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Dog Tales

This is a category where we welcome users to send us funny stories, poems, quotations and pictures relating to dogs.  Please send your dog stories, dog jokes, dog poems, weird or interesting dog tales by contacting

Mismatched pairs or Dog Breeds That Didn't Make It!

Alan has sent in these mismatched dogs that he has collected over the years.  It gave us a giggle and I hope it will you!
Deerhound + Terrier
Derriere, a dog that's true to the end.
Spitz + Chow Chow
Spitz-Chow, a dog that throws up a lot.
Kerry Blue Terrier + Skye Terrier
Blue Skye, a dog for visionaries.
Great Pyrenees + Dachshund
Pyradachs, a puzzling breed.
Pekingnese + Lhasa Apso
Peekasso, an abstract dog.
Irish Water Spaniel + English Springer Spaniel
Irish Springer, a dog fresh and clean as a whistle.
Labrador Retriever + Curly Coated Retriever
Lab Coat Retriever, the choice of research scientists.
Newfoundland + Basset Hound
Newfound Asset Hound, a dog for financial advisors.
Terrier + Bulldog
Terribull, a dog that makes awful mistakes.
Bloodhound + Labrador
Blabador, a dog that barks incessantly.
Malamute + Pointer
Moot Point, owned by...oh, well, it doesn't matter anyway.
Collie + Malamute
Commute, a dog that travels to work with you.
Bloodhound + Borzoi
Bloody Bore, a dog that's not much fun.
Pointer + Setter
Poinsetter, a traditional Christmas pet.
Collie + Lhasa Apso
Collapso, a dog that folds up for easy transport.

If anyone else has a mismatched pair, we'd love to hear from you and add it to the list!

by Andi Godfrey


A lady had decided that she wanted to give a dog a new home so, on April 1st,  she went to visit her nearest dog rescue centre.  She was greeted by the manager who asked her what sort of dog she had in mind. 

 “I was thinking of a little dog as I don’t have a lot of space at home,” she said.

“If you don’t mind waiting a moment,” said the manager,  “I will go and find out if the kennel staff have finished feeding and then you can have a look around at your leisure.”

The manager disappeared through some gates and the lady was left on her own.  She had a look around her but there was nothing to see other than a greyhound alone in an outdoor pen. 

Suddenly, she heard a voice;

“Good afternoon,” it said, politely. 

The lady looked about her but saw no one.  She must have imagined it. 

Then she heard the voice again, “I said, good afternoon.”

She looked around again but still there was no one in sight.

“I’m over here!”

The woman looked at the greyhound astonished and asked warily, “D-did you speak to me?”

“Yes. Indeed I did” said the greyhound, “ I said, good afternoon.”

“Oh er..I’m so sorry.  I didn’t realise.....  Um....good afternoon.”

There was a silence for a moment and then hesitantly, the lady asked,

“Are you a racing greyhound?”

“What? Am I a racing greyhound! Madam, you are addressing the champion of all racing greyhounds. In my time, I won the St Leger twice and the Derby four years running.”

Before the lady could reply the manager of the shelter reappeared and said, “I’m so sorry to keep you.  You can go through now.”

“No,”  said the lady, “I’ve made up my mind.   I’ll take the greyhound.”

“That big old chap!  But I thought you wanted a smaller dog?”  Said the manager.

“No.  It’s definitely got to be the greyhound.” 

“Well, that's lovely of you.  I’m delighted.  But do you mind my asking, why?”

“He’s fantastic!” said the lady.  “He spoke to me! He told me that he’d won the St Leger twice and the Derby four times.”

The manager started to laugh.  “Oh dear!  You didn’t fall for that old gag, did you?”

The lady began to feel a little embarrassed.  Had she been made a fool of?

The manager stopped laughing and said,

“That dog is such a liar.  He’s never been near a race track.”

There are many dogs like this greyhound seeking a home.  We can’t guarantee that they will talk to you, but they do have a lot of love to share. To find the centre nearest to you and read about some of the dogs needing homes, click DOG RESCUE. 


Mrs Mary Middleton was a well-respected member of a small community in the West Country and was in charge of the local hospice.  One of her patients was the wife of the gardener who worked at the local stately home.  One day, she went to visit the gardener at his place of work.  The gardener took great pleasure in showing Mary over the grounds.  While they were walking through the estate, they met a member of royalty who lived there.  Having been introduced, Mary asked if HRH would be patron of the hospice and he readily agreed. 

Four years later Mary was stricken with cancer herself and became a resident in her own hospice.   HRH came to visit her every Boxing Day.  When she died HRH sent a huge bouquet of flowers to the hospice and Mary’s husband, Graham keeps the card in his wallet to this day.

Graham and his wife owned two Yorkshire terriers.  After Mary’s death one of the Yorkies, who was particularly attached to her, started to pine.  He would not eat and became very depressed and listless.

