"Marley & Me", the touching and often hilarious book about the "World's Worst Dog" has been at the top of the New York Times and Publishers Weekly best-seller list since early this year.

Written by Philadelphia Inquirer columnist John Grogan, the tale about his insufferable yellow Labrador retriever has struck a chord among dog lovers -- and nonlovers -- everywhere.

We invited readers to send us their favorite dog stories and photos. Here are the responses:

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Who eats rocks? The Shadow knows

I have tons of worst dog stories with my lovable black lab named Shadow, who is 5 years old, but I still love him. When he was not even a year old he ate a white landscaping stone which got stuck inside of him, which we did not know about for a day or so, when he was very lethargic and just lying around. Called the vet, who said to bring him up; they took an X-ray, and sure enough, there sat the rock. They sent him home with us and told us to keep an eye on him and bring him back in the morning to have surgery to remove it.

He was just plan miserable all night long, and neither one of us got much sleep. We kept a eye on him, and in the morning he wanted to go out, so we watched him to make sure he did not pass the rock, and we turned our backs on him for one minute and he backed his butt up into the tomato plants and pooped. So, not realizing this, we take him to the vet's for the surgery, which they performed, still thinking the rock was there. About 3 hours later we get a phone call from the vet, who said the surgery was over and he was doing fine, but they could not find the rock!! We go out into the back yard looking for it, and that is when we see where he pooped -- in a place where he never went before. But the kicker here is we had to pay close to a grand for the surgery that he did not even need. You would have thought the vet would have taken another X-ray! Needless to say we no longer go to that vet.

The dog has eaten tons of shoes, slippers, hair ties, a couple cell phones and eyeglasses, not to mention a couch and a couple of comforters.

-- Susan Roe, Pittsburgh

Everyone else had turkey, why not Tramp?

My wife and I are the proud parents of "Tramp," a one year old Border Collie. Tramp, as with other Border Collies, is a high-energy, high-functioning dog who needs constant exercise, attention, and stimulation. There is rarely a moment in our home when Tramp is out of sight or out of earshot. We experienced one of those moments at Thanksgiving last year when we hosted my wife's family at our new home.

We intentionally bought a turkey bigger than we needed because we love having leftovers for weeks after the holiday. Upon finishing our meal, we cleared the table and made our way to the living room for coffee, football, and conversation. After about 20 minutes my wife turned to me and said "Where's Tramp?" which is an unusual question in our home, given his personality and demeanor. Everyone sat quietly for a moment while I called his name. Nothing. This was very strange. I walked down the hallway and entered the kitchen to find Tramp with his paws on the counter absolutely ravaging the large turkey platter that had been placed there after dinner. Although he is barely tall enough on his hind legs to reach the counter with his paws, he managed (we still have no idea how) to pull the large serving platter of turkey from the center of the counter, which we thought was well out of reach, over to the edge and had, at that point, cleaned at least a third of the leftover turkey off of the tray.

"TRAMP!" I yelled, catching him completely off guard. He immediately dropped to the floor with his ears down and didn't move a muscle. When I saw his face I could barely contain my laughter. His cheeks were absolutely stuffed with turkey. I scolded him and when I told him to "drop it" he opened his mouth and out plopped a wad of Thanksgiving turkey the size of a softball. After looking at what remained on the platter we concluded that he must have eaten 4 pounds of turkey in a matter of minutes. He got yelled at pretty good, but we're convinced that he didn't care. If he could talk, we're sure he'd have been smirking in his crate afterwards, muttering to himself "that was SO worth it."

-- Joe Mull, Brentwood

The whole loaf and nothing but the loaf ...

Some dogs love bones. Some dogs love meat.

My golden retriever? She'll take bread.

Whole wheat, white, bagels, English muffins -- it doesn't matter, Zia will virtually do back-flips for it.

When the back screen door is open, and she makes a break for the wide open spaces of the neighborhood, no sweat: All we have to do is yell, "Zia! Bread!" and suddenly freedom doesn't look so hot. She'll perk up her ears, cock her head and high-tail it back inside, tongue a'flappin'.

No dog responds to "Sit!" faster, when bread is hung above her nose.

What a good dog.

About two years ago, when her bread addiction was becoming evident, my daughter Jayne happened to be taking pictures when Zia and a loaf of luscious white bread, sitting on the kitchen counter, met up. The result was a family-favorite photo.

We like it almost as much as Zia likes Wonder.

-- Margi Shrum, Post-Gazette

Ruby the wannabe fisherman

We've raised four boxers over the past twenty years. After the first two, Bridgette and Penelope Lane, I swore no more puppies. Yet the third and "worst dog" of the lot was RUBY TOOSDAY, who we rescued from becoming a trained "dog-fighter" in Aliquippa. Had to do it.

At four months, Ruby played chase in the house with our three children. One evening, while Mom was out, I needed to run to the corner store, which would take no more than a few minutes, asking the children not to let Ruby out of their site while I was gone. I returned only to find a very large newly potted palm tree, dirt and all, spread across our brand new WHITE carpet. The kids, fearing for the dog, tried to take the rap for the pup, but no time to blame, Mom was due home soon.

I enjoyed my riding lawn tractor, waiving to neighbors as I drank a beverage -- what a way to cut grass, I thought. As I boarded the tractor one hot afternoon, the key was missing from the ignition. Naturally, I blamed everyone, except the real culprit. After watching me push-mow the lawn for the next two months, Ruby finally dug up and returned the teeth-marked key which she had taken from the ignition and buried earlier that summer.

Neither dog repellent, pepper, nor hot sauce placed about the plants, deterred Ruby from destroying almost $1000 in new landscaping. Sorry to say, I got my retribution by installing an invisible fence. As Ruby tested the fence, she did not run through or retreat, but rather took-off five feet straight up into the air. Picture a cat climbing an invisible tree. Needless to say, I smiled, and Ruby preferred the front porch from there on.

