It all started with a lovely comment Ozark posted in a Balloon Juice thread on July 5, which prompted me to drop him a line.
Hey Ozark,
Beautiful post this morning!
It reminded me that I have been wanting to ask you if you’d be interested in putting something together about the Woofmeister for the Furry Friends feature.
I would love to know more about the Woofmeister!
Pictures and stories. :-)
WaterGirl
So of course Ozark wrote back with the loveliest of stories. Make yourself comfortable, and settle in for this treat from OzarkHillbilly.
*****
Tales of The Woofmeister, Miss Kitty, and Percy
by OzarkHillbilly
By the time we bought the Hillbilly Haven, my wife and I had been wanting a dog for quite some time.
While I worked on the place trying to make it habitable before the landlords kicked us out of our house in Bourbon, we talked about the various breeds. A fellow carpenter had some red heeler pups but one look at their traits on the internet and we decided they would not be a good fit for Baby Girl (our 2 y/o granddaughter). Some years before I had had a white Lab (Willie Maybe, the Say Hey Dog) who was one of the sweetest, gentlest, most patient dogs I’d ever known and had traveled all over the Ozarks with me and the boys. The wife had seen his pictures with the boys and heard the stories and the more we talked of him the more we were sure we wanted a Lab. We started looking to see what we could find. HALO is the local animal rescue group and their website had 2 possibles. One was a Lab mix that was being fostered and the other was a full Lab at the Sullivan pound that HALO had an arrangement with.
The following Monday morning I called the Sullivan cop shop and talked with the animal control officer. He said he could meet me at the pound at 10 o’clock. As was my want, I got there about 15 mins early. He showed up about 10 mins later and we went in. He went back to the cage to let the dog out so we could get acquainted, opened the gate and WHOOOOSH! 80 lbs of black fur and determined bone, sinew, and muscle flashed past and out the still open door at the speed of light. We thought he was making a dash for freedom but no, he had stopped behind a sign (where he could have a little privacy, doncha you know) and for at least the next 10 mins he peed and pooped like he’d been holding it all weekend, which wasn’t far off the truth. As we looked at the spotless cage, the ACO told me he had last been there to give the animals their weekend feed at noon on Saturday.
I thought, “I want this dog.”
So once he had finally finished his business, we were introduced. He leaned hard against me and was very amenable to the liberal pettins and scritchins I was giving so I said, “OK, we’ll take him.” and hoped I wouldn’t be sorry.
In the pickup on the drive home I began to have second thoughts. He was in my lap and refused to get out of it. Driving with an 80 lb lap dog on our narrow, crooked, and steep roads is not for the faint of heart. At that point I was thinking “Static” might be the perfect name for him. (the vet estimated he was 1-2 y/o so he had a little more growing to do)
When the wife got home we discussed names. As I recall it was a very short conversation. When our granddaughter was just starting to talk, she would point at a dog and in a voice so soft you could barely hear her say, “Woof.” And so it was Woofie. After a while I kind of felt he needed something a little more dignified for when mingling in polite society and appended the “meister” on.
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Woof was a snuggle bunny from the gitgo. He soon learned we were willing to share the couch and it didn’t take him long at all to become an inveterate lap Lab, knowing that every lap comes with generous belly scratchin’s and neck pettin’s. These days, if I want to sit on the couch I have to first pick up his head, hold it out of the way until I have sat, then when I let go I get 20#s of head flopping down on to my balls. One gets over the pain and besides, there is a belly in need of scratchin’s.
At first I tried to say “No dog on the bed!” (like any one was ever going to listen to me), but It wasn’t long before I was lucky to get a 6” strip of edge and maybe enough sheet to cover my feet. Maybe. If I was lucky.
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Like most Labs, he loves retrieving. We soon settled on frisbees and before long he was leaping and catching them in flight. Not a good idea for a dog as big as he and I had to be careful to keep the flight low enough that he wouldn’t need to jump or high enough that he wouldn’t even try. His favorite is a black rubber Kong, They are soft and floppy and he can pick it up and shake it as violently as he likes, just like he would a squirrel, if he ever caught one.
It’s flexibility however makes it difficult to throw. I picked up on the nuances pretty quickly and was soon throwing it down the utility easement from one pole to the next, a distance of about 60-70 yards. Others would have difficulty. It always came out of the hand wrong, wobbling thru the air like a wounded duck and unceremoniously flopping to the ground at the end of some pitiable flight. My wife’s throws are… Just sad. That is the best one can say. My sons would invariably try to muscle it thru the air and while it would go further it still flew with all the grace of a platypus. Poor Woof, he would walk the ten or 12 steps to the embarrassing end of some ignominious flight, pick up the frisbee, and ignoring whoever threw it, bring it back to me. He’d look up at me and say, “Please? S/He throws like a girl.”