Graham continued to visit the hospice regularly where he would meet other people who knew his wife.  One of the patients, who purported to have psychic tendencies said to Graham, “Your wife is asking for her dog.”

The dog was deteriorating daily and eventually Graham became extremely worried about its quality of life.  After consulting with a vet, the decision was made to have the dog euthanased to prevent further suffering. 

Some days later, two envelopes fell through the letter box – just the two.  One was a bill from the vet for the euthanasia of the dog - £118.34.  The other was the maturation on death of an insurance policy that was in Mary’s name, of which Graham was totally unaware, for the sum of £118.34.

• This story is absolutely true but in deference to the people who were involved, all names are totally fictitious.

By Nick Mays

WHAT WITH Dangerous Dogs back in the news and, coincidentally furniture manufacturer DFS sponsoring Crufts, it put me in mind of a tongue-in-cheek article I wrote some years ago about where laws based on the ridiculous Dangerous Dogs Act could go.

I’ve tweaked it a little to bring it up to date and I think it still has a certain relevance. Enjoy! And remember… life often imitates art…!

ONE NEWS story in particular caught my eye a while back and it set me thinking on all sorts of different levels, and it even got me thinking to just how truly stupid breed specific legislation is.

 Confused? Indulge me a moment…


You probably saw the story yourself. The Swedish furniture manufacturer IKEA opened its latest superstore in Edmonton, north London. There was a grand opening at midnight on Wednesday, February 9th 2005 - but closed just 40 minutes later as 6,000 frenzied shoppers stampeded for bargains, leaving 20 in need of hospital treatment!

One woman was said to have been threatened by a man with a mallet, and another waiting in the checkout queue was ‘mugged’ for her cut-price sofa. Security guards were reported to have fled the scene, leaving the manager and his staff to try to control the unruly crowds until they called the police to restore order and no less than nine ambulances ferried people to hospital with heat exhaustion and crush injuries.

The problem began when thousands of bargain-hunters raced for the soft furnishing department, determined to get their hands on one of 350 sofas, usually on sale for £325, for just £49 each.

A 50-year-old woman, who did not want to be named, said she had managed to get a sofa into a trolley and was waiting in the checkout line when three younger women wrestled her for it.

"I couldn't believe it," she said. "They manhandled it off me and then took it through the check-out and paid for it."

Initially, the whole incident simply summed up pretty much what’s wrong with British society nowadays – that it’s all “Me, me, me”, particularly amongst the younger generation, and that good manners and patience has gone out of the window. Then I thought a bit further about whether this might set a precedent for similar incidents in the future.

We’ve all seen the TV news on Christmas Day – the stoic, slightly deranged shoppers camping outside this or that huge department store to nab this or that bargain in the Boxing Day sales. There’s usually a scrum when the sale opens come Boxing Day, but it’s a good-natured British scrum and people generally tend to end up with the bargain they’re after. But will the IKEA experience mean that every sale is going to end up in a pitched battle?

Something must be done!

The tabloid media will no doubt ponder this question and, in turn, Government Ministers, who will seek the advice of ‘experts’ in the matter. You can almost see the thought processes (such as they are) taking shape:

Could it be that furniture sales are attracting a pretty nasty sort of customer? The typical sort would be young, shaven headed, probably wearing lots of bling, a baseball cap or a hoodie (and that’s just the women). Why are they turning up at furniture sales for sofas? Maybe it’s a particular type of sofa… Well, the fighting started at IKEA, so they were after IKEA sofas. So yes, yes, those Swedish sofas must be dangerous! Something must be done to stop these anti-social yobs getting their hands on these dangerous sofas!!!

Before you know it, they’ve drafted the Dangerous Sofas Act and it’s being steamrollered through Parliament to show that the Government are sensitive to the worries of the people in these days of increased lawlessness, and the media must be shown that the Government will act, and aren’t as bad as they make out, they DO care. Hey, you never know, there may even be votes in it. Forget Weapons of Mass Destruction (and how we wish you would!), we can tackle these dangerous sofas and the evil people that fight for them… or even use them for fighting. Illegal sofa fights – we know they take place, we will stamp them out!

Legal Definition

And then, yes, we have to determine which sofas are dangerous. Well, it was those Swedish ones, wasn’t it? Ah, but how can you really tell? A sofa is a sofa, really – same basic design. Ah, but these are fabric covered. Right, so it’s the fabric covered sofas that are of the dangerous type. Type? ‘Type’! That’s a good word. The Act can say that “sofas of the Swedish ‘type’ will be banned”. You can’t buy them, you can’t exchange them as gifts, you can’t breed with them (or on them). Existing Swedish sofas must be destroyed. No, no, can’t do that – the people won’t like to burn their sofas. Okay then, all existing sofas of the Swedish ‘type’ must be registered by a particular date. If they’re not registered by that date, then a police officer can kick your door down on suspicion of you having a sofa of the dangerous type, they can trash your living room and seize the sofa and remove it to a secret location (maybe down the local nick where the overworked constables can put their feet up after a strenuous paperwork shuffle) and then it’s down to YOU, the owner, the prove that the sofa is NOT of the Swedish ‘type’.