During a weekend fishing trip to the Pennsylvania Mountains, Ruby strayed away and came upon a nest of bees in the ground. Bees swarmed everywhere. It was all I could do to swat them away with her leash, batting her as well, as she yipped. We removed at least a dozen bees and stingers from her that day. Yet the vacation was not over, and Ruby took out her retribution upon the family; for she decided not to poop the entire time we were there, which made for a not so enjoyable four hour return ride home. A gaseous odor was released in the car every five minutes. We didn't know which to; hang our own heads out the window or Ruby's butt.

When our family moved to Bradenton, Florida, Ruby sat in the front seat with me during the drive from Pittsburgh. We developed an even closer bond while picnicking on burgers and fries in McDonald's parking lots during rest stops.

Once in Florida, while walking Ruby around a lake preserve, my son Jonathan and I heard a great "whoosh and splash". We looked as an alligator surfaced only a few feet from us. Even Ruby remained paralyzed for a moment, before we got out in a hurry. We later learned that gators love to eat dogs. So, if ever you need to have a heart to heart talk with your dog who won't obey -- I suggest a walk about a Florida swamp.

But the worst dog incident of all was the day my sons Curtis and Jonathan frantically phoned me at work. I guess Ruby wanted to see what it was like to be fish bait, as she managed to lodge a multi-barbed fish hook up inside her nose. A $250 vet bill followed, and I keep the fish hook attached to her picture.

Ruby is gone now, and our fourth boxer puppy, Layla, who we rescued from an abusive home, now sleeps with us. Had to do it again.

-- Ronald Shively, Bradenton, Fla. (formerly of Pittsburgh)

A big help with putting the food away

When my sons were growing up, we had one great Dane that lived through all of their growing years.

He loved Snickers bars, chocolate, and ate an entire chocolate birthday cake in about 2 minutes flat.

The freezer was on the bottom of the refrigerator, and after his emptying the freezer a few times, we put bungee cords around it! Across it! Over it!

We did not have a microwave. So I would prepare supper before baseball practice and games, almost every night in the summer. Turn the oven on warm, and we would eat when the games were over. At least, some nights we had something to eat.

Lebony, a black, would put his paws on top of the stove and pull the oven door open, if he liked what was in there. It was hilarious one day when I saw how he was opening the oven door. I was home, sick, and he must have forgotten that I was home. Boy did he have a look on his face when I spoke to him while he was eating the contents of the leftover pan. He did the same thing the next summer.

And he could pull the wrapper off of the Snickers bars! Or any chocolate bar that tickled his fancy. Don't tell me chocolate makes dogs sick. That great Dane lived to be 12 years old!

I have other dogs now, 2 mixed breeds, that give us much pleasure with their antics, and a 2 1/2-year-old golden. He is amusing as hell.

The one mixed breed was adopted from the shelter when she was a pup by the neighbors. When she was about a year old, she decided she wanted to live with me! She would be in our back yard when I got home from work.

We have a chain-link fence that she would crawl under. Neighbors could not keep her home! We have had her now for about 7 years! She is our protector. She chases helicopters that use her air space to land in the park for emergency rescues. She barks at people walking on "her" road.

While we were in Canada this year, she treed a raccoon. At least we think it was a raccoon. Something she was growling at in the woods next to our cabin while she was chained one night. When I took her into the house and came back out to get the other two off of the chains, we heard a loud, big plop and skittering in the woods.

My son and his wife and their neighbor in the next cabin heard it and asked what the heck it was. Don't know, but Roxey had it treed. All 62 lbs of her! We never had a problem with coons or anything else the rest of the time we were there. She is something.

-- Betty Emery, Monaca

Lost and found: Ava knew her way home

Living only a short walking distance away from Frick Park, my dog Ava and I spend endless hours socializing with friends, walking the trails and enjoying all the beautiful nature it shares with us during every season.

After recuperating from ACL surgery, Ava has since calmed down a bit and has become a more obedient friend. However, during her younger days she was very high spirited and took advantage of enjoying the park on her own whenever she could!

One time, a feisty squirrel caught her eye and off she went chasing after it. I tried to keep up with the pursuit, but Ava and I became separated and I spent a good while searching the park, calling her name and asking everyone if they saw her, but to no luck.

Visibly upset, I rushed home thinking Ava was lost, I had to find her and of course no one was answering the phone! As I ran up the alley, my dad greeted me asking what was wrong. I told him that Ava ran off at the park and we had to find her. With a confused look on his face, he said, "Ava is home. I heard her barking at the back door so I let her inside the house half an hour ago!"

I ran inside the house and there she was, very happy to see me, with a look on her face like "what took you so long finding your way home???!!!"

-- Michelle and Ava, Regent Square

Clifford -- the other big red dog

Hi: I am Clifford the big red dog and I am bad to the bone!! I relocated to Economy Borough just about a year ago after I was released from the golden retriever rescue. I went from a kennel to a country club where I now live the good life because my Mommy & Daddy put in a swimming pool just for me.

I love to swim and dive into the pool, splashing myself and barking the entire time I swim. I've been known to swim sometimes 6-8 hours a day on weekends. If Mom & Dad put me in the house -- I bark, if they tie me up -- I bark, if they let me swim -- I bark, I have to keep them on their toes. I dive-bomb anyone in the pool or in my way.

I have been to several animal behaviorists and was told to get a job. I'm a dog, what do I know about work? Needless to say, my new job title is "chauffeur" which entails pulling the floating lounge chair around the pool with or without Mom or Dad, many times in circles, they both have vertigo now but what the heck! When bed time rolls around I sleep in my favorite place. ... The bath tub. I scratched some significant holes trying to find the most comfortable spot which are now patched with glue.

I like to steal everything I see, including but not limited to TV remotes, reading glasses, shoes, socks, bread (I can down loaf of bread and the bag in 1 minute flat while running 2 laps around the house), but my favorite is cat treats!