These days, he’s grown old and arthritic and now has congestive heart disease. He still wants to chase it and gets very excited the first throw or 2 but then he has to catch his breath and it takes longer with each toss. These days I only throw it about 20 yards or so and never down or up a hill. I keep it on the level. Sometimes I’ll throw it and he will stop and look off in the direction of where it went and just stand there. One might think he has forgotten what he’s doing, but he hasn’t. I think he’s just trying to decide whether it’s worth the trouble of getting it or not. Once he’s had enough he’ll walk to a spot 20’ or so away from me and flop to the ground.
……………………………………………………………………..
I always wondered why such a sweet, loving, well behaved dog would be abandoned. Despite his clinginess and almost complete attachment to me, those seemed more like the insecurities of abandonment, as he showed no additional signs of abuse. Now he did get dumped at the height of the Great Recession but economic insecurities just didn’t feel right. I soon found the real issue, or at least this is the story I like to tell myself: He does not like water. At all. I mean if it is raining? Forget running around in it or splashing thru the puddles, he will go and hide behind the bed at the first hint of raindrops on the roof. He will hold a pee for hours if there is water falling from the sky. This is a fatal defect in a hunting Lab.
I think it was 4 years before I managed to coax him into a shallow creek and all he wanted was out.
Eventually he did get to the point where he would follow me into the water, but sadly it was only because he felt it his sacred duty to rescue me from the enveloping waters. I’d have claw marks for a week after his attempts to drive me back to shore.
Once while at a creek front property belonging to a buddy of mine, we decided to go check out a nearby cave. We had no lights or anything it was just… Cavers, we gotta smell the darkness. Knowing Woof would insist on rescuing me, I had my wife leash him up, telling her to wait about 15 mins before freeing him, and off K and I went. We crossed the creek, leaving a very unhappy lap Lab behind. After the creek we had to wade thru a long, wide, waist deep, leach filled oxbow and then scramble up a low tick infested bluff line to the entrance of the cave. We went in. It was walking for the first 100’ or so, then it was stoop walking with a scramble over a low ledge here and another there. It is surprisingly hard to avoid hitting one’s helmetless head on the ceiling when navigating the twilight zone but we more or less managed to keep our skulls unscarred until we could no longer see our hands in front of our faces and decided we had reached the end of this little 3 hour tour. We sat back and relaxed for a few minutes, just enjoying the darkness and the damp moldy smell of cave. All of a sudden I had 100# of wet fur, claws and happy tongue lapping at my face.
“Damn it dog!”
………………………………………………………………………
Anyone who has ever had a Labrador knows that their tails are forces of nature. They can take a coffee table from cluttered to clear in 1.2 seconds. Percy is just tall enough that if he is standing/sitting behind Woof the tail whacks him hard about the face. I half expect him to just slump to the floor unconscious one of these days. One time when she was 3 or so, Baby Girl got caught in that spot.
Wap whappity wapwap… “Stop it Woof!!” her arms up trying to protect her face. Wapwap whappitywhappity wapwapwap…
She marched around in front of him, grabbed his jaws in a two handed grip and got 2 inches nose to nose and said, “I said stop it Woof!” with a very stern air of command. He just looked at her. And wagged his tail.
My wife says his tail is a perfect Daddy meter. If I come into a room his tail will thump. Just once. The closer I get to him, the more it thumps. By the time I bend over to give him a rub it is going like Buddy Rich on the Tonight Show with Carson.
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Miss Kitty arrived a few months after Woof and he didn’t have any issues adjusting to her presence, beyond the usual teen aged “Oh boy, a friend to play with!!!” that she set him straight on right quick. After a week or so they pretty much just ignored each other. The only exception being, if Woof is getting a treat, by gawd she’d better get one too!
Percy’s arrival was a different story. There was no aggression, it was just that all of Woof’s insecurities came back to the fore and Percy’s insecurities just reinforced them. I can’t pet one without petting the other. If I go to the toilet and forget to latch the door, they both come in for butt scratchins (idle hands are the Devil’s playground). If I sit down on the couch there is an immediate competition for the “Daddy spot,” the spot next to me where they can have physical contact. One would think that a 100# Lab would beat the 50# mutt every time, but one would be wrong. It starts with Woof’s head in my lap. Percy jumps up behind him and lays down with his head on Woof’s butt and his eyes firmly fixed on the point of contact between Woof and I. He is waiting and time is on his side. But it’s not easy. Woofie has big feet and he sometimes uses them to push Percy off. But Percy is nothing if not persistent. He perseveres. And watches.