Then it’ll have to go to court. We’ll need expert witnesses, people from the soft furnishings industry maybe. Expensive? Yes, most likely, but it’s a justifiable expense to protect people from those DANGEROUS SOFAS!!!!

In fact, the court room dramas may well be along the lines of those endured by the owners of perfectly well behaved crossbreed dogs that were accused of being pit bull ‘type’ dogs under the Dangerous Dogs Act when certain vets regularly appeared for the prosecution and helped condemn the dogs to death merely for their appearance.

Expert Witness Evidence
Picture the scene, a local Crown Court, the prosecution barrister, be-wigged ad be-gowned is in full flow, whilst the poor defendant, a law-abiding, tax paying middle woman who just bought the sofa because she liked the design is sitting in the dock, wiping away the tears.

The barrister addresses a hard-faced woman in a designer suit in the witness box.

Barrister:  “Ms Killkrazy, please could you tell the court what your occupation is?”

Ms Killkrazy:” I am an interior designer and I own my own upholstering repair business.”

Barrister: “So you are, are you not, a sort of ‘sofa vet’?”

Ms Killkrazy: “I am, that is correct. I am often called by the Crown Prosecution Service to give evidence as to the determination of a sofa’s ‘type’ in cases such as this”

Barrister “And how many sofas of the dangerous Swedish ‘type’ have you examined in your time as a witness for the CPS?”

Ms Killkrazy: “Ooooh, around 10,000.”

Barrister “And is that in the past year? The past month?”

Ms Killkrazy: “No, in the past week!”

Barrister: “And the sofa seized from the living room of Mrs Jones, the defendant in this case. You examined said sofa at your own premises, did you not?”

Ms Killkrazy: “I did, yes.”

Barrister: “And what were your conclusions?”

Ms Killkrazy: “I measured the sofa, ascertained that it had four legs, was well upholstered and was covered in a durable, but soft fabric. I cross referenced this with photographs of a number of Swedish sofas from the IKEA catalogue and determined that it was indeed, of the Swedish ‘type’ an therefore potentially dangerous, as per Section 1 of the Dangerous Sofas Act.”

Judge [waking up]: “I’ve heard enough. Guilty as charged! I order that the sofa be destroyed forthwith and that the defendant is fined £10,000 and will pay all costs in this case!”
And so on and so on…

Meanwhile, overseas – say, in Australia or Germany, or anywhere you like really, the Government decides that there have been too many punch-ups caused by yobs that are known to have sofas in their houses. Well, that Dangerous Swedish Sofas Act worked a treat in the UK…


Pass me the valium… I’m pulling the duvet over my head and I’m staying in bed away from this mad world. But I can’t have a lie down on the sofa… the police seized that last week…
…and they said my armchairs looked pretty menacing too…

By Nick Mays

THERE are two old adages that I find come to mind with ever-increasing frequency nowadays: Life Imitating Art and You Couldn’t Make It Up. Just recently, I called to mind an example of both… and both had to do with Crufts. Or more specifically, DFS Crufts.

First off, let me say right at the outset, I have no problem whatsoever with DFS being the main sponsor of Crufts – they make great furniture and I’ve sat on several examples of it and have felt very comfortable.  I’m not even that fussed that the World’s Greatest Dog Show has been promoted as DFS Crufts. Despite what the purists say, I’m sure that if that wily old Master of Promotion and PR Charles Cruft was still alive, he’d have no qualms attaching the name of a sponsor as prestigious and prodigious as DFS to his own if it meant more bodies through the doors (and bums on seats, naturally).

Sofa, so good… Sorry , I mean so far, so good. Now, when I heard that DFS had become Crufts’ sponsor it reminded me of a segment of an episode of that kids’-show-cum-satire comedy The Goodies, which gently ‘sent up’ Crufts and the whole designer dog and soft furnishings issue. But here’s the thing – this was in 1975!

The episode in question was titled Frankenfido and was screened exactly 35 years ago on 10th March 1975. The plot – and that’s a generalisation – involves the Goodies (Graeme Garden, Tim Brooke-Taylor and Bill Oddie) going to Crufts. Graeme, in usual mad scientist mode, has set himself up as a dog breeder, churning out ever-increasingly bizarre ‘designer dogs’ from his laboratory-like breeding establishment. Cue plenty of typically silly Goodies sight gags, such as Graeme’s assistant feeding an Old English Sheepdog on Dulux paint. (My 18 year-old daughter watched this episode with me, but didn’t ‘get’ that joke until I explained it to her. How sad is that?)

