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  • File : 1303031044.jpg-(89 KB, 640x367, IMG_0595.jpg)
    89 KB Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:04 No.14620876  
    My dog just died /tg/

    She died taking down a red-bellied black snake two and a half times as long as her and was buried with her kill.

    Lets have a true-warrior thread to cheer me up.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:15 No.14620930
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    Ivan would be proud!
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:19 No.14620947
    Dying in battle earns a pet a place under Kromgol's table, feeding off the feast remains until the final battle. There's also wide meadows and large forests to hunt and play. It's not widely known, but Kromgol is the patron god of all loving pets, not just kittens.

    Damnit, now I'm thinking of my own dog again. Died in 2009. Rat poison.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:19 No.14620951
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    I am sorry I dont have an appropriately awesome pic.
    Sounds like an awesome dog though.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:25 No.14620995
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    Ah, we are all heroes. You and Boo and I: Hamsters and rangers everywhere, rejoice!

    *squeak squeak*
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:31 No.14621019
    Awwwww, your dog sounds boss OP. Died a heroes death.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:42 No.14621095
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    During the Croatian War of Independence, the Serbian army made a major push towards the capital city of Zadar. An armoured column of 16 tanks moved towards the objective - the fall of Zadar would be both a major morale hit to the remaining Croatian resistance, and give the Serbs a very strong foothold for the rest of the war. The only town on their warpath was the small village of Crno.
    Within Crno, there were three rebellion fighters, and a dozen-or-so civilians.

    They saw the armoured advance a long way away. Immediately, one began planning the retreat to Zadar, attempting to organise the civilians present. Another spoke up and asked - Where do we run to? This is our homeland. The end of the line - If Zadar is taken, it is all finished. I ask you, where do we run, from the Serbs?

    Between the three soldiers there was one anti-tank weapon with two rounds, a rifle, two pistols and a hunting shotgun. The civilians were moved to the homes on the opposite side of the city, and the three soldiers moved to the front into position.

    The leading Serb tank moving along the road fired on the church as it approached Crno. Always built on the highest point in the town, symbol of hope, the destruction of their holy relics typically brought the town to despair. The machinegunners on the turret chewed up the graves with bursts of fire. And that is when the Croatian militiamen fired.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:43 No.14621111
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    The first round hit with amazing luck, under the guard of the track, piercing through the hull and annihilating the inside of the tank, destroying it. The Serbian advanced paused. The orders were relayed up and down the tank line, and the conclusion was reached that a large Croatian force was stationed here, to intersect the advance before it reached Zadar’s walls. Unable to make the assumed sacrifice, the Serbian commander ordered a full retreat. Zadar stands to this day. Crno’s church is still in ruin.

    I’ve been to this town, and was told first hand this story. That tank still sits on the outskirts of Crno, the turret of the levered around and pointed off into the distance – towards Beograd, capital of Serbia.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:44 No.14621118

    She rests now in Valhalla with the gods. She hunts with Odin and dines with Thor, and laughs at Loki's jokes.

    She is a hero and will be remembered as such.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:49 No.14621157
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:50 No.14621175
    >That tank still sits on the outskirts of Crno, the turret of the levered around and pointed off into the distance – towards Beograd, capital of Serbia.
    I have newfound respect for the croats.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:51 No.14621190
    OP here, thanks guys.

    I should note she kill another one slightly smaller yesterday aswell and two others in the past.

    A true warrior.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:53 No.14621200
    Your animal companion did you proud, noble ranger.

    Fucking snake motherfuckers.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)05:53 No.14621203
    I know a couple Croatian cyclists who went so fast they got pulled over by a police helicopter.

    The best part? They're all over 60.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:01 No.14621255
    they have police helicopters in croatioa?

    Aussie police are lucky to have cars.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:04 No.14621274
    Croatia is approximately the size of a postage stamp, and its population density is much higher than ours down here on the bottom of the world.

    Also, their entire soccer team is Australian and using FIFA rules to play for them because they're of Croat descent.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:10 No.14621296
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:12 No.14621305
    Go read the wikipedia article on John Churchill
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:16 No.14621318
    i have a ball python and her previous owner was a piece of shit that i will kill if i ever find him

    shes only 3 feel long and was smaller when i got her but shes covered in scars from fighting with rats that he would try and feed her one day she escaped and my room mates cat found her and killed her but not without almost being strangled itself i ended up killing the cat in a mix of rage and pitty (the breathing was chocked and horrible sounding and my baby was still wrapped around her neck)

    i feel no remorse for the cat as it was a horrible pile of shit that on several occasions went out of its way to try and attack my baby and i feel no remorse for the snake as she was a beautiful creature that fought and killed things much stronger than her and fought to the end and showing remorse for her would be disrespectful to her life
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:19 No.14621327
    wow i feel like shit....that happened a couple weeks ago and i wrote it all in present tence...i miss Lilith
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:24 No.14621353
    I'm an Aussie, I was in Croatia during the last world cup. Serbia V Australia, and Australia knocked Serbia out of the cup. With our accents alone, we were like fucking -celebrities- after that.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:28 No.14621380
    Learn to do a passable Croatian-Aussie accent and you'd be god.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:34 No.14621418
    I've got a Serbian online friend. She's really hot. Should I tell her I hate Croats?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:47 No.14621489
    That'd be like telling a German you hate Jews. Either she subscribes to that hatred and will appreciate it, or is part of the group who resents that part of their history and will hate you for it.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)06:51 No.14621521

    Tell her you hate albanians though. All Serbs hate them.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)07:15 No.14621639

    This is now a PC-pet thread.

    Give your pet class levels

    OP's Dog. Ranger: favoured enemy snakes.

    That snake. Batllerager
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)07:22 No.14621680
    My cat: Ranger (favored enemy: Human)/Rogue, PrC to Assassin

    I have permanent scars from accidental run-ins with his claws. My brother won't go into the room if Tobias is there, because he attacks him on sight.