Sometimes I think my cat, Edward, sets me up but I fall for it every time. Every now and then I challenge my sister Lucy (a Chesapeake Bay retriever) to a romping match. We get into all kinds of trouble picking tennis balls out of the garden (green tomatoes) which are actually quite tasty.

When Mommy finally got a new TV remote (after I ate the last one) she called the cable guy to reprogram the remote while I shredded a roll of paper towels. It was actually quite funny to watch Mommy trying to talk sensibly to the cable guy while I was running around tearing up the joint. I could go on but it's time to take a swim!!

Best Wishes,

-- Clifford (in Economy)

The chocolate lab that became a blonde

Our chocolate labrador retriever, Tasha, was a normal lab -- beautiful, good-natured and a chewer. Among many other things, she chewed up the kitchen baseboards and one day I caught her gnawing the paint off a door!

Her most notorious exploit happened one Valentine's Day several years ago when I decided to surprise my family with two pounds of Godiva chocolate truffles. I hid the chocolates in my bedroom closet and we went out to dinner. When we returned, there were gold foil wrappers all over the house and one guilty looking dog. She had eaten every scrap of the chocolates.

Since I'd heard that chocolate can be harmful to dogs, I immediately called the emergency vet clinic. They said the chocolate wouldn't kill her, but either she would have diarhhea for days or we could induce her to bring it back up by forcing her to ingest peroxide.

Neither alternative was very appealing, but we chose the latter. So, on a lovely (and fortunately warm) Valentine's Day evening, my husband and I took Tasha outside with a bottle of peroxide and a turkey baster.

Not surprisingly, Tasha didn't care much for this treatment and got as much on her as inside her. But it worked, eventually, and she was none the worse for wear.

The only side effect of her peroxide "bath" was that our chocolate lab turned blonde! And I learned to find better hiding places for anything edible!

-- Amy Klodowski, Valencia

Sixty pounds of lovable mischief

I am the proud owner of a pit bull terrier named "Maximus".

Don't let the name fool you.

While when you think of the name Maximus you think of that gladiator movie where Russell Crowe was the ultimate warrior and the most courageous. Well it just so happens that not every name fits an animal.

My dog Maximus is so gentle that I think if someone robbed us, he would show them where everything is in an unsuspecting manner. He barks alright to give you a good scare, but when you enter, he is all hugs and kisses.

I think Maximus was born to eat and eat only. He has gone through plenty of shoes, socks, underwear (oh yes, underwear), and plenty of other things.

I think the most memorable thing he ate of my husband's was his 100% pure Shea butter with not a drop left in the canister. He has chewed through a mattress, the carpet under the kids bed, plenty of bratz dolls and has made my daughters favorite Ken doll a parapalegic (Of course she tied up his limbs afterwards like a doctor would do).

He does everything that he can to antagonize the girls.

Plenty of times I have had to go into the room and rescue them. He is like a younger brother who always has to tease. he grabs there toys and runs through the house as if saying catch me if you can.

My most memorable moment with him was when he stole (yes stole he is a very articulate garbage thief) old chicken out of the garbage and he comes over to me with this little cuddly look like he always does like he had done nothing and, of course, I didn't cathch or I would scold him and put him in the corner (Yes he has timeout and he does stay there but with as much as he hates it you would think he would stop with all the craziness).

I started to pet my favorite furry child and he put his head down in an approving manner so I thought. My daughter just happened to be sitting next to him on the floor when he began to regurgitate all that didn't agree with his stomach and I was still unsuspecting thinking that he was just there to show me all the love in the world.

I didn't know why my daughter was running away and I even began to panick and run myself when it happened. Maximus had thrown up all over my feet.

Anyone who knows me knows I can't stand the sight of throw up. I had to skip all the way to the bathroom with the nose and eyes closed shut. If I hadn't there would have been a chain reaction.

When my husband first brought the dog home I wasn't happy at all.

All I thought was how in the world are we going to find time for a dog and two kids with one on the way?

Now, I have grown to love that dog like he is one of my own.

He still does a lot of things that bother me like pees in the bathtub and drinks toilet water (I know, all dogs do).

When he first arrived he was just wee little thing about 10 pounds. Now he is a wopping 60 pounds and still growing being that he still under a year.

With all the mischief he causes I wouldn't trade him for the world.

-- DLH, West Mifflin

While the owners were away, Tinsley played

My husband and I adopted a beagle/daschund/lab mix dog at an animal shelter back in May. His name is Tinsley.

We had to go out of town to attend a friend's wedding shortly after adopting him. My in-laws agreed to watch Tinsley while we were away. My in-laws have a dog of their own, Patrick.

One morning when my father-in-law was taking Patrick out into the yard, Tinsley escaped from the garage, headed down the driveway and was out of sight. My father-in-law proceeded to search for Tinsley by driving through their neighborhood. After a while of searching, my father-in-law feared the worst and ventured out on to Route 819 in Greensburg to see if he could see any sign of Tinsley.

As he was rounding a bend, he noticed a dump truck and a line of cars driving very slowly. At the lead of the parade of cars was Tinsley running up the middle of Route 819, tongue-wagging, happy as could be. My father-in-law tried to turn around and catch our little escape artist, but had no success. Panicked, my father-in-law searched all day for Tinsley. He made signs, drove through numerous neighborhoods in Greensburg, and called every animal shelter in Westmoreland County.

Finally, the following morning, the Humane Society in Greensburg called with good news -- Tinsley was found sleeping on the porch of a woman not far from my in-law's house. She brought the dog to the Humane Society.

The entire time this saga was unfolding, my husband and I were enjoying ourselves in North Carolina and had no idea what was happening back home. My in-laws kept it a secret from us because they didn't want us to worry and cut our trip short. Needless to say, everything was fine. He was returned without a scratch on him. My husband and I do not know the name of the woman who found our dog, but I wanted to thank you for not chasing him away from your porch.

You do not know how much it means to us, especially my father-in-law who blamed himself for the whole thing.

One final note about our escape artist. When we filled out the paperwork for his dog license, we officially chose the name Tinsley Houdini Rhodes because it is still a mystery how he survived his big adventure.

