Pyrenees and the coyote thread brought up some good story worthy memories of her.
When I was 6 my dad brought home a Great Pyrenees puppy. She was born on July 4th, so we named her Liberty (Libby). Libby was me and my sister's first dog and we pampered and doted on that baby like no other. She took to me like a sibling and I loved her as such. We were best friends and inseparable.
Libby was just over a year old the day my dad fired a guy at work for showing up to drive his route drunk. That dude came knocking the next night, wasted, looking to fight my dad. Dad wasn't home yet but ol boy didn't believe my mom and pushed his way inside our house. Before he made it one stumbly stride in the door, that big beautiful ***** shattered our back sliding glass door and has him pinned to our front door. He was letting out screams in pitch I'd never heard; pure terrified panic. She was ripping his skin from the bones of his body wherever she could grab hold. He drug her and his blood soaked body to his truck as my dad pulled in and called her off. Dad said he wanted to kill him but after seeing what Libby did to him, he took pity. Cops came & dude was transported by ambulance to have his ass, arm, and leg meat re-attached before his arrest.
A year or so later, I was letting Libby pull me down the street on my skateboard when the neighbor's Rottweiler came sprinting at us from up the road. I froze because I was 8 and terrified. Without so much as a growl, that big beautiful ***** stepped right in front of me and straight Mack trucked that big black brute. They stood up like grown men & by the time their front paws hit the ground so did the biggest splatter of blood I'd ever seen. She went straight jugular and never checked up. Ol' Cujo never took another breath. His whole throat laid in a chunk beside him. I was gleefully traumatized.
A few years later we moved to the country. Not long after, we were all on the back porch when the yotes started in. Libby perked up & started scanning. Sure enough, a BIG, dark, male loner pops out of the wood line right past our back fence headed for the pack. Libby sniped him in an instant and in none.1 seconds that big beautiful ***** hit a stride that never touched a strand of barbed wire. Before any of us fully grasped what was happening she had big Wylie wadded up in a lifeless mess. Same ball game; throat totally detached from body. She damn near decapitated him.
From then on we'd find random throatless yote bodies strewn around the ranch. That was the most fiercely loyal, amazing, beautiful, protective, badass sheepdog to ever grace my life and now, in my 30's, I often think of her when I consider what I'd do to protect my own flock.
To those once in a lifetime dogs we've loved...
When I was 6 my dad brought home a Great Pyrenees puppy. She was born on July 4th, so we named her Liberty (Libby). Libby was me and my sister's first dog and we pampered and doted on that baby like no other. She took to me like a sibling and I loved her as such. We were best friends and inseparable.
Libby was just over a year old the day my dad fired a guy at work for showing up to drive his route drunk. That dude came knocking the next night, wasted, looking to fight my dad. Dad wasn't home yet but ol boy didn't believe my mom and pushed his way inside our house. Before he made it one stumbly stride in the door, that big beautiful ***** shattered our back sliding glass door and has him pinned to our front door. He was letting out screams in pitch I'd never heard; pure terrified panic. She was ripping his skin from the bones of his body wherever she could grab hold. He drug her and his blood soaked body to his truck as my dad pulled in and called her off. Dad said he wanted to kill him but after seeing what Libby did to him, he took pity. Cops came & dude was transported by ambulance to have his ass, arm, and leg meat re-attached before his arrest.
A year or so later, I was letting Libby pull me down the street on my skateboard when the neighbor's Rottweiler came sprinting at us from up the road. I froze because I was 8 and terrified. Without so much as a growl, that big beautiful ***** stepped right in front of me and straight Mack trucked that big black brute. They stood up like grown men & by the time their front paws hit the ground so did the biggest splatter of blood I'd ever seen. She went straight jugular and never checked up. Ol' Cujo never took another breath. His whole throat laid in a chunk beside him. I was gleefully traumatized.
A few years later we moved to the country. Not long after, we were all on the back porch when the yotes started in. Libby perked up & started scanning. Sure enough, a BIG, dark, male loner pops out of the wood line right past our back fence headed for the pack. Libby sniped him in an instant and in none.1 seconds that big beautiful ***** hit a stride that never touched a strand of barbed wire. Before any of us fully grasped what was happening she had big Wylie wadded up in a lifeless mess. Same ball game; throat totally detached from body. She damn near decapitated him.
From then on we'd find random throatless yote bodies strewn around the ranch. That was the most fiercely loyal, amazing, beautiful, protective, badass sheepdog to ever grace my life and now, in my 30's, I often think of her when I consider what I'd do to protect my own flock.
To those once in a lifetime dogs we've loved...