    He is a solid black half Siamese, half American shorthair with a scar running over his snout and the ability to say hello, open unlocked doors, and hunt you like the scared little mouse you are.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)07:39 No.14621782
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    OP: jack russels? mine are closely related rat terriers and have chased snakes in arizona off before though they havent killed them
    small breeds but not toys, definitely vermin hunters and working dogs, descended from pack hunting dogs from the old days
    should be proud of that kind of dog
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)07:48 No.14621828
    most terriers are boss tier
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)07:58 No.14621854

    Terrier is pretty nearly the definition of a ratcatcher's "small but vicious dog".
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:00 No.14621869
    OP here,

    Jack Russels are snakecatchers defined really

    Our old one saved my life at least twice from snakes by the pool.

    Smar too, they know to drop it and back off once you arrive with the shovel/shotgun
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:01 No.14621875
    My dog, Blaze, a German Shepard/Black Lab mix, would be a barbarian.
    Strong mother fucker: He made a 40 foot great oak tree lean after he wanted to get away from it and get to the people inside. He was attached to it with a chain choke collar and a steel chain attached to the collar and tree. The collar broke before the chain did.
    Dumb as a brick, though. Once when I came home, he was jumping up and down and being happy and what not. I had had a bad day, however, and went straight to me room and closed the door behind me. "Nope.bmp," he replied as he barreled through the closed door leaving a giant hole in it.
    He died when an armed guy tried to rob my house. He was shot, but still managed to tear out the guy's leg before he caved in. The guy died before the ambulance arrived from bleeding to death(I live in the boondocks at a farm). Loyal mutt to the end. Hope he's with OP's dog.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:06 No.14621900
    My grandparetns used to have a dachshund. While at home, he was gramma's little sweetheart cuddly doggy, being unreasonably adorable as only he could.
    Grampa on the other hand, he took him out hunting. And not just ducks or rabbits. They once went after a badger. And a goddamn boar.

    Little Grim was such a badass.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:11 No.14621934
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    hove you ever read whitefang?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:18 No.14621970
    I had a greater swiss mountain dog once, he died because his lung got bad, so no warrior's dearth

    However while he lived he took on two other dogs at once and won and chased a burglar out of the house, followed him through the window and out of the garden.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:21 No.14621984
    No, I have not. According to wikipedia it was made into a movie: Is the movie close enough to the book to make it worthwhile to wtach?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:24 No.14621998
    Wait, he was a berner sennen, my mistake.

    Awesome dog made for herding and guarding.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:35 No.14622043
    My cat Jagger would be a Fighter.

    He was a ginger tom and he had a lovely temperament, would be happy to snuggle up with you and any of your friends. He had a routine though. He would be going out at night, no matter the weather, and if he didn't, he would leave many a reminder as to why we should let him out.

    Our garden was a war zone, where anything that landed in it was seen as an enemy of the state and terminated as such. We regularly found bits of bird or mouse in the garden, and the bell on his collar didn't help lower the numbers one bit. Hell, we once had a pheasant in the garden and he had a go at that.

    The funniest thing that ever happened involving him was when our neighbour came round, holding an injured Jack Russell terrier (it's a complete fucking mutt, it barks like a lunatic at the slightest provocation) to tell us he'd been beaten up by our cat. We tried hard to keep a straight face during that.

    Even when he got older and slower, he insisted on going out and following his routine. The last time I saw him, he was lying in the garden, covered in horrible gashes and bite marks and there was a trail of blood leading up to the garden fence. It looked like he'd been in a fight with a fox and still managed to drag himself back home to his family.

    Rest in peace, Jagger.
    >> Axel the Possum 04/17/11(Sun)08:36 No.14622046

    ... That's a... That's a nice story...

    Is it raining in here? I think it's raining.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:44 No.14622076
    I had a dog, he died of lungcancer. He was no warrior, but he was a bard, always willing to raise our spirits.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:47 No.14622090
    Bards are still welcomed in any adventuring group.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:50 No.14622103
    check the anime silverfang
    (but not the sequel weed)
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:52 No.14622114
    Cleric of Kord. I have a mutt cat, not sure what all he is, but he's as long as my leg, and that's when he's barely stretching out. Heavy bastard, too. I adopted him from a shelter for abused animals, helped to clean him up, and took good care of him. The cat loves me, and only me.

    I say cleric because I'm a brittle diabetic, and consistently, over the years, my cat has awoken me from sleep when I had low blood sugars. I mean the 30-40 range. At that point, if my cat hadn't woken me up, I'd be dead, or comatose. He is a life saver.

    And I say Kord because he is an angry fucker, and absolutely loathes everybody and everything that isn't me. Strong, too. He once brought me an adult rabbit. Thing was almost as big as he was, and he dragged it along without any problems. He's also gotten into fights with dogs before, and he took down a robber once.

    Some asshole broke into our house while me and my family were out (was 15 at the time, this was about eight years ago). We must have come back around the time he had just entered, because the front door was open, and he was still in there. We heard my cat hissing and screaming bloody murder, didn't know what the hell to think.

    Come inside, their's this dude all in black, and my cat is wrapped around his head, slashing at his eyes. I screamed at my cat to stop, and he went away. Proceeded to restrain criminal and called 911.

    That thief's right eye was essentially useless after my cat got done with him. All sorts of fucked up. We decided not to press charges, because we figured the poor guy would have learned his lesson from the ordeal.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:56 No.14622125
    Gather round, friends, and let me tell you of Trøst. A huge dog he was, mix of labrador and all kinds of big bastards. Strong as a bear and with the kindest heart in all of Kraken bay. Whenever he came over to visit us neighbours after a shopping trip (nearest shop is 30 min with car) he would carry shopping bags in for us, and if we carried them all he would bite unto a bag and try to help.
    One day his owner was outside chopping wood, Trøst came out of the forest with a baby rabbit in his mouth, he was as gentle with it as he was with every living being, his owner told him to put it back where he found it. and so he did.
    aye, he was a big dog. strong as a bear... so once, when a german shepherd decided to trouble you could be sure blood would flow... but not with Trøst. He was too kind. He put his large paw on the dogs head, pushed him to the ground and sat down on it. keeping it in check until its owner came.
    Good dog he was... he collapsed when his owner was laking him once... the old man carried the gigantic dog on his back all the way back home.
    good dog...
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)08:58 No.14622129
    This thread:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epeQwq-aYV0
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:09 No.14622159
    Why would a black snake be able to kill--

    >> Australia

    Oh. Sorry to hear about your loss. At least she didn't die biting a cane toad.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:15 No.14622188
    Fun fact: With the bird fear going on in the crow thread, I feel it only right to disclose troubling information - magpies here in Australia have learned that eating a cane toad is bad for you, so now they flip them on their backs and stick their beak down their throats to get at dem delicious organs. They pluck the fucking livers out of the cane toads without getting poisoned.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:22 No.14622219
    They're getting to be too smart. They must be exterminated.

