Sexy Dog Stories

Sexy Dog Stories

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I would love to say that a dog is a man’s friend, but then that is too mainstream. Because, dogs are, in fact, a lot more than just best friends. They are tiny souls, much more affectionate than you and I have ever been or will ever be to our best friends or mankind at large. And if there were a job where you could change word meanings in dictionaries, I would take it up only to swap the meaning of ‘dog’ from a ‘domesticated carnivorous mammal’ to a ‘selfless angel, who gives away his/her life expecting nothing in return but ample amount of love.’
And these heart-warming stories of dogs from around the world completely justify that they are nothing but devoted and selfless fellow-members. Following are some of the dogs documented for having stayed faithful to their masters even after their death.
His master was suicidal, and under the influence of alcohol had fallen asleep on the railway track in the city of Karaganda in Kazakhstan. The dog, sensing the severity of the danger, put in his best efforts to get the man off the track. He pushed, pulled, nudged, and did all that he could if he were a super dog. And yes, he was. Because in his efforts, he was successful. But the timing was a bitch. The train driver saw the dog on the track and applied the emergency break. Even so, his hind paws got under the wheel, and he died, right on the spot, as one of the world’s most selfless being to have ever lived.
The death of a Miguel Guzmán of Argentina in 2006 evidently hit his loyal dog the most. On learning about his master’s death, Capitán ran away from his home. And when the rest of the family started to search for the dog, they were startled to see Capitán guarding the grave of Guzmán. He had located the cemetery on his own! And as of 2015, Capitán continues to stay by his master’s side.
This Italian street dog garnered wide public attention for his demonstration of unwavering devotion and loyalty for his deceased master. On December 30, 1943, during the Second World War, Borgo San Lorenzo was subjected to a violent air raid. The same evening, Fido, as usual, went to the bus-stop awaiting his master’s arrival from work. On not spotting the master get off the bus, Fido went back home disheartened. But, his hopes did not die out because from that day on, he visited the bus-stop every day for 14 years hoping to see the man he had been missing terribly. In the 14th year, on June 9, 1958, Fido died at the bus-stop while still waiting for his master.
Sharing a story somewhat similar to that of Fido, Hachikō was the name of one of the most faithful dogs to have ever lived. It was a daily routine of Hachikō to greet his master nearby Shibuya station. One tragic day, though, Hachikō’s master died of cerebral haemorrhage, thus never making it back to Shibuya station. Hachikō however, continued to show up at the station for next 9 years, 9 months, and 15 days, apparently at precisely right time when the train, which his master used to get off from, was due to arrive at the station. The initial reaction of the commuters and the workers at the station towards Hachikō was not very friendly, but following the publication of an article on him in Japan’s national newspaper, Asahi Shimbun on October 4, 1932, people started showing concern for the dog. They started feeding him to keep him nourished.
On March 8, 1935, Hachiko was spotted dead on a Shibuya street. And the cause of his death was diagnosed to be terminal cancer and a filaria infection.
Waghya was deeply shaken up because of the death of his master, Chatrapati Shivaji. So much so, that he jumped into the funeral pyre, thus immolating himself, and becoming the symbol of purity and loyalty in India. There is also a statue of Waghya erected beside Shivaji’s tomb at Raigad Fort in Maharashtra. Although, we are not sure whether this story was of an actual dog or a fictional dog.
Tommy used to visit Santa Maria Assunta church in Italy with his owner, Margherita Lochi. After Margherita passed away, Tommy followed her coffin and was present at her funeral. From then on, Tommy regularly made visits to the church and sat by the altar, silently. In the appreciation of the loyal dog, the father of the church was once quoted as saying, “he waits patiently by the side of the altar and just sits there quietly. I didn’t have the heart to throw him out—I’ve just recently lost my own dog, so I leave him there until Mass finishes and then I let him out.” After battling an illness, Tommy died on January 20, 2014.
Bernardo Leónidas Quirós died in a snow storm in Argentina and his dog Talero took the charge of keeping his owner protected for days after he passed away. According to a Chilean online newspaper El Patagonico, Talero even seems to have warded off wild animals from attacking his deceased master, and for his own survival in the snow, he hunted small animals. In the cooler nights, he slept beside his master, with the intention of keeping him warm and sheltered from the harsh winds. And when police approached to rescue the body, he barked in frantic as if sensing danger for his master or, asking the authority to leave him alone with his master. A feeling that he himself knew best
Bobbie was accidentally separated from his family, while they were on a road trip in Indiana, in the year 1923. After carrying out an extensive and exhaustive search for their beloved dog, the family reached their home in Oregon, disappointed and sad.
6 months later, Bobbie appeared. He was there at the doorstep of his family home, gotten all scrawny and bony from the long walk that he set all the way from Indiana to his home in Oregon. On his journey back, he precisely scaled a distance of 4, 105 km, crossing through all the physical hurdles of mountains, deserts, and plains falling in between. On an average, Bobbie must have travelled about 23 km each day.
Baekgu’s owner, battling tight economic condition, sold him to his new owner, who stayed 300 km away. But nothing was strong or hard enough for Baekgu to let go off his previous owner, so he travelled back and reached home after travelling the distance for 7 months.
These amazing dogs in the history of world show that pure love needs no definition. They do so much for us, feel so much for us, and some of us still continue to reward them with flying stones.

