12 year old Nook enjoying a brush down. He sheds so much hair, when travelling in the car we suffer what is affectionately known as the Nooknado.

Look at that smile. So damn cute.



Cheers, SB

 

At the fear of alienating everyone, I much prefer animals to people, they never let you down, and its unconditional love, lovely dog matey

 

Pretty cute there Seb, the dog too.

 

Aye, Man's best friend. 10 years is good for a dog. Hope for many more.

Been a couple of years up in the woods. Monkeybutt, the cat, the most doglike of any feline I've ever known, lasted about 8 weeks. Methinks it was the resident owl that got him. I've seen it. Huge bird. At night we could hear its hooting inside the house.The bird has since migrated, but returns to roost every the winter in various trees nearby.

 

We could use some of those owls around here, ferrel cats are a real problem all over Australia.

 

This is the only time my 14 year old mutt is "Cute"

 

He's giving you the WTF look Jarvid.

 

SB, you seem to be confused about the term shedding. lol

Here is a few pictures of an Alaskan Malamute I had in my teens. They grow to about 70lbs (37.75kg) but his father was Canadian Timber Wolf that can grow to 180lbs (81.5kg). When I weighed him last he was 165lbs (75kg). I didn't like picking him up so I stopped weighing him. He did get bigger.

In the photo you can see 1/2 the fur I brushed out of him one spring. The next day I got the same or more amount out. You can see that he hasn't had his hind legs and part of his neck brushed yet when the photo was taken.

 

Wow TBT, that is phenomenal! I do have a photo of Nook's pile of fur, but it's nothing like your boys.

He was a good looking dog.

Cheers, SB

 

To all dog lovers, since other human beings couldn't/shouldn't/wouldn't understand.

An Epitaph to a Dog, by Lord Byron.

Near this Spot
are deposited the Remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.

This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just tribute to the Memory of
Boatswain, a Dog
who was born in Newfoundland May 1803
and died at Newstead Nov. 18th, 1808


When some proud Son of Man returns to Earth,
Unknown to Glory, but upheld by Birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below.
When all is done, upon the Tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his Master’s own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonoured falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the Soul he held on earth –
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.

Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power –
Who knows thee well, must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy tongue hypocrisy, thy heart deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye, who behold perchance this simple urn,
Pass on – it honours none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one -- and here he lies.

Here is my 70lbs. GSD, two years old, Miss Maya.