    >>Murdred end
    Yes, Captcha. They will be murdered.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:25 No.14622236
    One does not simply "exterminate" magpies. They are organized, and well motivated to steal all your shiny shit. How the fuck we going to defeat them if our car keys are in a nest somewhere?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:26 No.14622251
    Napalm. Lots and lots of napalm.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:29 No.14622268
    weird tg crossover here
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:33 No.14622294
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    people aint got nothin on dogs
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:36 No.14622313

    that's because dogs are stupid animals
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)09:40 No.14622330
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    great attempt at troll there
    youre the troll equivalent of pic related
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)10:38 No.14622665
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    It would be more accurate to say that dogs are simple. To them there are no great mysteries of life, no philosophy or ideology. There is only the master and his pack, the things that are worth protecting.

    When something threatens those things, there is no hesitation. No questioning of the value of ones own life, where they will go after death, or if those things are truly worth protecting. The dog thinks "I must protect my master and his pack and his territory." and that's what it does, with all of it's strength and will. Without hesitation it will throw it's life away if that is what it takes.

    Simple. Loyal. Dependable. Insult them all you will, they will love and serve you all the same. Only the jaws of death itself can tear them from their task.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)10:46 No.14622711
    My cat was the fucking mafia boss of the neighborhood I live in. He'd scare off dogs three times his own size (and he was a BIG tomcat to begin with), and if any new cats came in and started giving him shit, he'd beat the leaving daylights out of them. Despite this, he was a big old softie around me and my family.

    Unfortunately, didn't die in battle, he developed some kidney problems and we had to put him down earlier this year. I always felt terrible that he had to go out like that, denied a truly glorious ending.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)10:48 No.14622717
    You are a piece of shit.

    "Why did you kill my cat?"
    "Well, my snake escaped and your cat defended his territory by killing my snake, so I killed the cat. You know, because animals shouldn't try to defend their homes."

    I hope you die sad and alone.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)10:49 No.14622723
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    Dogs have been at mankind's side for so long, they have actually developed instincts regarding humans. When a human encounters a face, they automatically gaze leftwards across it, starting from the right side. This is how we read faces to tell emotion. Dogs do the same thing, and are the only other animal to do so.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)10:52 No.14622732
    You'll be glad to know that snakes can't feel love. Pythons especially will lie down lengthwise next to their owners when they are sleeping. This isn't a sign of affection, the snake is testing to see if it is large enough to eat the person yet.
    >> Eponymous Rex !!t92QraGPsj+ 04/17/11(Sun)10:56 No.14622753
    I Too own a rat Terrier.

    I'd say Molly is... A fighter. A grapple fighter. I bring her to my sessions and she spends most of her time wrasslin' and molestin' his beagle Vandal, who's easily twice her size. And winning.
    >> Eponymous Rex !!t92QraGPsj+ 04/17/11(Sun)11:01 No.14622771
    Then there was Chick who was a big old catahoula. That dog... shit, she was... A cleric or some kind of healer. If you were sick, you let her fat ass sit on you and you were healed. No exceptions. She managed to make it 18 years before finally having a stroke. I think my dad still has her ashes.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:03 No.14622788
    theres alo that whole imitation smile thing dogs do
    one of my dogs will wrinkle up her snout and bare her teeth in a dog smile since she has seen us do it to her so long
    freaky but kinda cute too
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:07 No.14622816
    It's strange 'cause most animals bare their teeth as a threat. "Look at what big sharp teeth I have" it says.

    So either the dog is trying to fit in with this strange custom, or it's reminding you "Hey I have sharp teeth, don't worry I got your back."
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:15 No.14622856
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    Do you guys have room for cats in this thread?

    Let me see if mine has earned a place amongst the canines, because to be honest, she acted more like a dog than a cat.

    Here she is pictured. Her name is Minette. Yes, it's a very disarming French Canadian name, and she is every bit as sweet and gentle as her name suggests.

    I was 9 years old when my dad pulled me out of foster care in 1997. When I moved in with him, he had three cats at the time. She was one of them. The other two had a neutral temperament with me, but Minette... it was almost like she adopted me instead of the other way around.

    She would follow me everywhere, though she knew not to go into the streets or onto the schoolbus with me, she was usually waiting for me when I got home from school every day until I graduated from highschool.

    She was an out door cat, and she did hunt mice, birds, and large rats. Like any cat, she would bring these back to the house to eat. Like a good hunter, she never wasted her kill. She ate everything.

    If my dad and I would get into arguments, she would put herself between us, and remain silent until we stopped. If that didn't work, she would start meowing to get our attention, and that always worked.

    When I went through highschool, I ended up adopting a habit that most highschoolers have before they mature and kick it: I forgot to eat meals every now and then if my dad left me to my own devices and was at work for something. I realized later that Minette would see this and she made the assumption that I was still a kitten.

    So she started taking steps to teach me how to hunt, just like a mother cat would to one of her kittens.

    Here's how that happened:

    Picture related. That's her.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:20 No.14622901
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    Cats are amazing. Proceed pls.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:24 No.14622928
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    The first time it happened, it was an afternoon on a summer day. She brought a dead mouse into our house (we had a cat flap installed that year). The mouse was undamaged. She must have snapped its neck when she caught it.

    I couldn't eat it, sadly, but I thanked her greatly and disposed of it when she wasn't looking.

    The second time it happened, she must have figured out I didn't know how to chew my food. So she brought me another mouse that was torn to ribbons this time. The bloody mess she left on the kitchen floor took me an hour to clean up. It was the morning of a spring day when that happened.

