bark. This goes on for a few minutes before my wife says "Tobie, go outside" and the 'little darling' turns and trots outside like it was his own idea.This leads us to the present. Tobie is still with us. We've long come to understand each other. And he even listens to me from time to time. But he is getting very old and has slowed down. I'm not sure how much longer he has with us, but, by golly, the rest of his time will be very well taken care of.
Oh, I've retired that darn towel.
Better safe than no man parts ya know.
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