-- Amy Rhodes, Swissvale

The dog named Bear that used the fire extinguisher ... for fun

In 2002 I adopted a chocolate lab named Bear from the Retriever Rescue Organization. To say that Bear had a severe case of separation anxiety is an understatement. One day I came home from work to discover that he had managed to rip the fire extinguisher off the pantry wall, pull the safety pin out, press both handles, and detonate all of the contents. There was foam hanging from the ceiling fan, the drapes, and all over the floor. It looked a giant rave party had taken place in my house. And instead of looking contrite, there stood Bear looking like a 100 pounds of rabid canine with foam surrounding his whole snout, prancing around like he couldn't have been prouder of himself. I wish I had a Web cam that had captured the moment because I'm certain that the footage would've won me some kind of video contest. To this day one of my friends thinks he was actually doing me a favor by putting out an actual fire. I'm of the opinion that he has retractable opposable thumbs.

-- Erin, originally from Upper St. Clair

Separated at birth and a 100-lb. lap dog

Let's just say that Marley has a twin named Jax. A yellow Lab mix who I adopted from the Humane Society for my husband. For what ever reason, I was drawn to the one who appeared to be on speed. Perhaps my inner spirit felt, if I didn't take him no one would.

It is nearly impossible to pinpoint just one incident in my three years with Jax, but I have one that still makes me wonder if it is the dogs who really aren't just laughing at us.

Like all good puppy parents, we started Jax out in obedience classes. We lasted three weeks. He picked up sit, stay, lay ... in seconds while the other pups in the class ran around like a Chinese fire drill. Oh, but there was one command Jax was never going to give into -- "come Jax." I believe his retrieving wires were crossed at birth. So we improvise, by bribing Jax back in the house from play time with his favorite treat -- Kraft Singles (he comes when he hears the wrapper). But it's not always that easy.

See this is a dog that could take food or leave it depending on what he feels that day (sometimes I think Jax was a woman in a former life. His moods can change with the wind.) And he proved this one night, which was the last time Jax was allowed out leashless to pee past 6 p.m. The night Jax decided to have a standoff.

As he stood far out in our yard the look in his eyes screamed, I dare you to catch me. After a two-hour standoff, bribing him with everything down to the condiments in our fridge and running around the yard like we actually had a chance of catching him (I swear he is part Gazelle), we decided to devise a plan. We were going to outsmart Jax. Yes, my husband and I sat at the table like two agents and came up with the plan that was our crowning moment of foolishness.

We placed pieces of meat in the far corner of our deck, and decided that my very tall husband would open the kitchen window and slide out far enough to reach the gate door and throw it shut when Jax wasn't looking. An hour, four tries later and some bruising our plan was successful! Of course Jax looked at us as though he was saying he was just ready to come in. Jax's cleverness continues to advance, and we continue to be pawns in his games, but they are always a good laugh.

Even better, we decided to to try our dog parenting skills with a brother for Jax. Over a year ago we adopted Max (already named), a 100 lb. lap dog that was so neglected that he needs your love 24-7. So don't make eye contact unless you want a four-hour petting session. But Max does come on command. Well, he doesn't really know the command, he just wants to be near you, but that counts in my eyes. Call us crazy, but even the imperfect pets need a loving home.

-- Shellyn Shoenthal, Allison Park

A leaping basset hound

Riley is a basset hound. He is now around 7 years old and has mellowed somewhat with age, but a few years ago, he pulled off some amazing stunts. Keep in mind -- he is a basset hound with a low center of gravity.

Well, I came home from work one day to find him napping in the middle of my dining room table, all curled up on the damask tablecloth, which of course was balled up under him for cushioning. He seemed surprised to see me, and patiently waited for me to pick him up and place him on the floor, after I finished yelling at him. Mind you, this is a dog with full furniture privileges, and I am lucky to get a seat on the couch at night. The appeal of the dining room table top for a napping place was lost on me. Nevertheless, I figured it to be an isolated event.

Wrong! The next day, I came home from work, and this time, Riley was standing in the middle of the table, on top of the balled up tablecloth (covered with hair and drool), wagging his tail. Once again, I did a lot of yelling and he was placed on the floor. I then moved all of the chairs away from the table, because short of a miracle, there was no way Riley could get on that table without using a chair as a step stool. Low center of gravity, right?

Wrong again! The next day when I came home, the beast was on the table again, happy as can be. I could not figure out how he got up there, until I found the paw prints on top of the buffet. Apparently, he used a chair to get up onto the buffet, then he jumped across!

That night, I went out and bought a baby gate.

For several months, my dining room table was basset free. Then, one day when I came home, Riley greeted me at the front door, but I immediately saw that the damask tablecloth was all scrunched up on top of the table, with some dog hair and drool thrown in as extra bonus clues. I live in a co-op building, so I thought maybe the building super was in my unit checking the smoke detectors, and Riley got into the dining room when the super was there.

Next day, I came home, same thing. So, I called the super to see why he was in my unit two days in a row, and he told me he had not been in my unit in several months!

The following night when I came home, instead of unlocking the baby gate to go into the dining room and kitchen, I stepped over it, leaving Riley on the opposite side, and I went into the kitchen and made lots of dinner related noises. I heard some rattling and a big thump, then the click click of basset nails on the kitchen floor, and turned around to see Riley sitting behind me, wagging his tail. No sooner did I start to yell BAD DOG when he hightailed it out of the kitchen and ran for the baby gate. I followed him, and watched him jump up and vault over the gate using his front paws as leverage, just like you see in the Olympics! It was an amazing sight.

Now, Riley has unrational fear of many things, so over the next few weeks I tried decorating the top of the baby gate with balloons, Snappy Trainers, tin foil, coat hangers, jingle bells, etc., all to no avail.

So I went back to the pet store and bought a 4 foot tall wire dog pen, and unfolded it and placed it across the dining room entranceway.