Eventually Woof rolls a little bit onto his back for the belly scritchens. As they proceed he stretches out and a curl will develop in his back and a 3 or 4 inch diameter hole will appear between us and…. Percy pounces. A third on Woof’s head, a third on my lap with the final third weaseling it’s way in between us. Woof will surrender at that point, get up and flop down onto the floor.
One night not too long ago, after one of these dramas had played itself out, Woof got up and went to the door. Turned his head and as per usual looked at me. “Yeah yeah, give me a minute.” I disentangled myself from Percy on the couch, got up and went to the door. Percy followed. I opened the door. Percy went out. Woof turned around, went over to the couch and jumped up on it.
Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
WaterGirl
I thought this might be a nice alternative to all the focus on the convention, but if it turns out that this lovely story from Ozark doesn’t get much action because people are mostly interested in the convention, I’ll repost this later in the week.
Jerzy Russian
What a nice story! Also too, “owwww my balls!”
Elizabelle
An excellent dog story.
Woof sounds just about perfect. He might not like the sound of gunfire either. Lucky for him.
Benw
This is an awesome story and those are some lucky, lovely puppers!
Elizabelle
@WaterGirl: Hey there. May we just have a non-respite open thread the evenings of the convention?
I am not watching it, and you guys will tell me the
highlowlights.Am full up with all the lying. Enough.
Mary G
What a personality. So happy you and the Woofmeister found each other.
Barbara
Love this story. Thanks so much. One of my dogs probably would find me in a cave, and the other would be happy to stay with whoever was around. We do have a doggie competition for the best dog bed, and darned if I know why, because they are identical. My older dog (the one who would find me wherever I went) will get tired of whatever bed she is in and go stand in front of the other — at which point, the other dog will start growling. but Alpha eventually just walks right in and Beta gives one last annoyed growl and walks into the OTHER bed. Which is identical to the first one. They are both cave style beds, for dogs that like to burrow. This can go on several times a night and it is loud enough to wake me up.
debbie
A friend had a lab who did this same thing, but the look she gave was clearly, “You go get it.” And so I did.
WaterGirl
@Elizabelle: Yeah, I saw your plea earlier. I figured I would throw up an Open Thread as a companion to whatever convention thread goes up.
Fine print in the rules for big footing: There’s no way to bigfoot a convention thread unless it’s with another convention thread. :-)
Jager
Great story Ozark!
Our German Shepherd is an excellent boy, but he does raise hell when the doorbell rings or someone knocks. The other day, my wife went to the store, we shop for our 88-year-old neighbor when we go. My wife takes Carole’s things across the street the dog goes with her. (Carole loves him) When they come home the front door was locked, so Jan rings the bell, the dog starts barking his ass off even though he’s standing right next to his mom. Most of the time he’s smart. BTW he hates water too. He’ll barely step on wet grass.
Jackmac
Wonderful story. Thanks for sharing!
Wapiti
Nice dog stories.
Kristine
Great story. Woof reminds me of two of my dogs, King, the black lab-GSD mix, and Mickey, the black lab-pretty sure it was pitbull mix. Both were couch pups.
Elizabelle
@WaterGirl: Thank you. There just did not seem to be any way to comment last night.
Shana
How wonderful, especially the bit at the end. Old dogs indeed.
Baud
I can’t remember the last time I was this absorbed in a story.
WereBear
Made me miss my Roscoe, the Malamute/Collie mix who might as well have had a sherrif’s badge as he rode herd on the cat rescue, the other dogs, the kids, and anyone in the territory.
Dan B
When I lived in Tacoma my boyfriend had a white lab named Honkey – it was the early 70’s. She was the best dog. We mated her with a Samoyed. They got stuck together in the tiny entry so we were stuck in the house for half an hour. The pups were spectacular and bright, remembered us years later.
skerry
Thanks for the story, Ozark.
PAM Dirac
Thanks for the lab stories. When we took our lab home, within 2 minutes she had staked out her spot on the couch. She is there about 90% of the time. She started out sleeping in a crate in the bedroom next to ours, then the crate moved next to the bed, then she was in the bed. She is such a love bug. We got her from an old friend of mine that breeds labs. Every year there is a big (> 1000 dogs) show in Frederick and she comes down with 3 or 4 dogs. I didn’t know what to expect the first time I went there, but I quickly found out that pure bred labs are, if anything, goofier than mixed. So sweet, but so goofy. She does bring lots of smiles to our life.