    The third time it happened: she realized (rightfully) that maybe I just didn't know how to catch a mouse. So how does a mother cat teach her kittens to catch a mouse?

    She brings her kittens a live mouse.

    It was 3 A.M when it happened. I heard a muffle meowing outside my bedroom door, which meant she was bringing something in. I groaned, expecting I would have to clean up another mess. My door doesn't shut, so she easily got in.

    I heard her drop something onto my floor.
    But I didn't expect to hear the noisy scratching of tiny feet scuttling away from her.

    I flipped the light on and there, in the corner of my room, quivering with terror, was an uninjured chipmunk. It took me an hour to catch the damn thing but I finally caught it. I set it free later.

    She must have felt satisfied that she taught me something, so she never brought me anything after that (I also made damn certain to eat my three meals a day so she wouldn't repeat any of that).

    Then there was the year she was attacked by a raven.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:24 No.14622930
    This thread reminds me of..... fuck, what was his name?

    Anyways, there was this Bear in WWII. Yeah, a fucking bear. He was raised from a cub by an artillery regiment (if I recall), I want to say it was Polish but I don't rightly remember. Anyways, since he grew up amongst humans, he thought he was human. So he adopted a few habits, such as drinking Booze, smoking cigarrettes, carrying ammunition, marching on two legs, and occasionally loading the artillery guns.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:27 No.14622949
    The only bear I remember would be Winnie that was the basis for the well known books. That one was a canadian regiment though.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:28 No.14622959
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    >Then there was the year she was attacked by a raven.

    But I thought cats and ravens were in cahoots with one another! Renegade raven, or was Minette too lawful good to put up with their bullshit?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:30 No.14622972
    Voytek the soldier bear. Carried an official rank, ended up in the Edinburgh zoo.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:30 No.14622976
    You are thinking of Wojtek. and it was a polish regiment
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:32 No.14622987

    wojtek bro

    the soilder bear
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:32 No.14622991
    Uh, one of my cats recovered from paralysis after 2 days and I had another cat that would kill tagged pigeons every morning for weeks leaving a mess of fucking feathers.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:36 No.14623012
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    One day she was laying on the grass in our backyard, lounging as cats do in the summer sun. I was sitting inside, watching her as I sometimes do when I don't have my face glued to a television while playing one of my consoles or on my PC.

    Our neighborhood is notorious for having some really large ravens make a home out of the trees in the area. They'll chase jays away, and we all know how tough blue jays can be when they get pissed.

    Well, one raven decided to... I don't know what it was thinking. It landed a few feet from Minette and started flapping its wings, holding them out threateningly. Squawking at her. I was about to run upstairs to help her, but I noticed she didn't seem to care. While it was making its threat display, she just lounged, licking at her paw.

    It took a few steps closer to try and muscle her off her spot. That's when she struck.

    She didn't even bother to get up. She just whipped her paw out, the very same one she had been cleaning, and slapped the raven on the side of its head. What's crazy is that she hurt it.

    The Raven staggered backwards and flapped away, perching on a nearby powerline.

    I watched as she went back to cleaning her paw which was now covered in blood, but I knew it wasn't hers. She was also eating something.

    From that day forward, whenever she went outside, that Raven would always be there on a powerline or in a nearby tree. Watching. Waiting for something. I never knew what.

    But I did know what she had eaten up after she slapped it. I saw that raven again a few days later, up close, after the initial confrontation.

    It was missing an eye.

    She died April 2010. We buried her in our back yard amongst her favourite patch of trees.

    I miss her.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:41 No.14623064
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    >It was missing an eye.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:41 No.14623065
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    At least we now know where the Japanese stole the idea for Song of Saya from.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:46 No.14623099

    I usually don't think much of most cats, they're too anti-social for my tastes, but that sounds like one awesome cat.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:50 No.14623133
    Sounds a bit like my cat. She's a feline version of a goddamn valkyrie. Always getting out on top of fights with rivals larger than her. A true warrior. Hats off to Minette, she was clearly a worthy cat.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:53 No.14623155
    I had a friend who lives in Panema with a tomcat/main coon hybrid. He has the size of a coon but the temperment and aggressiveness of a tomcat.

    He fought wild iguanas, those huge ones that you see lounging on rocks out near beaches, on a daily basis.

    His name was Conan.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:53 No.14623156
    Well, i think that's a Maine Coon, and those are the broest tier of cats. Also huge and fluffy as you can see.

    Had one too, a male, not neutered, very big and living in a flat... yeah, it was a mess. No wonder he seemed so happy when we went camping (well, after the car ordeal, it seemed to scare him a lot... he wasn't a very bold cat) and let him run around. We'd only see him when he came back to eat then.

    No warrior stories though, my mother used to visit some friends in a house in the middle of a forest and bring him with her, and one time he ran away, never saw him again. Sad as that made me, it might've been for the best.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:53 No.14623159

    Sergeant Stubby. Dog that was adopted in WWII, help a rank in the US army. Bro till the end.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)11:58 No.14623192
         File1303055934.jpg-(29 KB, 400x300, Drive me closer I want to hit (...).jpg)
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    I don't like cats as a whole, but holy shit that is an awesome cat.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:01 No.14623208
    I had a cat once, she was definitely a Ranger.
    She always wandered the wilds and protected "the Shire".

    She was also insane when it came to fights. Took on dogs,big birds and other cats. She also protected our holdings. The place where my family's land was had a lot of shrews,rabbits,raccoons and moles. A few coyotes too.

    Before we got her, the garden was always ravaged by the critters. Always eating away at our plants. Then, gradually, they began to disappear. Raids on our garden became less frequent, and eventually stopped entirely.

    There was also the time she killed a raccoon in single combat. It was roaming on our land, looking for what ever, when she fell on him. It was pretty cool. I was just standing there, looking at the raccoon, when she sprung out from ambush and collided with it. My thoughts were "Oh shit she is gonna die." I was very wrong. She tore at that thing, ripped it up pretty bad. She then jumped off and sat down a few feet from it. The raccoon slowly managed to stand, then dragged itself away.