For several more months, my dining room table was basset free. Then, one day when I came home, guess who was napping on the table? Apparently, he figured out that if he head butted the dog pen enough, it would move and create a Riley-wide gap next to the wall that he could squeeze through.

The dog pen is now tied securely to the brackets that were left behind from the baby gate. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before he figures out how to untie the knots.

A friend once told me that living with Riley is a chess match. I may be smarter than him, but he has time on his side. Not to mention a single minded focus on getting what he wants!

-- Deb McCormick, Shadyside

The force was with him

I adopted Chewbacca, now a 12lb. maltese/poodle mix, when he was 8 weeks old (about 2 lbs) 4 years ago. I work during the day so I decided to gate Chewie in the kitchen while at work. He was paper trained when I got him so I would just leave some paper in there for him to use along with food, water and a blanket. I think what happened was that Chewie was scared staying at home in the kitchen by himself in those early days; he had been used to all of his brother and sisters running around along with the other dogs that lived at the breeders. He quickly developed separation anxiety and made a huge fuss when I would put him in the kitchen with the gate up.

A few weeks after I adopted him, I came home to find Chewie out of the kitchen with the gate still up. Keep in mind Chewie only weighed about 2 lbs so he was much smaller than the top of the gate. His head did not even come close to the top of the gate when he would stand on his hind legs. How did he escape from the kitchen, you ask? Well, I put him back in the kitchen to see what he would do. Sure enough, he began climbing up the gate! He would stick him little paws in the little holes of the gate and literally climb to the top and over to the other side.

My next idea was to wrap a sheet around the gate so that Chewie would not be able to climb. He sooned learned that he could chew on the sheet and rip holes in it and then climb over. (I few days later I had found him again, outside of the kitchen). I then proceeded to duct tape the gate but he again (a few days later) figured out how to rip off the tape. Next, I bought another gate and put it on top of the original so that the gate(s) was twice as tall, pretty scary height for such a little dog. Chewie was unfazed by this and I found him on the other side of the gates the next day. At this point, I was too worried that he would hurt himself or even hang himself by accident on the gates that I gave up and just let him have the run of the house. Luckily, he was pretty much house trained so it turned out to be a fine solution for both of us but to this day, we still call him Houdini, for he was the best escape artist we have seen.

-- Sarah M. Putaro, Castle Shannon

'Active' = $10,000 in damage!

My husband and I have 3 Boxers. We bought our first Boxer, Benny, after we were only married for 1 and half months. We saw him in the pet store at Ross Park Mall and fell in love at first sight. We knew something was not quite right, he kept running around in circles and banging into the walls. We knew we had to buy him and give him a loving home! We bought him, took him home a few days before Christmas and the FUN began.

Benny was a very active puppy. During his first year with us, he did about $10,000 dollars worth of damage. He completely destroyed our new livingroom furniture and carpeting, he chewed all of our legs on the table and chairs in our kitchen and ate part of the bathroom vanity! He ate batteries, remote controls (multiple) tylenol, shoes ($200 leather shoes and $100 dress pumps), a breast pump, belts, our Wedding ring bearer pillow, and too much else to mention.

We took him to obedience school right away and he dropped out. Yes, he decided to drop out. For the 1/2 hour ride home, he would bark continually, as if he were yelling at us for taking him there. He was always used as the "example dog" at school to show what your dog " should not do" .

Fast forward, Benny is 12 years old now and is living out the rest of his life in sheer paradise! We just had him to the vet and he received a clean bill of health. Over the years he has battled food allergies and cancer but he still going strong ! He sleeps til 10 am, we sometimes have to wake him to eat his breakfast or his buddies ( our other two Boxers, Sasha, 6 and Bruno 2 ) will eat it for him. He spends 20 hours out of 24 sleeping and the other four is spent eating, walking in the backyard, and occasionally playing. Although we had a very rough start with him (about the first 8 years of his life before he finally calmed down),we wouldn't want him any other way. His personality makes him who he is. He was lucky to get us and we were lucky to get him.

He is one good "bad" dog!

-- Michelle Cugliari, Allison Park

Not a bad dog at all

In January of 1997, I was still mourning the death of my 13 year old dog, Winston, when a friend ask me if I would be interested in another dog. This dog was being released from a research laboratory after being there most of her 2-1/2 years. No research had been done on her, but she had never been in a home. I went to look at her, and Sadie, a Treeing Walker Coonhound, came home with me.

Sadie was terrified of the outside world, barometric changes were like earthquakes. The safest place was in my fireplace. Over the next year and a half, Sadie and I worked toward relaxation and house breaking. She was leashed to me when not in her crate, and rewarded for staying by my side. We tried obedience, but the traditional methods shut her down, she would stand in a corner the entire class. Finally we tried clicker and light came into her eyes, she understood that I was marking something that she would be rewarded for doing. Maybe the world would be safe place.

Gradually Sadie gained confidence, she could complete an obedience practice, and do a few freestyle steps. But she could not be off leash, not even in the yard. Sadie was an amazing escape artist! I double fenced my yard, she got out. There were days that I would get Sadie sightings, you could hear her baying for long distances, but not find her for 10 or 12 hours, long days.

One time she got away at my parents house in a small town in West Virginia. Everyone was looking for her, the police, all the kids in the area, me. We didn't find Sadie, she found a family with a red convertible and came home in style, with the top down.

Sadie finally had the run of the house, at least until I got a call at work from a friend who stopped in to check on her. She called to ask "Is Sadie allowed on the table with the cats?" NO! Sadie had taken to sitting on the table looking out the window between the cats. Time for a bit more training.

Despite all Sadie's antics, Sadie managed to become a bit of a star. A photographer friend of mine, Jean Fogel, called me because she needed some picturesof a Walker Hound for the Dog Fancy magazine, Coonhounds. Sadie had her debut doing agility, obedience, tracking and rally. She even signed a few magazines for friends.