WaterGirl
@Dan B:
Seems like we are missing a big hunk of story there. Maybe you’d like to write something up for Furry Friends? That goes for everyone. :-)
LuciaMia
Oh Gosh, this made me cry.
Winston
Nice story. We bought 40 acres on the Ozark Plateau in 96. Golden Retriever Chow mix, Yellow Lab and Great Pyrenees. Dog Heaven. And two cats. The dogs slept on the left side, right side and foot of the bed. Haven’t thought of that time for awhile. Thanks for reminding me. :)
TaMara (HFG)
That was a lovely respite. Thank you.
zhena gogolia
Great animals, great stories.
featheredsprite
Beautiful post!
OldDave
Beautiful story. So happy you two found each other.
We’ve always had dogs around the house, and usually in somewhat insane numbers – but for the most part they have been on the small side – a poodle, a Yorkie, and then a long succession of dachshunds. One ‘dachshund’ was probably half basset, which is why I said “for the most part”. Some of them have graced a Balloon-Juice calendar or two.
J R in WV
Great story of a very, really good dog. Thanks for sharing Woofmeister with the world, Ozark Hillbilly.
Seriously, you seem like an amalgamation of several of my friends and neighbors, some of whom are cave mappers and explorers, others of which worked construction all their working lives. Some of those construction guys can’t lift their arms above their shoulders any more, also too. I was in that group til I had my joint replacement operations.
Take care of the dogs and your kitty. They don’t last as long as we wish they could, but we treasure every day.
MineOurs is white, not black, but otherwise looks a whole lot like The Woofer.mrmoshpotato
???
ryk
Good story. We also have a black Lab that doesn’t like water. He fell into the neighbors pool as a pup and almost drowned. He’s 12 now and having trouble getting around. The wife and I are dreading what is coming. He’s been such a wonderful, gentle, loving dog…
CaseyL
Terrific story, and I particularly like the photo of Da Woof snuggled into your belly, with one eye showing.
Jay
Lovely dogs, lovely stories.
thank you Ozark Hillbilly for sharing them with us.
geg6
Woof sounds so much like my Koda, personality-wise, that it brings a tear to my eyes. Even the fear/disinterest in water and the dealings with a younger, smaller sibling. Labs really are the best dogs. I know I’ll get shit for saying that, but it’s true. Goldens are pretty great, too. But not quite as smart as Labs.
Ruckus
@Elizabelle
You might have a higher capacity than me. I have been full up for a rather long time.
I know no good is going to come from any republican, especially one who still publicly claims themselves as party faithful.
Tata
Lovely story of good doggos. Thank you!
Ruckus
Great dog story, as it should be with any dog named Woofmeister.
We had a dog that came with dad’s shop when he brought the property. A huge German Shepard named Poison. He was named that with good reason. Dad was about 5’9″, Poison would put his paws on dad’s shoulders and would be a full head taller than dad. Poison was also the only absolutely racist dog I’ve ever seen. Dog sleeping outside, man walks by, dog raises one ear till man walks puts one leg visibly past the edge of the building. White man, he goes back to sleep. Black man, he’s on all fours barking, charging till the chain stops him. The chain, which has been broken a few times, is strong enough to tow a car with. Only 3 people could feed or get near this dog. 12 yr old me, dad and one employee from Estonia. The dog weighed more than I did.
Elizabelle
@Ruckus: Did Poison live a long life? Did he retire?
I believe you about the racist dogs. I think they take their cues from their (original) owners. They pick up on the apprehension.
mrmoshpotato
@WaterGirl: Hehe, I have a couple tweets ready to post. ?
satby
Beautiful story and beautifully written Ozark! Labs really are special dogs, though most of mine didn’t like water either, which I thought was weird too. My friend and I would bring her lab Sally and my Biggie to the beach at the Indiana dunes, and Sally would bound into the lake to retrieve the tennis balls while Biggie would pace back and forth at the water’s edge. I tried to convince him it was fun, but he never believed me.
WaterGirl
@mrmoshpotato: Tweets for the open thread, or for the convention thread?
mrmoshpotato
@WaterGirl:
ConventionShitshow, though they could be both possibly. I’ll read the room while watching the baseball.ETA – fixed my error
Beatrice
@geg6: My family had a black Lab named Jim and you don’t even want to get us started on the stories because we will talk about him as long as you can stand it. He was the smartest dog I have ever known. He was scared of water at first but when he was about two years old or so, we were all swimming in a lake and he was so worried about us he just had to come in and make sure we weren’t drowning. After that he came to love swimming and would retrieve sticks until he was panting with exhaustion. To this day the sight of a Lab walking down the street makes my heart melt.
