Dog ban issued after puppy gets drunk

A British court has barred a man from having a dog for three years after his Labrador puppy was discovered drunk.
Matthew Cox had been drinking vodka and coke with his roommate on August 22 when he left his glass on the floor to go for a smoke.
He returned to find that his six-month-old dog, Max, had swallowed the booze.
But he left the animal at home, and prosecutor Maria Moore told Nottingham Magistrate's Court in central England that the puppy was later spotted staggering and falling over near Cox's home.
Police were called and took the dog to an emergency vet, where it was put on a drip to flush the alcohol out of its system.
Magistrate J A Smith called the incident "downright stupid".
The puppy has since been given a new home.

This begs the question; How on earth does a puppy develop the taste for an alcoholic beverage?

Mind you, having asked that, I have noticed over the years, some of my mates have had dogs which have had a tendency to consume all manner of matter (organic or not), at quite an express speed.

Juxtapositioning the thoughts of a Cat and Dog

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary




8:00 am - Dog food! My favourite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favourite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favourite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favourite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favourite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favourite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favourite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favourite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favourite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favourite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favourite thing!



Excerpts from a Cat's Diary






Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed
hash or some sort of dry nuggets.

Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I
nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt
to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their
feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts,
since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they
merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I
am. Irritant Scum.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was
placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.
However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that
my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.'
I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking.

I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges.
He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return.
He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with
the guards regularly.
I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged
protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe ... for
now.........