The hardest time for Sadie and I came last fall. I noticed that her collar was tight. The next day her head was swollen, by the next day her swollen lips cause her to droll. When we got to the vet that morning I got the heart wrenching news, Sadie had lymphoma and had about two weeks to live without chemotherapy. Two days later we were at a different vet for chemo. She had her first dose and by the time we got home, the swelling had gone down. We had our ups and downs through the treatment, but now, eight months later, Sadie is in remission. She is not as fast as she was, it only took me a block to catch her this weekend, and she had a bout with canine vestibular disease that left her with a head tilt, but she is happy, and loving life. Thanks to my wonderful vets, Dr. Myers, Dr. Oster and Dr. Young, I still get to hear that wonderful bay in the woods when we walk.

-- Maribeth Hook, Pittsburgh

Buster and his 'land mines'

Buster's Humor: Don't tell us animals don't have a sense of humor till you read this one!

One early, early Spring day my husband decided to do some "spring clean up" in our yard after a long cold winter.

We had a beagle, Buster, who we got quite spoiled with during the winter months of just opening the back door and letting him out into the fenced in back yard to do his "business".

Before my husband could even attack the left over leaves and stray branches he decided to take care of the zillion "land mines" deposited over the past few very chilly weeks in our yard by Buster.

Anyone who has a beagle knows how much a beagle enjoys eating thus what goes in one end comes out the other. Need I say more, our yard was quite messy!

We were usually pretty good at keeping our yard cleaned up on a daily basis but this particular winter was extremely harsh and I guess we were caught up in our busy lives. Our usual routine was to grab an old plastic grocery bag and with pooper scooper in hand start shoveling.

Sounds pretty simple! Buster is always helpful overseeing this task. Our yard is fenced in and after the yard is cleaned up we often hang the grocery bag over one of the pickets on the opposite side of the yard till we are ready to wrap it up and head off to the garbage can at the end of our driveway in the front of our house. Well, this particular day hubby headed out to the yard with shovel and bag and after what seemed like a very long time had a grocery bag considerably full of "land mines".

All the while, Buster was overseeing in his usual manner.

Hubby hung the bag over the post like he has seen me and the kids do and took off for just a moment to take a look at something in our side yard.

Did I forget to mention he hung the bag on the inside of the fenced-in yard?

You guessed it, when he turned around there was Buster running around the back yard with an empty blue garbage bag flying around his mouth with all the "land mines" re-deposited through out our back yard. My husband swears Buster had a smile on his face and heard a chuckle!

--Beth Buttgereit, Penn Hills

Teddy and the Twizzlers made not-so-sweet music

Our first family dog was a Brittany spaniel named Teddy. At first, Teddy was a normal, happy dog. But we soon realized that he had very serious separation anxiety. Left alone in the house, he would tear down curtains, chew shoes, rip the bedding off our beds, and bark and howl almost continually.

We tried obedience school. He failed. Eventually, we purchased a metal crate for him. He outsmarted us, and learned how to escape from the crate. So, we outsmarted him, and attached an extra hook closure on the crate. Unable to break out, he would become so agitated that he would attempt to chew through the metal bars!!

After years of crating him, he had literally ground all of his teeth down to nubs. His tongue would loll out of his mouth and shrivel up, with no teeth to keep it in place. Once, he became so disturbed by being alone in the crate, he burst all the blood vessels in his eyes.

But Teddy wasn't just bad when we weren't home. When we were, he would hide under the wing chair in our living room and stare suspiciously at us. He would steal garbage and stealthily hide it under pieces of furniture. When someone in the house got new shoes, Teddy would take possession of their old ones, quietly eating the entire upper portion of the shoe, and then carrying the sole around with him.

My mom, concerned for his well being, had taken him to the vet on numerous occasions to find solutions to his odd and self destructive behavior. More than once, the vet confided that he suspected Teddy had some neurological issues, and was "developmentally challenged".

But our most infamous of all the Teddy moments, happened when he was about 9 years old. Getting ready for a family vacation, my mom had purchased a large bag of licorice. She had it in the shopping bag, up on the counter. The next day, she took Teddy downstairs to give him a bath in the laundry tub, before we took him to the kennel. After his bath, she lifted him to the basement floor to shake. As he stood there shaking the excess water off, my mom noticed bright red liquid dripping from his behind. As he shook, the liquid would come out faster. Immediately fearing that he had eaten something sharp and was now hemorrhaging, my mom followed him through the house as he ran around, shaking and "bleeding" everywhere. Finally, she stopped to examine the "blood". It turns out, Teddy had somehow found the bag of licorice, and it had given him a severe, bright-red case of diarrhea.

Teddy eventually had to be put to sleep, but our family still has a good laugh now and then about all the crazy things that dog did. Our new dog, Fudge, is a chocolate lab, and even through her puppy phase when she ate everything (including glass, keys, and heart medication) we've never had another episode quite like Teddy and the Twizzlers.

--Sara Hunter, Ross

The dog was real, but the bunnies weren't

Another worst dog story:

After years with Bardahl, I picked a Benji type mutt from a litter of seven for my son's fifth birthday. Thought it would be a cheap gift. How wrong I was after buying dogfood for years. I attached a large bow around Snuggle's neck and presented him to my son, Kelly. For Easter, I hid five chocolate Easter bunnies under my bed so my children wouldn't find them. Imagine my shock when we discovered chocolate foam dripping from Snuggle's mouth after he had devoured all five bunnies!

-- Patricia Orendorff Smith, Indiana, Pa.

His favorite snack is a sock; his next favorite is anything else

I have a chocolate lab named Harley who will be three next month and a yellow lab named Jasmine that will be one next month. Harley has put us through the ringer that for as many bad things that Jasmine does, it doesn't even faze us.

Harley was one of those energetic puppies that you could never leave alone in your house. We tried it but it didn't work and we eventually built him a pen in the basement that has all the luxuries a dog could want.

My husband even built him a log cabin dog house to go in this pen. Since he was a puppy, he has an obsession with socks. He literally swallowed them and then we'd hope they come back up within a few days which was what our vet told us.

