Fun Dog Shaming Endured in 2012

By Sandra Ward

There's Harvey the French Bulldog under the strewn Christmas tree; looking up with a caption that reads, But mom, thought you said the Christmas tree needed trimming.

Who's next Dogshaming Tumblr page? Take a look for yourself.

By writing down your dog's most recent or common misdeed, placing the note near the guilty party and snapping a picture, you, too, could submit a dog for public shaming on the tremendously popular site.

And if you don't have a bad dog — well, they're loads of fun to look at.

Canines commit crazy crimes.

0 days since I ate the cat litter.

I pretend you're yelling "DO go into the street."

We killed a mockingbird.

I was mad that you left me alone, so I peed on your bed. And your laptop.

When no one is looking, I hump the baby.

I ate the couch, the drywall, and a first edition Steinbeck.

Dogshaming the page — not the act, which dog parents have been doing for decades — was created with no expectations by Tumblr's editorical director, Chris Mohney, who consolidated a couple of internet pictures into one place.

Within a few days of adding a submit button, the page had thousands of followers and hundreds of daily submissions.

Chris has since given the page to someone with more time on their hands. Which is a true sign of someone who's already too successful for his own good, since the page received the support of Kathie Lee and Hoda on “Today."

Think public shaming of dogs is cruel? Submit it to the dog, the new webmaster says.

"Please don't bother sending me a 'You're a terrible person for shaming your dogs! These are learned behaviors from irresponsible dog owners.' I know, I get it, we're all terrible people. Shaming people for shaming dogs is a tad ironic, no?"

Plus, the internet didn't create dog shaming. Dogs have given us those eyes for decades.

I met one this weekend: Riley, my future sister-in-law's loveable, albeit sometimes troublesome, family labradoodle.

He's sweet as a tootsie roll, but sometimes things happen.

"Riley will do that all the time — to himself," my brother-in-law said. "When he sees you, his tail's between his legs, his head is low, and you have no idea what he did but he looks at you like, 'I'm really sorry I did that. It was an impulse decision.'

"Most of the time you look around the house and it's not even something bad, like you'll go upstairs and he's ripped a piece of paper in half. And you don't even yell at him because you know he knows what he's done and he's already sulking. He's relegated himself to 'horrible dog.'"