takotruckin wrote:Moe
Where does a St Bernard sit? Wherever he wants!!

Many years ago, a cousin of mine had a St Bernard named Noah. Mike and my brother were room mates. Mike got drafted and had to go to Viet Nam. During his going-away party at his apartment after boot camp, Noah, still a puppy at near 200lbs, was going around finishing every beer that wasn't in someone's hand. By the time everyone went home, Noah was pretty wasted. Noah couldn't make it up the stairs to their apartment. Mike and my brother together couldn't get Noah off the ground, let alone up the stairs. So Noah laid out in the courtyard next to the pool howling the rest of the night, until he finally passed out around daybreak. Fortunately the neighbors all loved Noah and understood. While Mike was gone, Noah stayed with Mike's folks and finished growing up. He wound up 270lbs. He was CERTAIN that he was a lap dog. Anyone who sat down was fair game, in spite of all the training efforts. A favorite game to him was laying quietly on the living room floor in the middle of the day. When the mailman would shove the mail through the slot in the heavy duty front screen door, Noah would go off. The regular mailman got used to it, but whenever there was a substitute...I was there once when a new carrier shoved the mail through and Noah pounced at the door, woofing his loudest and clanging into the screen loudly! He could, of course, have gone through the door like a Peterbuilt going through a fly. The mailman tossed the leather mailbag up in the air and ran off down the street screaming. Mail was all over the front lawn and Noah was rolling on his back on the carpet with glee, wagging his tail for all it was worth pushing the coffee table around. Uncle Les got in his car to look for the mailman. He found him a block down the street 15' up a tree, hollering at everyone in the neighborhood to get off the streets and run for their lives. Les and a neighbor finally talked the guy down out of the tree, but he refused to come back to their block. So Uncle Les went into the neighbor's house and called home. I gathered the mail, stuffed it into the bag and took it down the street. In a while, the supervisor from the Post Office came over to talk to Uncle Les and Aunt Ruth. I brought Noah out on the lawn on a leash and he was totally friendly to the Supervisor. The Supervisor delivered the mail to the rest of the block. In more recent times, the incident would have caused legal issues. But not so much in the 60s.