One day, we noticed he didn't want his food which was a definite sign that something was wrong. We waited until the next day and still no appetite. By 11 p.m. that night, we decided he really wasn't himself and something had to be going on because he seemed to just keep getting worse.

As luck would have it, our veternarian doesn't have emergency hours so we had to go to a vet that would only use in a case of emergency. After an x-ray and knowing the history of our dog's obsession, they felt that he might have swallowed a sock and it wasn't passing but they couldn't be 100% sure. It was one of the hardest decisions to make. Either you do exploratory surgery to see if there was something in him or wait it out to see if it could pass it on his own but this could cause more damage.

We decided to let the vet hydrate Harley and in the morning we signed him out and took him to our vet. He did blood work to see if there was any change in his levels for a few days that should show signs of distress. Needless to say, we ended up doing the surgery and sure enough, it was my husband's work sock that was lodged and luckily no other damage was done.

The aftercare was one of the worse parts of this too. He had to wear a cone for two weeks until he'd leave his incision was healed enough that he wasn't bothering it. This dog has eaten so many socks to even count, not to mention anything plastic, gloves, scrunchies, candy, food, you name it.

He also ate a whole box of choclate covered cherries once which actually didn't even bother him believe it or not. To this day, we have to keep socks out of his sight. He is able to be trusted not to eat things anymore, but you never get that out of the back of your mind the trauma he went through and you can only hope for it not to happen again.

-- Carla, Pittsburgh

A picture is worth eight words

Diego -- a little 9-week-old beer thief.

-- Jerry Vettorel, Cochranton, Pa.

Introducing ... 'The Amazing Bonzo'

After my husband and I sold our large 9-room, 3-story house and settled on a small 6-room ranch, we somehow lost what little bit of sanity we still held on to. When we made our move, our son Thor, a rescued bull mastiff / shar pei mix, weighing in at 105 pounds and our daughter Clemmentine, a 25-pound pug with a princess attitude had to get accustomed to smaller surroundings. Over the first couple of months, all four of us would ram into each other while trying to make it into the small hallway, a small doorway and such. Soon we became aware when another family member was entering or exiting a room and would stay clear until we could go where we were headed. This is when my husband and I decided to go completely insane and rescued another baby, who, by all reports would grow to be no larger than 35 pounds. After struggling for a day to come up with a name that perfectly suited our new son, we finally settled on Bonzo.

Bonzo was an absolute breeze to housebreak, which so far has been his only saving grace. As with any puppy, it is their job to annoy, pester and totally tick off their older siblings and Bonzo was an ace with this. He seized every opportunity to terrorize Thor and totally upset the princess. Many discussions were held with Bonzo and to no avail. Over the months, we all became used to his antics and somehow except them. That is until his first 3 hours without being in his crate.

At this point, my husband and I should have checked in for treatment, but unfortunately we didn't recognize our severe mental disorder. Bonzo at 8 months old was already at 75 pounds and still hadn't grown into his paws. We were becoming a bit concerned that he was outgrowing his crate (which was the largest the we could purchase) and we would test him to see if he could be a good boy during a 3 hour absence to run some errands. We have never had to crate any dog that we had and I was increasingly feeling guilty that Bonzo was in the crate while Thor and Clemmie had free run of the house. I knew that Clemmie was sitting in front of his crate once we left for work and would make fun of him, she is very persnickety. After making sure that all 3 'kids' had gone out and done their business, we left and prayed to St. Francis that all of them would be safe from Bonzo and that we would still have a house standing when we returned.

After 3 hours, we cautiously opened the door and was greeted ecstatically by all three kids. We both drew a sigh of relief, however that was very short lived. Within the first 2 seconds, our Clemmie (the tattle tale) continued to bark and prance in circles until we followed her to the hallway. Surprise!!!! Bonzo had decided the he didn't like the carpeting and in 3 short hours had ripped up all 10 feet of it, including the tacks and the stretch bar. Next, Clemmie ushered us into the kitchen, where my house plants use to reside. Bonzo had at some point during his redecorating of the hallway had become a gardener. Everyone of my plants had been dug up and re-deposited into other rooms of the house. During this time, one of my little angels unset the water dish on top of the displaced potting soil and the kitchen floor was now a very large mud puddle. Next, Bonzo in his haste to hide, led us to yet another disaster in the living room, were we discovered that all of their stuffed toys had met an untimely death along with my Steeler mat and my hand made quilt that was folded on the back of the couch.

Without knowing what to do first, we hurried and took Bonzo to the vets to make sure that the tacks weren't lodged in his body and to make sure he wasn't bleeding internally. After a series of X-rays and $400 of vet bills, Bonzo was given a clean bill of health. We returned home and cleaned up the mess and tried to fix the carpet the best we could until it could be replaced.

Since that time, Bonzo has calmed down somewhat, although, we have had to replace the chain link fence and numerous plants in the garden because of his adventures. He is now taller than our Thor and at 13 months old is weighing in at 90 pounds. He has been renamed 'The Amazing Bonzo' and with his new found ally, his sister, her name has been changed to 'And his lovely assistant, Clemmentine'. Thor is above all of this and like us, he gives them a disgusted look and goes about his business, which is to stay as far away from the two trouble makers as possible.

I am currently looking for real professional help for me and my husband, we are looking to rescue another baby.

-- Denise Dumm, Gibsonia

The one constant in life has been dogs

This is not a worst dog story but a story of a woman of many dogs.

I have a picture of a little blond girl with a black and white Boston Terrier on her lap. On the back it says "Betty McCormick -- 4 years -- Skippy -- 4 months -- December 15, 1931. Recently I had a friend take a picture of me with my current dog, a 7-year-old black and white Shih Tzu. It says Betty Arscott and Oreo -- July 11, 2006. I had in mind to make some kind of a group picture with these two photos and one I have of my Scottish Terrier and Cairn Terrier who came in between along with alot of muts I have loved over the years. When I looked at the first and the last I noticed that not much has changed over 75 years, except me. I call this "The Life of a Woman in Dog Years". I think there is a story there somewhere.

