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best dog story ever

Discussion in 'Off Topic Threads' started by krony2, Jun 14, 2012.

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  1. krony2

    krony2 Member

    Joined:
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    A friend sent me this story. Had to share it. Jeff
    They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly.

    I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.


    But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.


    But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

    See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.


    I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."

    ____________ _________ _________ _________

    To Whomever Gets My Dog:

    Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.


    So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

    First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after them, so be careful. Don't do it by any roads.


    Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones ---"sit," "stay," "come," "heel."

    He knows hand signals, too: He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.


    Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.


    He's up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.


    Finally, give him some time. It's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.


    And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you...His name's not Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this ... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is "Tank." Because, that is what I drive.


    I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.


    Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.


    If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.


    All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.


    Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

    Thank you,

    Paul Mallory

    ____________ _________ _________ _______



    I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags have been at half-mast all summer.


    I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

    "Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

    The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

    "C'mere boy."


    He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.

    His tail swished.


    I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.


    "It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek.


    "So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again.


    "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"


    Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.


    If you can read this without getting a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye, you just ain't right.


    A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of 'up to
    and including their life.'

    That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.

    "The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."
    G. K. Chesterton
     
  2. bcnu

    bcnu Active Member

    Joined:
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    Messages:
    1,197
    Very good story, thanks for sharing. John
     
  3. EuroJoe

    EuroJoe TS Supporters TS Supporters

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    3,359
    Location:
    Rockford,IL
    why did the screen get blurry??
     
  4. senior smoke

    senior smoke Well-Known Member

    Joined:
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    Messages:
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    Location:
    Wauwatosa Wisconsin
    Great story, thank you for taking the time to post it.
    Steve Balistreri
     
  5. chuckie68

    chuckie68 Active Member

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    Location:
    Royal Oak, Michigan
    Geeze.....Made me get all choked up and teary eyed.

    But one hell of a happy ending.

    Chuck
     
  6. rooferbob

    rooferbob Active Member

    Joined:
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    Hamilton Ohio
    Nice!! Take care of Tank
     
  7. Tpeterson1

    Tpeterson1 Member

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    79
    I read this stoy before,its not real via snopes but should be,would make a good movie.
     
  8. Dr.Longshot

    Dr.Longshot Banned Banned

    Joined:
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    I also got teary eyed

    Gary Bryant
    Dr.longshot
     
  9. Jawhawker

    Jawhawker TS Member

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    Snopes or not Iam sure its happened and probably more than once.

    To all the " Tanks" in this country I would like to thank you for allowing your owners to defend our country.

    Darn humidity....
     
  10. fssberson

    fssberson Active Member

    Joined:
    Jan 29, 1998
    Messages:
    2,375
    Not a tearful story, but true. Three weeks ago, I took our boxer to a snake break... it worked. Next dog up was a German Shepherd. He didn't like the 'zapp' from the first snake and had to be dragged to snake #2. What to do? He turned around with his back to the snake and would not look at the snake! No eye contact = no snake. Nothing like a German Shepherp Dog to solve the problem. Fred
     
  11. Recoil Sissy

    Recoil Sissy Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Jan 29, 1998
    Messages:
    2,645
    Fred:

    What's a snake break?

    sissy
     
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