A Very Big Dog Named Floyd Had To Be Rescued On A Hike And The Photos Are Amazing

He handled the situation like a champ, injured paws and all.

Look, hiking a few miles up a mountain is hard. If you’re a 190-pound dog named Floyd, who may not be in the best shape of his life, it’s a bit too much

The 3-year-old mastiff was hiking with his human up the Grandeur Peak trail in Salt Lake County, Utah, on Sunday and got so worn out he couldn’t make it back to the car.

About five concerned hikers passed by the pup and his owner, who were stopped on the trail for hours, and called 911 once they got back to cell reception. Salt Lake County Search and Rescue were dispatched to rescue Floyd and quickly sprang to action to make sure the doggo got off the mountain before it got too dark and too cold, Todd Taylor, the team’s squad leader, told BuzzFeed News.

“They started hiking around noon and it’s usually a three-hour hike,” Taylor said. “But they were sitting up there for a few hours. He would walk a few feet and then sit down and his paws were hurt and cut up.”

The nonprofit, all-volunteer crew does about 50 rescues a year, Taylor, 49, said. They range from injured runners, dehydrated hikers, swift-water incidents, and jumping out of helicopters to get to stranded rock climbers.

Most of the volunteers have been rescuing people for 10 to 15 years. Saving dogs, though, is much rarer and required some strategizing.

This was an interesting rescue because of the size of Floyd,” Taylor said. “We knew we had a big dog, a 190-pounder, and we treated it like a normal rescue for a person.”

Ten rescuers on two teams arrived armed with helmets, ropes, radios, and a litter — a piece of equipment used to carry people — to rescue Floyd. However, the wheel broke about a mile into the rescue, Taylor said, so the crew had to carry the massive mastiff the rest of the way down.

But Floyd handled the entire situation like a champ and was the best of boys.

Story from Buzzfeed

So Horrible It Has to be Shared!

Have you ever had an experience so horrible it had to be shared? Maybe something smells or tastes so bad you cant leave it alone. ”Taste this! It’s disgusting!” Over your poor friend’s protests, you insist. “No really, you gotta taste this! It’s horrible!”

That’s why I have to inflict this story on you.

A few days ago, I got an early start, vacuumed, mopped, changed my sheets, and tidied up before settling into my comfy chair with my laptop to write. As I gathered my thoughts and awaited inspiration, Bud and Buzzy approached the patio door.

Buzzy, my American Eskimo Dog is sedate and well-mannered, so it startled me to see him burst through the patio door like a bat out of Hell before he launched himself half-way across the room into my lap. As Bud headed to his office, he nonchalantly mentioned Buzzy might be suffering from some abdominal distress. Sure enough, Buzzy rapidly spun three three or four rotations in my lap and on top of my computer. I tried to calm his nerves and was assaulted by the smell of feces and the nauseating sight of an excrement-smeared computer screen and filthy clothes. Wisely, as I struggled to dig out from under the tornado of a poop monster, Bud disappeared into his office feigning deafness.

Heartbroken by his poor welcome, Buzzy fled to a place of consolation, my fresh bed. Like his wolf-ancestors, before lying down he made two or three circles to prepare his bed. Miraculously, Bud had somehow become aware of the festivities, as had our other dog, a huge Mastiff mix, Croc. Not wanting Buzzy to have all the fun, Croc inserted himself into the melee. The curious one-hundred twenty pound dog jealously trying to stay between Buzzy and his pursuers complicated the situation exponentially. Croc had no clue what the concern was since he and Buzzy greeted each other genteelly with a sniff of the nether portions first thing every morning, but had no intention of being denied a good time. 

With a bit of a scuffle, Bud shut Croc out while  we progressed to the bathroom as Croc howled in outrage., “I poop a lot more than he does!  Where’s my party?” Not having had a chance to evaluate the situation, I wrestled Buzzy into the sink, but not before most bathroom surfaces took on a fine patina of poop. Holding Buzzy in place, I ran water and added soap for his bath. Very quickly, I became aware a sink-bath wouldn’t suffice. Taking him to a tub outdoors was out of the question, so he was destined for his first shower. Naturally, he could hardly be expected to shower himself, so I climbed in. Surprisingly, that was the easiest part of the ordeal. He behaved perfectly throughout the process.

Fortunately for the sake of our marriage, Bud didn’t get off too easily. While Buzzy and I showered, he cleaned the walls and floors, all the way back to where Buzzy had made his grand entrance. By the time the shower was over was over and Buzzy dried, the bed was stripped and the washer and hamper were full of disgusting laundry. As a special bonus, the sink was plugged with excreta and long, white dog hair, another diversion for Bud.

In the week before, I had intended to get Buzzy in for grooming. Much to his joy, I’d never made it. Though his coat is beautiful, particularly in hot weather, it benefits from regular brushing. I am especially careful to brush him thoroughly before bathing to remove loose hair and minimize matting. Sadly, Buzzy had not advised me of his plans. He was so matted after bathing, I wasn’t able to finish the job in one brushing. I’d brush a while , let him take a break, and pick up with the job, later. Some mats even required scissoring, something I’ve never had to do before. I think I’ve gotten enough hair out to upholster another whole dog. Sadly, all that brushing makes Croc even more envious. He’s required an inordinate amount of brushing, too.

Many hours later, things settled to normal.  Next time I am ready, I’ll be more specific in my search for inspiration.