    Some nights, you could hear coyotes howling not too far away. One night she left into the night and was gone for a few days. When she returned, the howling stopped. I don't know if it was related, but I like to think that it was.

    When I went adventuring in the huge forest that belonged to the family, she always tagged along. I pretended that I was a ranger and she was my companion.

    There was also the time when she caught a hare bigger than her and dragged it's corpse to the house. Quite a surprise in the morning.

    One day, I assume she heard The Call, and went off into the wild. She wasn't that old when she left. I like to think that she is still alive and has many adventures.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:01 No.14623209
    Yeah, mine's a Norwegian forest cat, and while I've moved to the city now, she lives back home in the country with my parents. She'd have gone insane if she didn't get to go out in the wild and kill shit.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:01 No.14623213
    I just recently lost my snake, it had managed to escape my house and into a nearby park. I was looking around for it, but never found it. I did find a patch of blood, and I fear some bird of prey or wild dog might have killed it.

    It was a red-bellied black snake by the way, and she was really friendly.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:02 No.14623215
    Not a big fan of dogs, hate the little bastards, but jack russels (i'm guessing thats what it is) are pretty bro-tier when trained right. Sorry for you loss OP.

    sage because, well, i've got nothing to contribute really
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:03 No.14623220
    >> one-eyed hermit 04/17/11(Sun)12:08 No.14623257
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:09 No.14623262
    We also had a bunny, his fur had a rich orange color, we decided to call him Erik the Red. One day he tore through the cage's door, jumped down a good 1 1/2 meter to the ground and ran off.

    Oddly he decided to live near the barn, he even let us pet him. I once saw him and my cat sitting together on a grassy hill near the barn. Shit was cash.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:10 No.14623273
    That's one badass terrier, op. Does she fight with snakes often? My Jack Russel just kills rats and mice, there aren't any snakes where we live (most of the Garden snakes are too scared and left the area).
    >> one-eyed hermit 04/17/11(Sun)12:12 No.14623288
    I know this beagle that got beat up by a rabbit... silly little bugger, but damn do I love 'im.
    he sure TRIES...he just fails forever
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:12 No.14623291
    Brett, shutup.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:19 No.14623336
    need moar pet stories
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:20 No.14623338
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:23 No.14623356
    I had a Papillon Chihuahua mix. We rescued her from our neighbor who was neglecting her. She turned into the matron of the family. She hunted lizards, birds, and gophers for us. She patrolled the house at night to keep the place in order.

    And she was vicious and she was fearless. Princess was a small dog, but she had balls twice her size. I got attacked by some stray dog out in the park. Princess noticed and came to my aid. She latched onto the dog's throat until we pulled her off. The stray ran off crying.

    In the end the only things that could drop my Princess was a car. My brother had fallen in the street, and Princess leaves no man behind. She managed to pull him out of traffic but was hit by a truck in the other lane that didn't even bother to stop or slow down.

    We buried her in our back yard with full honors. To this day no weeds grow near her grave. They don't have the stones.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:24 No.14623360
    I'm sorry for your loss.
    To keep in the spirit of the thread, here are 6 animals that just don't give a fuck.

    I think you'll particularly like #1. Snake gets dicked over big time.
    >> one-eyed hermit 04/17/11(Sun)12:24 No.14623363
         File1303057481.gif-(1.43 MB, 640x360, singlemanlytear.gif)
    1.43 MB
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:26 No.14623379
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    >To this day no weeds grow near her grave. They don't have the stones.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:29 No.14623394
    I'm not crying, it's just that I just got back from the pool and...

    Fuck it, I'm crying
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:35 No.14623437
    I don't have my own pet warrior stories, living in an area a bit too urban, but I do recall sleepless nights where all that could be heard is the sound of cats battling raccoons on rooftops.
    I haven't seen a raccoon on my block in years at this point, yet outdoor cats still prowl the area seeking their enemies.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:37 No.14623452
    Hmm... Reminds me of my cat.
    He went out with flying colors.
    Jumped out a window and took down three birds before hitting the ground and walking away only to be killed by a stray bullet from a shootout that was happening in the street.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:39 No.14623470
    Where the fuck do people like you even live? And how come there are internets there?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:41 No.14623476

    I believed in your story up until she dragged your brother out of the street. If the dog really was a Papillon Chihuahua mix, it would only have been able to drag an infant.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:41 No.14623478
    Jersey. The birds were gulls for better idea of how crazy this cat was.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:41 No.14623481
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    It's raining...
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:43 No.14623489
    When I lived with my parents we had a set of three animals: Two dogs, brother and sister, and a cat. The cat never got along with either of the dogs.

    One day the cat and the male dog came home injured. The cat had a pair of injured legs and couldn't walk and was being carried home in the dog's mouth, who was also limping and had a large gash on his head. When I looked at the cat further, he had been cut in the cut crudely. Organs were leaking and she was unconscious. I had my mother take her to the vet.

    The dog who returned was trying to lead me somewhere - not quite sure how I knew he was trying to lead me somewhere, but he was... just one of those things after living with an animal for so long. So like a good person, I followed. He lead me, while limping, to a bear. A dead bear. It had its throat and an eye torn out. I hadn't noticed it before, but there was blood on the dog's teeth. I was quite amazed at this, thinking they had killed a bear... until I looked right next to the bear to see a clump of blood and fur: The female dog, and she wasn't breathing. The cat had been mauled by this creature, and the male dog must have barely been able to kill it. Near the female dog's body was the bear's nose, so I assumed the three of them had been in a fight with it.
    Cont'd in the next post
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:44 No.14623496
    >>14623489 Continuted
    The male dog collapsed at this point, exhausted by his wounds and by the battle he had fought and I truly thought I had lost all three of them to this animal. I knew I couldn't save the female dog, but maybe the male dog I could save. I picked him up, all 150 pounds, and carried him back home... the heaviest load I have ever carried in my life. I drove him to the vet when I got back home and left the female dog there.... in the back of my mind I cursed myself for being so weak and knew I couldn't save her.

