Poetry Thursday

   

Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday.

Toby knew it was his last day

And by next morning he would away

So he vowed to live the day to the fullest

And complete what he had listed on his bucket list

The first was morning snuggle time with his mom

It was quiet but a lot of fun

“It’s time to go,” his mom did say

On the morning of his final day

They took a long walk in the woods

The one that surround their neighborhood

Then they went to a lunch buffet

A fitting meal for one’s final day.

They went to the pond for a swim.

Then to the groomers for a blowout and trim

Then he added a boat race to his resume

On this his final day

Finally there was one final thing

To go to the park and be pushed on the swing

He sat there for an hour swinging white the children cid play

On this his final day

Soon the sun was setting

And his mom could not stop petting

Then she took him home and put him on the couch to lay

And Toby said to death “not today.”

All dogs live the day like it is their last

Because you never know what the future has forecast

If Toby could speak he would say

“Live life to the fullest and enjoy every second of the day.’”

  

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Explain this one more time. I get my Mom to kiss you, then you turn into a prince and make us all rich. Frankly, I'm not seeing it

Monday Question

 Where are your favorite spots in the house?

I love both my parent's chair, my bed and blanket by the TV, the little rug in the bedroom, and the big bed.

The Ruby Rose Report: The Broken Recliner

 

I love sitting in my reclining chairs. I can either lean against the back of it or lie at the foot. I even do it alone, something I believe is called masterchairin.

Last week I lost one of my reclining chairs.

Daddy was sitting in it, when there was a crack, and the back of the chair, on one side, became loose, almost swallowing him up, like a lazy Jonah watching The Good Doctor.

Let me stress it did not break because he is overweight, it broke because he has a fat ass.

First, he tried to fix it, reminding me of a child trying to staunch his father’s belly wound. There were no survivors.

My parents don’t have a basement, so they propped the broken chair in the corner, thinking no one would notice like the Buckets thought no one noticed the grandparents in bed in the living room performing a manage a four.

The sensible thing to do would be to go to a furniture shop and buy a chair, but my parents think they are smart, which makes no room for sense. So, they ordered a chair online.

Clothes, furniture, wine, and brides are four things you shouldn’t order online: But they did.

In the two days it took the chair to arrive my Dad sat in the electric chair recliner. I think it was made for mass murderers who want to be executed in repose. It is not that comfortable, but it does go up and down on its own, and vibrates so to my almost shut-in parents it’s like a ride at a Hooters located at Universal Studios. After sitting in it for a day he said what my mom said when he proposed: “It’s not what I want, but it will do.”

They could not cancel the chair, so it arrived in a huge box. I regretted we would not be able to see him put it together the 87,000-piece unit failing so often he would spend the night curled up on the hard floor.

It’s more comfortable than the electric recliner.

It was good that it was easily returnable, just bring it into Nat King Kohl. Nat will take anything.

But, the box wouldn’t fit in the car, so Daddy, took it apart, jammed it in with the collapsed box, drove to Nat’s place, took it out of the car, piled it into shopping carts, and then decided to check on how to return it, and saw that by no means should it be returned to Nat’s house, but should be left in the box, and it will be picked up.

So, Daddy returned home, took the box out of the car, put 87,000 strips of tape on the box, and then put it all back in the box, then left it to be picked up

Daddy went inside and fell asleep in the electric recliner.

At least he learned what you have to do to make it comfortable.

Foley's Tails from Rainbow Bridge: About that eclipse

 

All I wanted was a new bench for my chambers.

I ordered it from Judges’r’us and paid a premium to have it delivered. My mistake was hiring three bears movers without reading their motto: “You pack it, we break it and blame someone else.”

Luckily, they did not break my new bench. They just used their wings to bring it to the roof and left it there.

We were working late. I had my old bench removed that morning and I was facing being like the 1984 Cincinnatti Reds without their recently retired Hall of Fame catcher: Benchless.

The only way to get my bench to my courtroom was to have Pocket and River move it. They both balked, saying it was too heavy, but nothing is too heavy fan an angel, except eating a half dozen chocolate donuts before bed.

I told them to put it on their backs and slowly fly down to my office window where I would wait. They complained it was too bulky to move, but I told them they could do it.

I ran down to my office, looked out the window, and saw they couldn’t do it. They had lost control of the bench, which was rising, with them on top of it, to the sun.

Then I got a call from Ruby saying her Dallas friends told her that it suddenly became dark in the middle of the day, and I realized my sister had moved the bench in front of the sun.

Slowly, spreading across the heartland of America, my sisters, and my bench were causing an eclipse. The humans, not willing to accept two smallish dog angels, moving another one’s judge’s bench, could turn day to night.

Then over the Atlantic, my sisters dropped my desk into the ocean, and then tried to blame me, saying I should have known what would happen.

I ordered another bench and made sure neither bears nor dogs were allowed to move it.

The good news was that all the cases before me the next day were contested by angels too consumed with the eclipse to notice I was making my rulings behind a pool table.

Another in my long line of judicial embarrassments,

 

Poetry Thursday

Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton gave us a picture for inspiration

Daddy said get the kids together we are going to the beach.

I grabbed my flip flops, my towel, anything I could reach.

But when we arrived I was left without speech

The only fish who could survive in this water would be a leach.

 

Mama said: “I thought we were going to someplace nice,

Not a patch of sand being watched by police vice.”

“There is nothing wrong,” Papa said “push away the grease.

And don’t drink the water or your dysentery will never cease.”

 

They stepped between the broken bottles and a discarded flat tire.

And tried not to hear the sound of sporadic gunfire.

But wading into the water they saw the quagmire.

Because the water lapping the beach was on fire.

 

“Let’s all go for a swim,”

Daddy said, most dim.

His son was texting cousin left-handed Tim

To tell him he recognized, floating by, his missing limb.

 

“I don’t understand, you all wanted to go to the beach,” Papa said.

His wife answered sharply “we wanted to go somewhere that we didn’t have to share a blanket with the dead.”

Papa reminded her they conceived their son on this beach the night they were wed.

She answered “that is why he has three nipples, one testicle, half a kidney and a thumb growing out of his forehead.”

 

She told the kids they would not be swimming there today

The beach had been closed by the EPA.

From the beach they quickly drove away

And three days later they needed their privates to receive an x-ray.

 

The family never returned to that part of the shore

And the mother lived the rest of her life indoor.

One daughter became a nun, the other a whore

While the son grew to resemble a minotaur