SiubhanDuinne
What a good storyteller you are, Ozark! Of course you have good subject matter :-)
Is Woof around 11-12 near as you can reckon?
Ruckus
@Elizabelle:
I have no idea how old he was but he lived about 4 more years.
And yes the previous property/dog owner was a racist ass. Had built the building as a machine shop in 1930, dad did his apprenticeship there, when he brought the building he got everything, building/tools/machinery/ongoing jobs, and the previous owner retired. John was not exactly a great role model, other than how not to be a human. There were stories. None all that amusing. But believable.
WaterGirl
@Beatrice: Sounds like you have enough stories for, you know, a pet post somewhere, maybe a blog, I don’t know…
Aleta
entertainment: comic bit about Samoyeds: https://twitter.com/chrisfluming/status/1298048344363655169
Beatrice
@WaterGirl: It’s a tale best told by me and my four siblings sitting around the table and feeding off of each other’s memories.
Ruckus
@satby:
@Beatrice:
Dogs and water. My ex fiancee had a female German Shepard who not only was one of the smartest dogs I’ve met but who also loved water. Fiancee bred her and sold the liter with one exception. He turned out to be the dumbest dog I’ve ever known, by a long ways. Once we went to the reservoir, mom tried to get him to go swimming and he would run out till the water hit his chest. Not an inch farther. Mom did everything to teach him, he was having none of it. She finally gave up and as she walked out of the water she looked at me an shook her head, just like every other mother I’ve seen do when her kid just can’t/won’t. I almost fell down laughing. Pup was taken to obedience training. Several weeks. Each week was supposed to build upon the previous week. That never worked with this dog. All that time he learned nothing.
WaterGirl
@Beatrice: You know best.
Ceci n est pas mon nym
Making me nostalgic for our beloved Lab, a chocolate / black mix we called Cinnamon. The one time I tried to introduce her to the water was the week we took her to the beach. I’d seen other dogs romping in the surf and figured a Lab would be a natural.
I figured wrong. As we approached the sand dunes, before even seeing the water, the sound of the surf had her absolutely hysterical with fear. I could not coax her over those last dunes.
She spent the week hanging out in the beach house.
Somehow in the course of our playing, we developed a whole hand signal language. I never consciously trained her in it. I could signal “come”, “sit” or “stay” from across a field, or direct her left or right to find a lost ball.
stinger
What a great montage of vignettes! I chuckled at many of them, but as the owner of three dogs I laughed out loud through a couple. I’m allowed a similar number of mattress inches by the 26-pounder and two 10-pounders — there’s most of a side that is untenanted! Thanks for this, Ozark, and for the responses you’ve elicited from commenters.
laura
So happy to know the Legend of Woofmeister.
I love my slightly used weinie dog Chet with all my heart. But labradogs are the best! My rescue lab Mr. Buzz had smooth floor aversion and so was anxious all the damn time. He’d never been in water until we’d had him a few months and spouse ran a race at Crissy Field. He caught a whiff of ocean just before he come up on the bridge. And then it happened – he saw the bay, was just bugging out with an internal struggle and then plunge and it happened – a Water Dog was born and I swear I could hear his heart grow. I could have thrown a ball into the bay until the end of time and he’d have swum accross the Pacific to get it. On his last day, l drove him to the City and he swam his last swim. He had an in and out burger in Davis and then we went to the Vet’s and I held him until he slipped away. Still brings the tears in the telling.
I hope to someday have another labby- possibly a retired or washed out guide dog who just needs to be an adored dog.
KrackenJack
@Barbara: What’s the point of being an alpha if you can’t exercise that prerogative at the most inconvenient time?
JPL
Thanks. I dedicate the story to all the dogs I’ve loved before. Darn, I miss them all.
Ruckus
@laura:
Only one word. In this case it’s a good word.
Damn.
seefleur
Delurking to say that this post is one of the best! As the servant/mom to a multitude of critters over the years (hamsters, ferrets, cats, dogs and the occasional pygmy hedgehog and other sundry critters), it’s lovely to read about others’ fuzzy family members. It’s especially nice to have these stories to combat all the shitscape that is currently in the news.
Thanks for a much needed respite – sharing fur-family stories is definitely aiding my mental health!
WaterGirl
@laura: And now I’m sobbing.
WaterGirl
@seefleur: Nice to hear that. If you have some stories of your own, please send them to me, with pics!