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A few years ago I spent a month in a cabin in Montana, my dog Curly as my only companion. The cabin was owned by former first daughter Amy Carter, who had grown up awkwardly before our nation’s eyes. It was a very cold winter.
In the mornings I would get up with the sound of woodpeckers at work. There were pines everywhere around the cabin, and beyond the pines, there was a lake to the east. I could sit on my deck in the mornings and see the lake through the trees’ straight trunks.
Amy had told me that once a week, there would be a man who would come to deliver wood. She told me that he was a very striking looking man.
That first Sunday, I retrieved the newspaper and began reading an article about whaling. It seems that Japan has wanted for some time to resume its practice of hunting whales. They want to take 150 Bryde’s whales a year between 2004 and 2008, and 150 minke whales this year. Japan was clearly concerned about the whales. What did they know that we didn’t, I wondered.
It was a very interesting article, and I looked forward to reading it all.
Just then I heard the rhythmic ripping sound of someone walking through the snow. I looked out my clouded window and saw a man. I guessed him to be the man who would bring the wood, and about his appearance Amy seemed to be correct. He was about 6’3", with a long mane of dirty blond hair. His hair was very, very dirty. His jaw was sculpted and he wore a thick mustache. Behind him, he pulled a sled full of wood. Curly woofed quietly, but I shushed him.
The man did not know I was watching him. He began to unload the wood, stacking it neatly against the cabin, and he soon became warm enough to take off his jacket. Now wearing only a tight black tank-top, I noticed his chiseled muscles and his very smooth skin.
To use the word ‘adonis’ in a sentence here would not be inappropriate.
I went back to reading my article about the Japanese pleas for whaling. They had convened an international conference of some sort to determine whether Japan and other pro-whaling nations, such as Norway, should be allowed to kill whales. These pro-whaling nations claimed they could do so in sustainable numbers, while most of the rest in the international community insisted that there was not enough science to know whether or not sustainable whaling was possible.
I looked up and saw the wood-man bare-chested. Apparently, he had been working so hard that his shirt was now a nuisance. His naked chest was strong and smooth, covered in a glistening sheen of perspiration. He was hairless and his skin was colored a light shade of cherry. Cherry is a kind of wood.
I moved my gaze from his torso to his face and realized he was looking at me. First he looked into my eyes, then scanned my body. It was at that moment that I remembered I was nude. I sleep in the nude now that my husband Mark has disappeared with that woman from the laundry room.
Before I could protest, the wood-man was inside the house. He was a huge man and closed the door. It seemed that he wanted something from me, but who could guess what that thing was? He wore only his work boots and very snug denim trousers. They appeared to be getting more snug as the seconds passed. I stood before him, unclothed and unmoving. Because the window was behind me, he could have seen only a silhouette. He stepped toward me and I saw him more clearly.
He was a powerful man, virile, a man who would take what he wanted, without being cruel. I looked up and down his beautiful torso, drinking in his smooth hard chest, his arms like bent pipes, his flat, perfectly defined stomach, the few strands of hair below his navel, disappearing into his jeans, which hid a growth of a very distinct shape. My eyes caressed this part of him lovingly, afraid, but intrigued by its size and apparent power, and then my gaze swung to the right, where, just behind him, I had left my newspaper. I had almost forgotten all about it.
I brushed past the wood-man and took it into my hands and touched it. I refound my place. The problem with whales in general, apparently, is that it’s hard to know precisely how many whales of any species actually exist. Worse, many killings of whales — accidental or not, by fishing vessels or other watercraft — are not reported.
Now the wood-man was behind me, breathing on my back. I heard myself sigh. I guess I really sympathized with the Japanese and the Norwegians, in that there are indeed animals and plants that need to be harvested, lest they take over the world and rule over humans, making us do their bidding.
If minke or Bryde’s whales attempted to lord over me, I would start an underground movement aimed at stopping them. We would wear organic-looking clothing and would live in a bunker built from scrap metal. Amy Carter would be there, as would the daughters of Jesse Jackson. We would breed with the sons of Gil Gerard. Our children would run around, filthy, because we would know that the battle against the whales would take many generations.
Those fucking whales! I would say to the assembled rebels. I would be the leader of the rebels. Yeah, fucking minke fascists! they would yell. We would all raise our harpoons and do some kind of chant I would invent. All the chants would have to go through me to make sure they were good chants. I hate stupid chants.
You ask me how the whales would rule over people if they live in the ocean and do not have thumbs. I shake my head and say, This is how it starts, humans. This is how it starts.
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