Tim and Bill have bought one of Graeme’s designer dogs to enter in the ‘Novelty Breeds Section’ at Crufts, but are less than impressed with the creature, which resembles a mop head (and behaves accordingly). When they go to complain to Graeme, he tells them that he’s “exhausted all breeding ideas with dogs” and has decided to cross dogs with other animals and other things, including furniture and household appliances, by using his specially enhanced Honmones which “get them at it like knives”.

Thus it is that a number of these new breeds (they breed incredibly quickly) make it to the Novelty Breeds section of that year’s Crufts via some nice stock footage of an old Cruft’s dog show in the austere early 70s settings of Olympia. (Crufts, incidentally, is spelt here ye olde way with the apostrophe!). There’s a Parrot/Spaniel cross that flies with its ears, a 3 Toed Sloth Hound, a Lavatory with snapping seat described as a King Charles Lavatory, a spotted gas cooker described as ‘Eye Level Grill II’, a North Sea Gas Dalmatian and… Article Punchline Alert!… an armchair with a tail, called ‘Rickmansworth Interior Sprung Loose Covers G Plan’.

Of course it all goes horribly wrong. Tim and Bill enter their own dog, which is Bill dressed in a dog costume and calling himself  ‘Cuddly Scamp Hair Legs of Cricklewood’ (‘Spot’ for short), where he beats all the other entrants by being obedient and then showing his intelligence by assembling a car. (The Armchair Dog just stares at the car components). After this, Bill (a.k.a. Spot) wins the trophy for Obedience and Intelligence, much to Graeme’s chagrin, then appears on and wins Mastermind. Cue cameo by Magnus Magnesium [sic] and awful puns:

Q: “Screech, Tawny and Barn are all species of what?”
A: “Owwwwlll!”).

Graeme meanwhile constructs a giant dog out of parts of famous people (Robin Day’s legs, Donny Osmond’s teeth etc.) and enters the resultant hybrid named Frankenfido into the Champion of Champions section at Crufts.

Of course, mayhem ensues, with Bill/Spot attacking Frankenfido, the Eye Level Grill and Armchair dog attacking Graeme and Tim and then all the other dogs attacking everyone. This leads into a famous Goodies chase scene, which culminates in Frankenfido and Bill/Spot ending up back at Graeme’s laboratory and locking themselves in for three days.

The final scene is set one year later. Graeme is parcelling up the last pieces of the now disassembled Frankenfido to return to their rightful owners whilst Bill is still lounging around in the dog costume and behaving, well, like a dog. Tim and Graeme ruminate on the fact that Frankenfido was a bitch, the hormones were in the laboratory at the time with Bill and Frankenfido and, well…. “Oh, you didn’t?” they cry, just as Bill/Spot gets up to answer a knock at the door.

In shambles a junior Bill Oddie on all fours, with a black nose, long ears and fur, he looks up at Spot and pants “Dada! Dada!”

Well, a wonderfully nostalgic way to spend half an hour watching a daft kids’ programme (it’s on YouTube right now, folks!). But it set me thinking… Who’d have thought, when this episode was screened with its daft Armchair Dog owned by the ‘Furniture Manufacturers Association’, that 35 years hence Crufts would be sponsored by…

You get the picture, obviously.

I can’t couch it better than that.



Two CID were sent to investigate a burglary that had taken place at a bungalow belonging to an elderly man.  When they arrived, a German shepherd dog lay across the front door.  One of the officers raised his arm to ring the doorbell and the dog raised his lip in an angry snarl.  The policeman retreated and waited anxiously until someone answered the bell. 

Two CID were sent to investigate a burglary that had taken place at a bungalow belonging to an elderly man.  When they arrived, a German shepherd dog lay across the front door.  One of the officers raised his arm to ring the doorbell and the dog raised his lip in an angry snarl.  The policeman retreated and waited anxiously until someone answered the bell. 

At last the old man opened the front door and having inspected the policemen’s identity cards, invited them in.  The dog lazily followed the men into the sitting room and flopped down on a rug in front of the fire.  The interview with the old man was running smoothly until the dog started to get restless.  It sniffed and circled a few times before crouching to leave a large deposit in the middle of the carpet.

“He shouldn’t have done that, should he?” said the officer in charge.

“No, he shouldn’t!” replied the elderly man.

The rest of the questioning was carried out in record time as the two CID were keen to get away from the pungent smell, which was now permeating the room.  Notebooks were snapped shut and the policemen begged their leave, promising to be in touch in the near future.  As they were climbing into their car to depart, the elderly gentleman shouted after them, “Hey! You’ve forgotten your dog!”

“It’s not ours.” Said an officer.

“Well, it’s not mine, either.” Said the old man.
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