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The lamentable Jagr! dog story.

Huaco Kid

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Jagr was a great Boxer-dog.

His wiggle-built-in was.  Was built in.

He was a psycho-jag.  And we didn't want to take it from him.

He was a firecracker,  because he was always lit.

He was always going off.

Everyone liked that part of him.

He was not normal.

Even as dogs go.



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He once,  in the backyard,  we were just smoking, or something,  went berserk,  which he was usually want to do, clawed through the fence,   started growling and fighting a lot.

And came came back with a kitten in his mouth.

Not really sure why there needed a Jagr-fight for a kitten.  But there it was.  He was "Chocolate".

Had him for a long time.

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A later story:

We moved to a new house,  where Jagr had a big, free, yard, and he  loved it.

We were watching TV,  and Jagr, casually,  strolled into the middle off the room, and hucked-hucked-hucked this dead-meat-ball of god-knows-what.  Then he went to the corner and took a nap.

Now there's a fetid pile of steaming dead meat, right in front of the tv now

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Now there's a big steaming pile of barf-goo in the middle of the house.

Jagr don't care.

I opened the back door, and the front door, which has never been opened, because the old woods came right up.

I cut up a milk-jug into a scoop.

I ran one way, scooped guts,  barfing.  (this **** was actually boiling) dumped them, ran back, scoop, barfing,    dumped it i the yard.

In one scoop, I saw rabbit ears.

Yes.  It was 100% possible that Jagr could actually  could catch a rabbit.  This ****** could go.

We didn't know he'd barf one in the living room.

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He loved it, and was wicked-fast.

When he got bored,   while we were drunk and hanging around,  he come and put it on your knee.

If you think you could grab it off your knee,  before he got it,  you're wrong.

Fckr dancing and boxer-dog-smiling all over.  It's his game now.

You only throw the frisbee once.  You'll never touch it again.  Go ahead, chase him, he's faster than a missle.

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With his ass taped with a lot of duct tape,  and he had suitcase handle on his ass.

They said he could only live in a cage,  with a ductape, handle on his ass,  and carry him around the back yard, so he could poo, several times each day, for the rest of his life.

OK.  We're in

(I don't know if this was before, or after,  the snow-maggon Jagr!", thing)

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His back legs came back,  in a draggy way,  and he poo'd in the yard.

Then started dragging himself all over.

He actually dragged around,  like Oliver Twist,  with a happy temperament.  Poor Jagr.

Two weeks later,  he was running around the house,  begging food.

The Vet college said, "This ain't right"

So we donated him for studies,  and they did whatever.  They said it was a magnificent success,  because his spine was all crushed up.

And then he barfed rabbits on the floor.

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The first time, way after crash, I found him in the back seat, at -20

Poor Jagr.  I'm a really  bad owner,  Cause I left him out all night.

Then he did it again.

Then I saw him,  from the kitchen window, do it.

He could ope\n the car with his mouth.

Because it sucks to have a master like me.

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