-- Betty Arscott, Cranberry Township

Watch out for Bacon!

My story is about a St. Bernard and takes place in Little Rock, Ark. I'm a Western Pennsylvania native (Clarion), and my wife is imported; she's from England, a country obsessed with dogs. If a human is walking a dog across the street in England and they both get hit by a car, most British onlookers would run to the dog first to offer assistance.

Last fall my wife and teenage daughter had been bugging me for months to get an additional dog. Apparently they were not satisfied with our highly intelligent and very obedient border collie, Sam. It seems they thought a BIG dog could do a better job at home security.

In an incredibly stupid move, my wife and daughter went online, secretly and totally on the sly, and began searching for a St. Bernard, knowing that Dad would say "No way." My girls ended up on the Tennessee St. Bernard Rescue Center Web site, and they choose a 3-year old Cujo look-alike (all St. Bernards look like Cujo or Beethoven). The dog comes with a name, Bacon, and an unknown history. They love his photo; he's a tint of red and white and described as friendly and good with children.

One afternoon I got home a bit early from work and answered the phone. It was a call from the Tennessee St. Bernard Rescue Center, and the woman sounded like Flo from that waitress sitcom on TV. At first I thought it was a prank call and that she must have the wrong number. She said, "No, I talked with a lady with a funny accent, and we need to make arrangements for delivery." When my wife pulled into the driveway, I approached her with the 'What's this about the Tennessee St. Bernard Rescue Center?' She squealed and clapped her hands as she stated, "Oh jolly good, he arrives tomorrow, and there's nothing you can do to stop it!"

The next day these dog lovers tried to rendezvous in the middle of Arkansas. My wife is terrible at directions, and Flo is apparently no better. Flo kept buzzing by Little Rock unable to find the exit for the drop. She's driving a Jeep Cherokee filled with animals for deliveries all the way to Dallas. In addition to Bacon she had four other assorted smelly dogs, a python and a baby kangaroo. When I heard this I immediately thought that Flo was some evil animal distributor, the kind they raid on "Animal Cops." They finally got together on an off ramp and traded $350 for a whole lot of trouble. My little Honda Civic entered our driveway with a huge, slobbering head hanging out the window, drool stains all along the side.

They got him out and he lumbered up the sidewalk as our neighbors looked on in shock. They had a Shih Tzu and figured he would soon be a snack. Bacon was friendly all right, but nothing could have smelled worse. He was 125 pounds of filthy fur, spit, infection, and had an unseen evil streak. Big dogs like St. Bernards are sure bets for hip problems, eye trouble and ear infections. This fine animal had an ear infection that stank like 10-day-old garbage in 90-degree heat. His size was impressive though -- he took over any room.

After several baths and multiple trips to the vet ($$$) he began to settle in. Our regular dog figured this was some temporary thing -- no way this beast was going to stay. Bacon basically just laid around; he was calm, quiet and smelly. He did have a problem with kids about 4 feet tall, though -- our youngest son learned that Bacon grumbled at him and gave him the evil eye as he got close. One night as I walked Bacon toward the garage he lunged at the neighbor boy, another 4-foot 9-year-old. He nipped him on the arm -- but no blood. That was an eye-opener. I said I told you so, and my girls brushed it off, as the kid next door is too hyper anyway.

Then Bacon nipped our son during a lame game of fetch. To me it was clear, this dog didn't like young boys.

Bacon got a few more nips in at the boys, and I was gradually winning over the girls in the this-dog-may-have-a-problem-with-small-kids theory. Then the worst thing happened. While the girls were out shopping, Rhonda, our neighbor, came over to check on her son while I was out back and the boys (my two sons and the neighbor kid) were in the house playing video games. She rang the doorbell and, like Pavlov's dog, Bacon responded. He jumped up, barked and raced to the door. Only the storm door was shut, and Rhonda (approximately 5 feet tall) had no chance. Bacon went right though the glass door and lunged at this poor woman. She fell to the ground as the beast clambered to maul her. My 13-year-old son was strong enough to pull the dog off and get her free.

We called Flo back and gave her the bad news -- Bacon was done. This beautiful and once wonderful dog was a lawsuit waiting to happen. My wife and daughter have been banned from dog Web sites. They still yearn for a large dog, and I remain a staunch supporter of the Jack Russell rescue club. We're back in Pennsylvania now, and big furry dogs are all the rage. I'm thinking those Shih Tzu's might not be such a bad thing after all.

-- Mike Schierberl, New Wilmington, Lawrence County

A Lab/pit bull gourmet

While "Marley & Me" contains many great moments, we also have great moments with our lab mix, Einstein. Our puppy came to us from the Animal Rescue League and is a mix of Labrador retriever and pit bull. In our first year of having Einstein, we had a special episode on the evening of my husband's 30th birthday. We left Einstein alone for a few hours while we went out to celebrate. Our dog is an "aggressive" chewer and loves his toy bones. On the flip side, he is very lazy. As he is too lazy to hold his bones, he will wedge them under the corner of the sofa and gnaw on the end.

This particular night, Einstein must have shoved his bone under the sofa. He also must have caught a piece of the carpet as well. We returned to find a chunk of the sofa missing, along with a 3-foot-by-6-inch section of our Berber carpet. Einstein must have decided that all of this tasted as delicious as his bone. We attempted to have him purge all of this from his system. Two days later he was in surgery with a 6-inch opening in his stomach and three openings in his intestines to remove what was apparently a "Wal-Mart bag full of carpet threads".

Our miracle veterinarians at the Northview Animal Hospital were able to save Einstein's life. Einstein is just over 2 years old today and continues to be the favorite in our family. As I write this, we are finishing a week at the beach where we found a pet-friendly condo so that Einstein could travel with us.

-- Cara Caruso, Mt. Lebanon