    I eventually made it home and loaded the dog into the truck and drove to the vet to meet my mother. "That poor dog," I thought, "had to go into battle with that thing and had to carry Desu(the name of the cat. Yes, we called him Desu) back in his mouth while being that injured"

    Made it to the vet and met with my mother there, they had already taken the cat into surgery. I dropped the male dog off, said, what I said, and headed back home to get the female dog and take care of her. Didn't think she was alive, but I knew I had to at least try because, damnit, it's family!

    So when I get home there's a bloody corpse sitting next to the doors: the female dog had decided she had waited enough and walked home. Scared the bloody hell out of me. I looked her over and she was fine other than a little bit of bear blood on her. Just to be safe, I loaded her up and took her to the vet as well.

    They had finished giving the cat stitches and fiddling with his intestines when I arrived, so the male dog was being looked at. He was put into a cast. He took a look at the female dog who was, scaringly, just happy to see people. Apparantly she had suffered a concussion from the battle and was just tired.

    All three animals came out of it alive and took down a bear. I think they leveled up too.

    After that incident, the cat started to be more social to the two dogs.

    What kind of feats should a level 2 dog take anyways?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:47 No.14623522
    I have two sibling dogs, Peach and Brutus. Brutus sorta looks like a Boxer, and Peach like a Lab. Both mutts, both from the same litter. Brutus is a grappler through and through and he fights for justice. Many a dog have come for him and ours teeth bared, looking for blood, sometimes getting it from Brutus. Very many times has he been in position to end the lives of those that come after him, but not once have I seen him draw blood from another. He waits for his shot and pins the opposing dog to the ground by their neck or collar if they were them, and simply holds them there until the other dog runs out of steam. After a while he lets go and the other dog just leaves. Even if it comes back again Brutus does the same, and will do it until the other dog leaves. Sometimes the dogs come in groups. Once four dogs set upon Peach and Brutus. And that's where Peach shines. Brutus takes control of the aggressor and the rest of his group will try to make it into the fight, but Peach patrols around Brutus and his fight, keeping a circle around them. She never actually fights, but keeps all the dogs separated. Once Brutus has finished with his and the aggressor dog runs, his group usually leaves as well as Peach and Brutus stand fast with me. I'm not sure what you'd call Peach.

    Short version, neighbors and those in the neighborhood take terrible care of their dogs. My dogs deal with it. I live in Memphis. This is their story.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:47 No.14623526
    Cats fighting racoons....A great underground war spanning continents, hidden from the human eye.
    Battles take place everywhere, may it be in rural areas or in the middle of big cities. The two warring races seek the other's annihilation, or maybe there is something that they are fighting over.

    Thank you /tg/, I got myself a new homebrew.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:48 No.14623536
    "Kill it with numbers"
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:50 No.14623552
    clearly the souls of all mankind
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:51 No.14623556
    naw man, I had a friend wh oowned a chiuahua. that little fucker was vicious. it could drag him across the kitchen floor
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:52 No.14623562
    So is this a Lose/lose situation for us?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:53 No.14623570
    Nah man, look at Egypt. They were driven to GREAT SUCCESS by the virtue and supervision of cats.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:53 No.14623575
    The racoons want to devour them whole, while the cats feed off them slowly. They know to keep the harvest self sustaining.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)12:55 No.14623585

    I like this.

    Raccoons try to devour us like savages, while the cats do it subtly, and by giving us technology in the form of inspiration.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:00 No.14623621
    My family used to live in a trailer park, before our trailer burned down. We don't know what the fuck caused it, but that's not the point.

    My parents had cats. Lots of cats. Two that really stand out were named Mr. Black and Ms. Kitty. They would harry prowling guard dogs that came into our yard. Y'know, for fun. They'd hide under the house, and one would dart out to get their attention before the other one would jump on its flanks. They couldn't reach back that far, and by the time they knocked the cat loose of their ass, the other one was back under the house, and the one on their ass would dart off, and let the other get a few hits in on the dog's ass.

    This all stopped during one such outing when one of the cats came back to the house freaked out. She led my dad away from the house... Mr. Black was my dad's cat, and the dog had brought back-up.

    Mr. Black had a gaping hole in his side and if my dad had had his gun he would have shot the dog that did it. But, Mr. Black was still alive and trying to walk around.

    Now, my dad's not a vet, but he sewed that cat's side up, and he lived for we really don't know how long after, because he decided, one day, that his job at our house was done and he just walked off into the sunset.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:01 No.14623625
    Why eat our souls?
    What do dogs do in this?
    What do the other animals do in this?
    What happens when a human figures it out?
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:02 No.14623635
         File1303059725.png-(92 KB, 1567x655, tg - Homeward Bound.png)
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    Saved for glorious posterity.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:03 No.14623653
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:04 No.14623658
    >Walked off into the sunset.
    Many animals seem to do that.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:05 No.14623675
    If I thought someone was going to save it I would have written it better.

    Aw well, c'est la vie.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:06 No.14623676
    I would love to have a picture of your warriors.

    Hell, that goes for everyone else too.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:07 No.14623689
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    This image now applies to BEARS.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:08 No.14623694

    To hell with that, posts written naturally on a whim always have more life to them.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:09 No.14623703
    my faithful pet wasn't big, but his presence was large. He was a cat gangster. He owned his domain and the cats that served under him. His base of operations was under my deck and while I offered him food and shelter his life was truly outdoors.
    Often, he would be gone days at a time. I would sit and worry, wistfully staring out the window, waiting for what I believed what my sweet little kitty to return. And return he would, often covered in battle scars, dirty and wet, but triumphant nonetheless. If it was possible for him to be more badass, I wouldn't want to see it. He had a healed scar over one of his thankfully undamaged eyes. If he were a man, he would wear the finest italian suits with an engraved ivory pistol that he would keep closer to his side then his finest women cohorts.
    He was not without a sense of duty and honour- to earn his keep, he often brought me dead minor adversaries of his, slaughtered appropriately so that I may eat of their still warm flesh. But h understood if I didn't, however... it was mostly symbolic at that point.

    He died a gentleman's death. With power and control he operated and when kidney disease finally claimed him I realized his silent dignity deserved more then a permanent regimen of drugs and house arrest for the rest of his life. He died stoically, his brazen face grimacing in anticipation of a foe not even he could outwit.

