Foley Rips the Cover off the British Royal Family Split

I have ripped the cover of the story of the century of the week.  I know why Prince Harry and Megan Markle have left England for the great woods of Canada.  It was not their decision. Their pets wanted to go. In fact, they are already on Vancouver Island waiting for their parents to finish up their royal business and join them. 

  The Prince and Duchess of Sussex have two dogs, one, a beagle named Max, and an intact pitbull called  Grandmaster Pimp Larry. The pittie angered the queen by turning her beloved dogs into cheap hos. Larry told her you could take the Pimp from the street, but you can’t take the street from the pimp. 

  Even for dogs, there is a right and a wrong way to interact with the Queen. When Max arrived at the castle, he quickly took to the rules:  1) No getting on the Queen’s lap, 2) no jumping on the Queen, 3) no bowel movements anywhere near the Queen. Every time Grandmaster Pimp Larry saw the Queen, he put his head right up her dress, and she said, “Ohhh, that dog!” 

  The Queen is not Grandmaster Pimp Larry’s most prominent critic at the Palace.  That would be Princess Kate. She found Grandmaster Pimp Larry walking around the house, carrying Prince William like he was a squeaky toy.  Princess Kate ripped Willam from the Grandmaster’s mouth, threw Prince George on the ground, and told the dog to play with that one. “It’s not like we are going to need it.”  

  Grandmaster Pimp Larry has a little known cat sister called Pebbles.  While the dogs belong to Megan Pebbles is Harry’s kitty. She came into Harry’s life at the same time that his wife did.  Some say that Harry loves Pebbles more than anyone else. Pebbles was the first one to grow tired of living at the palace and insisted that Harry move out.  She didn’t like being bossed around by the Queen more than normal cats hate being told what to do. That pussy controls everything that Harry says and thinks. Since he first met her Pebbles, he acts like she was the first pussy he has ever seen.   Poor Harry has gone from being a carefree playboy to being totally pussy whipped.  

  Between Pebbles insisting that she did not want to be a royal cat, and the refusal of the family and the staff, to recognize that Pimping Ain’t Easy,  (except for Prince Phillip who keeps bringing Grandmaster Pimp Larry into the shower with him to lick the soap off his privates, something he hasn’t had done since Princess Anne got off the funny juice) the animals insisted that the Windsors have fled to the new world where they can all live in peace. 

  Everyone seemed to be happy until the Queen saw how much less money there was in the royal coffers since her dogs stopped being pimped out.   It put quite a dent in the crumpet budget. She has rethought wanting Harry, Megan, and their brood. When Kate complained, the Queen told to to“no one cares Grandmaster raked your boob.”

So the palace is in an uproar, and there are lots of questions that need answering:  Will the Queen allow Grandmaster Pimpdaddy Larry to whore out her dogs? Can Larry and Kate live together?  Will Harry get the upper hand on Pebbles? And what about Max?

I promise to keep my loyal readers informed of the ongoing scandal. 

Pocket Tries a New Training Product

I, like all dogs, hate to be left alone.   I am the kind of pup who needs to be in a crate when my parents are gone. In the past, they have allowed me to be loose, and when they got home, they found me in a corner trembling while everything inside of me turned to water.  

For the first part of my life, I lived with Foley.  When my parents went out, she laid on top of a blanket and chilled.  Now I live with River. She does the opposite. She paces, pants, climbs on the furniture, sits on the kitchen table to look out the window, and has, on occasion, stranded herself on the vanity because she insisted on seeing out the bathroom window and couldn't get down The only thing worse was her in a crate. She was so determined to get out she would get stuck in the door.  I would rather have Foley relaxing on a blanket then River’s anxiously tramping around the house.    

I have never sought the limelight the way Foley did.  She decided to be a social network dog. I was happy to be an anonymous pup, quietly living my life.  I joined Foley on Doggyspace, to support my sister, and I continue posting in her memory. Because of this, everyone considers me a dog influencer.  Entrepreneurs ask me to test and spread the word about different products.

This week I was asked by the Go Dogo people to review their new online training device.  The only thing I dislike more than being left alone is when I am forced to train. I never went to school and was barely taught by my parents.    Foley came to my parents as a ten-week-old dog who knew everything. They thought I would be the same way. That assumption would repeatedly prove to be false.  

           I swore to be open-minded.  The device consists of two different parts:  There is a treat dispenser that mounts to the wall over the television and connects to the TV through an HDMI cable.  I am not a fan of the tv. It makes unpredictable noises and takes attention away from me. But, even if we hate something, once it gives us treats, we love it. 

` There is also a camera that is attached to the side of the television which is solely there to spy on us, although it won’t be long before parents are using it to see what their teens are doing when they are home alone.  
  
The device is controlled through an app.  Our parents can schedule our activities from anywhere.  When they activate the program, the TV magically comes on, a trainer appears on the screen, and he orders us to do various training exercises. If we do them, a treat comes out of the dispenser. It is supposed to take our downtime and turn it into training time.  

I sat in front of the darkened TV and waited.  The first time it came on, and I heard the trainer’s voice, yipped, ran out of the room and hid under the bed.  When I came out, River was standing on the edge of the slim TV with a screwdriver in her mouth trying to get the treats out of the dispenser.  The voice magically came on again, and I ran under the bed. After a day, I was trained to be scared of the TV, and River had broken the dispenser. 

I would have to rate the Go Dogo an abysmal failure unless you want your dog afraid of the television, then it works swimmingly. 

If humans have to leave us alone, at least they can let us be during that time and not give us work to do.  

We are animals who can be trained but only by a human.

And there isn’t an app for that. 

Wordless Wednesday

Beat this Caption

Oh, sure, yell at us but when you do it with Mommy it's beautiful