Film, Media & TV0 min ago
Following ttfn's lovely story, another long doggie story worth a read, honestly!
11 Answers
One of my fondest memories of my beautiful Irish Wolfhound, Finnegan, took place in a huge park in the city of Frankfurt in Germany. We lived close to the park, so every day we would wander up and take our Finnegan to the doggie area, which was about 4 acres of fenced in wild meadow with huge great big trees dotted around. Dogs were allowed to roam free throughout this park, but dog owners were expected to take their four legged companions to the doggie area first to “take care of business”.
This particular little adventure took place on a lovely hot summer day, the year before the city started allowing topless bathing in the parks. We had left the doggie area to wander down through the acres of lawns, beautiful flower beds and shrubs and the stunning huge trees, many of which had amazingly survived the 2nd world war and looked like very old and gnarly giants. It was one of our favourite places in Frankfurt.
The beautiful green lawns were full of young couples with children, stylish single girls and young men from the surrounding advertising agencies, elderly folk eating their cakes from the nearly café and many doggie lovers accompanied by their four-legged companions - all having a wonderfully relaxed summer day sunbathing, picnicking etc.
continued ...
This particular little adventure took place on a lovely hot summer day, the year before the city started allowing topless bathing in the parks. We had left the doggie area to wander down through the acres of lawns, beautiful flower beds and shrubs and the stunning huge trees, many of which had amazingly survived the 2nd world war and looked like very old and gnarly giants. It was one of our favourite places in Frankfurt.
The beautiful green lawns were full of young couples with children, stylish single girls and young men from the surrounding advertising agencies, elderly folk eating their cakes from the nearly café and many doggie lovers accompanied by their four-legged companions - all having a wonderfully relaxed summer day sunbathing, picnicking etc.
continued ...
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Several little dogs were running around the main field, slaloming through the numerous bikini clad girls and young men in their shorts, lying out on bathing towels asleep or reading. Little dogs can do this so well, gathering up great speed and still turning sharp corners, skilfully avoiding running into any of the people on the grass. Well, maybe at this point I should explain what Irish Wolfhounds are like, for those who have never had the pleasure of meeting one. This is arguably the tallest breed of dog and one of the oldest breeds as well, documented as far back as 3600bc. A fully grown Irish Wolfhound can stand 36-40 inches at the shoulder and weight around 10.5 stone. When standing on their hind legs, their front paws on your shoulders, their head can reach nearly 7 foot! So, they are rather large and as such are NOT able to take tight corners at great speed! They are the most gentle of giants, but can tend to forget to slow down when running towards you and may well bowl you over if you don’t get out of the way in time! Their profuse apologies, once they have managed to slow down, turn around and come back to you, can make you feel like you are the most loved person on the planet, but are about to drown in doggie kisses!
So, back to the little doggies slaloming at high speed through all the half-naked bodies on the green … My darling sweet, gentle giant Finnegan decides to join in the game of chase! He bounds off like a thundering horse, quickly gathering speed and … yes, you guessed it … tries catching up with all his little doggie friends. For a while this went really well! He managed to dodge around a fair few people. There was however one young lady who was lying on her front, reading a book and was oblivious too the goings on around her. She had taken off her bikini straps, to enhance her tan and was totally engrossed in her book. Unfortunately she was lying directly in the flight path of my 10.5 stone wolfhound, who was racing towards her at great speed! (I swear, at this point suddenly everything seemed to happen in slow motion!!!) I could see the little dogs skilfully dodging around this young lady and could see the look of excitement on my Finnegan’s face turn to “ooooooh nooooooooooooooo! Mum, I can’t take that corner, she’s in the way!!!!!!!” As much as he tried, he couldn’t slow down enough! So, out of the corner of her eye, the young girl caught sight of a huge light grey “thing” flying over her! Was it a plane? Was it an eagle or even a ghost on speed? No, it was a Finnegan, who had thankfully had the sense not to just run her over, but to jump as high as he possibly could to avoid her! It was like watching a horse taking a very high and wide jump at a tournament! He drew his legs up so high to get over her and sailed though the air. It was amazing to watch!
Screaming in sheer terror the girl jumped up, forgetting that she had opened up the back of her bikini and removed her straps, and ran as fast as she could towards the café which was about 100 yards away, her boobs bobbing up and down with every frantic step. Clearly audible gasps, clapping, whistles and laughter came from the well over 100 people on the green.
Now, in my mind I knew that Finnegan would do the gentlemanly / wolfhoundly thing and go and apologize to her. But no, he had to go that little step further. My Finnegan ran back to where she had lost her bikini top, picked it up and trotted off after her. He slowed down at the café, calmly walked in and offered her back what she had lost, obediently sitting in front of her like a true gentleman, having retrieved her pretty bikini top, which was now hanging out of his mouth like a wet rag! As I escorted my beautiful giant out of the park some time later, I could still hear people laughing and chatting about their first encounter with an Irish Wolfhound called Finnegan.
Now, in my mind I knew that Finnegan would do the gentlemanly / wolfhoundly thing and go and apologize to her. But no, he had to go that little step further. My Finnegan ran back to where she had lost her bikini top, picked it up and trotted off after her. He slowed down at the café, calmly walked in and offered her back what she had lost, obediently sitting in front of her like a true gentleman, having retrieved her pretty bikini top, which was now hanging out of his mouth like a wet rag! As I escorted my beautiful giant out of the park some time later, I could still hear people laughing and chatting about their first encounter with an Irish Wolfhound called Finnegan.
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