    Godspeed, my friend. You were not my cat. You were your OWN cat.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:11 No.14623719
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    And then we let the three hardened killers live in our house.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:11 No.14623724
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    Did this gentleman cat extraordinaire have a name to match?

    inb4 Mr. Skittles
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:13 No.14623734
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    They don't give no kinda fuck.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:14 No.14623743
    I never really gave him a name to be honest.

    On his vet forms, and on his tag, was printed "Killer", a friend of mine noticed how badass he was and remarked
    >holy shit, it's a killer kitty. That thing is stone cold.
    and it stuck.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:16 No.14623759
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    Holy shit
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:16 No.14623762
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:22 No.14623809
    Listen, /tg/, to the tale of Samwise the cat. He is an old cat, ancient now, and so fat that he looks like an orange throw pillow, but his greatness is such that the world must know of him.

    I first met Samwise on my birthday, years ago, on a trip to the animal shelter with my mother and brother. I'd wanted a cat for years, as the last ones that had lived with my family had been farm cats who eventually left due to inescapable differences with the dog. I was initially interested in a rather energetic white cat, but then my brother grabbed me and said, "Come here."

    Sitting in a cage by himself, covered in thick orange fur, and nearly fused with the carpet was a cat named "Shaggy". I wasn't initially interested, but my brother convinced me that it was a good idea, simply saying, "Do you really want an energetic cat that's freaking out all the time, or a laid-back guy like this one?"

    We took him home, and christened him Samwise, as he was probably the most laid-back cat in existence. He still had his claws, and would occasionally climb things, or simply amuse himself by defending himself from the dog. This is not the story of his badassery, however; that comes shortly.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:23 No.14623815
    Had a squirrel that came up to me when I came home and got out my car. I left a container of peanuts sitting on the roof while I put groceries away. The little bastard started eating out it.

    It was apparently trained from that and kept doing it: Every time I came home during the day he'd come up to the car and stare at me with his beady little eyes. I kept a container of nuts in the car for him.

    I named him Dale.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:28 No.14623848
    After a few years, during which he slept a lot and hung out in my room, Samwise snuck outside. After freaking out for an hour, he showed up at the door, quite content, and an executive decision was made; Samwise would forever be allowed to go outside, because he seemed to really enjoy it.

    It was then that his true glory was shown. He was a hunter, despite being fat and fuzzy. Normally, our back porch was awash with the extra organs of mice, voles, and rabbits, but on occasion, he'd leave a few pieces of birds here and there.

    One day, Samwise was late getting back home. I was worried, but I figured he'd end up back in the house soon enough. When he didn't come back that night, I was worried. We went out looking for him, but couldn't locate him even after checking the woods near to the house. Then, just as the sun was setting on the next day, I saw an orange shape, dragging something a bit bigger than him.

    I ran towards it, and there was Samwise, cut up and looking rather ragged. What was he dragging?

    A motherfucking badger. He'd killed a damn badger, all on his own.

    We took him to the vet, got him checked out, and he was fine. Smug, even. He's gone on to kill a lot more stuff in his time, and one of his ears is permanently swollen due to an injury he sustained while playing with some horses. He's been with me for everything; when my family moved across the country, when my first girlfriend cheated on me and left for another man, when I learned I'd been accepted to a proper graduate school and was getting funding. He's still alive, he's still enormously fat, and he's still up there, relaxing for everyone.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:34 No.14623889
    I had a small terrier once, Medina, a snow white little guy who would bark at anything that so much looked at our house funny. He was the family dog for 12 years. About 8 years into his career, we got another dog. A hulking, dumb as a rock chocolate lab. Fat bastard too, around 140 pounds.

    The two of them would switch periodically between phases of companionship and rivalry. I've only got two moments that really stand out in my mind. I was doing some garden work when the terrier went chasing after a rabbit. He killed it, picked it up in his mouth, and placed it by the lab. The lab promptly swallowed the rabbit.

    The last event that I remember was during his last year. He was getting old and had a bunch of internal problems, and we weren't about to pay for an operation, it was just getting close to his time. I was out on the porch when I saw my two dogs sitting together, staring at something. They were staring at a damned coyote. The coyote would move a few steps closer to our yard, and the dogs would keep staring him down. I was thinking that someone was going to make a move, but the coyote just turned away after a minute or two.

    I'd like to think that in his last year with us, he stared down a coyote.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:34 No.14623895
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    This image is what this thread feels like.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:36 No.14623911
    Sad and awkward, but at least you're not alone?
    >> Iron Lung 04/17/11(Sun)13:37 No.14623914
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    Bravo, Anon. Bravo.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:40 No.14623937
    I guess you never watched Power Rangers growing up.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:46 No.14623986
    I watched the original series, but I don't quite understand what you are trying to say.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)13:54 No.14624066
    That is a shot from Forever Red. Basically every fucking red ranger appears and work together to kill a god-like being.
    Total badass implication
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)16:56 No.14625722
    pet bump
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)17:02 No.14625760
    Until Serpentera loses to a motorcycle. That part kinda sucks.

    Also Once a Ranger is a similar crossover in the multiple rangers from other seasons, but only Adam of the Mighty Morphin days returns. Still a good crossover though.
    >> monotreeme 04/17/11(Sun)19:16 No.14626841
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    rolled 67 = 67

    I'm going to split off this thread's primary 2 protagonists(dogs and cats) to say a few words about my dearly departed horse.

    his name was nino, he was a big fat white pony who had at least a class level in rogue, because he could open padlocks, if he knew were the key was anyway. he could operate doorknobs as well because one morning my parents found him lying down, in the living room.

    he helped paint the family workshop with a roller in his teeth, and whenever I would work on my car he'd try and help by bringing me some tool he thought would be helpful.

    he'd prance for knowledgeable riders, or walk slow for children who just wanted to sit on him. and if he thought you were falling off he'd catch you.

    when I started doing my evening stroll he got out and followed me down the street.

    he was the only friend I had from age 1 to 12;he was almost a brother, my mother literally had just healed from my delivery when she delivered him.
    >> monotreeme 04/17/11(Sun)19:51 No.14627142
    rolled 53 = 53

    I feel that this thread requires the words of Kipling

    four feet...

    I have done mostly what most men do,
    And pushed it out of my mind;
    But I can’t forget, if I wanted to,
    Four-Feet trotting behind.

    Day after day, the whole day through—
    Wherever my road inclined—
    Four-Feet said, ‘I am coming with you!’
    And trotted along behind.

    Now I must go by some other round,—
    Which I shall never find—
    Somewhere that does not carry the sound
    Of Four-Feet trotting behind.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)20:03 No.14627252
    brb gonna drive hundreds of miles home to hug my dog and cat
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)20:35 No.14627519
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    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)20:47 No.14627635
    Man, I'd forgotten what a shitty poet Kipling was.
    >> monotreeme 04/17/11(Sun)20:52 No.14627680
    rolled 27 = 27


    I feel the urge to state that that is an opinion. I quite enjoy some of his poetry.

    the power of the dog

    THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
    From men and women to fill our day;
    And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
    Why do we always arrange for more?
    Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
    Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

    Buy a pup and your money will buy
    Love unflinching that cannot lie—
    Perfect passion and worship fed
    By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
    Nevertheless it is hardly fair
    To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

    When the fourteen years which Nature permits
    Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
    And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
    To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
    Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
    But . . . you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

    When the body that lived at your single will,
    With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
    When the spirit that answered your every mood
    Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
    You will discover how much you care,
    And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

    We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
    When it comes to burying Christian clay.
    Our loves are not given, but only lent,
    At compound interest of cent per cent.
    Though it is not always the case, I believe,
    That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve.
    For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
    A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
    So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
    Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
    >> Eponymous Rex !!t92QraGPsj+ 04/17/11(Sun)21:23 No.14628029
    I've been listening to "The Real Folk Blues" while reading this thread.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)23:38 No.14629255
    I... I miss my pets. There were a few, but my family is never having another, not now that it'd be too hard looking after them, with various family health issues.

    The first I can recall was a black and white cat when I was very small. His name was once Cocoa... but I called him Puss-Puss, because I was like three or so, and the name stuck.
    Not that it fit very well. He was a mean bastard, practically half-feral. He used to bring down birds - even putting a bell on him didn't help, once he worked out how to lower his head and smother the sound.

    But cats with white faces are not meant for Aussie outdoors. He got cancer in his nose, and it ate away at the side of his face. It turned him into even more of a loner. We did put him down before it could make him suffer further; I was only little then, but I like to think he had his time alone in the bush, and came back only when he was ready for it.
    >> Anonymous 04/17/11(Sun)23:50 No.14629378
    If he was the mean, grizzled woodsman... the pet we had next, a dog, was the devoted guardian.

    Her name was Ebony; a black dog, a mix of breeds - labrador, kelpie, who knows what else. She'd bark if people came to the house, and seemed so fierce that some people had to check with us that she'd behave before they got out of their cars.

    But she was friendliness itself once someone wasn't a stranger. She never got aggressive with us; the only time she ever so much as gave me a little nip was when she had puppies, and I, being young, foolish, and entranced by cuteness, had got too close to the pups while she was nursing them.

    We didn't have to leash her all the time on walks; we could let her off, knowing she'd come when she was called.

    Her exploring took her to the other side of a large creek/small river that we'd crossed the bridge over and gone along the back.

    We called, not knowing where exactly she was. She came. She swam across to get to us, and we could see that it wasn't easy stuff. But we'd called her, so she was determined to get to us.

    She died when old, but until then, she was as loyal as you could have hoped for.
    >> Anonymous 04/18/11(Mon)00:04 No.14629497
    Poor Mali, our next dog, was labXstaffy, black, and adorable. But she died, when still very young; paralysis tick venom stopped her heart.
    I still remember that Mum rang the school and got the message sent to me that she was gone.

    Likewise labXstaffy (English Staffordshire, not American) was Pepper. We got her from the animal shelter, and she was enthusiastic even from the beginning, just a puppy when we got her.
    She looked like she should have been black, but instead, she had the staffy brindle colours - but not the pattern - spread out over her.

    Silly thing. She tangled with a car when she was young. It left her with a bit of scarring on one side of her face, nothing drastic. But at least it taught her to watch out for cars.

    Crazy girl, she used to go racing around the verandah all round our house, in big circles, running for the pure joy of it. We taught her to jump through a hula hoop once, but we didn't keep it up, and she forgot.
    Sometimes she'd go visit the neighbours; they liked her.

    I miss the staffy grin she used to give. She was enthusiastic, energetic, and not even remotely sensible. She'd come charging over to you without realising the impact - she was built, due to the staffy blood, rather like an over-tall wombat. Solid chest, and thanks to the labrador blood, sizeable back end. So she'd collide with you, despite being a small dog, and you'd stagger as a result.

    She died of liver failure, eventually. We buried her alongside the back fence, beside Ebony and Mali.
    Silly, useless creature; wouldn't have been any use against a burglar other than to try to lick him to death, because she loved everybody.

    I miss her. She was our last dog.
    >> Lord Castellan Ursarkar E Creed 04/18/11(Mon)08:17 No.14633009
    Figure I ought to contribute something.

    Right now, my family has three dogs. Of them the only real one that could be classified as a warrior would be the eldest female Kelly, due to lack of socialization and pampering from parents she is absolutely a terror to anyone she does not know while simultaneously incapable of harming anyone considered family. A good 5 years ago when she was the youngest of 3 dogs we had an issue with coyotes lurking on the back fields of the property. The two older dogs were too smart or too lazy to get off the porch to fuck with the coyotes but the one time Kelly managed to get out she started barreling towards it. Mind you at this point she is roughly 1/4 the size of the Coyote. She rolls it, comes around and starts body slamming this thing before sprinting back to the house, leaving a shell shocked coyote wondering what the fuck had just hit it. She's quite old now, slowly losing her sight and other ailments are catching up, along with the Hip problems that most "Purebred" boxers get. Doesn't stop her from trying to lick everyone or barking up a storm if some unknown shows up at the farm.

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