Sunday, May 31, 2009

Of Pitbulls and Men

By Foley:

What is a pitbull? My niece Mia is an American Bulldog. She looks like this:



I was supposed to spend the weekend with her while Mommy and Daddy went to Wolfeboro but they got their reservation changed to a weekend in July (thank you Bear Stearns and AIG). So I won’t be staying with Mia and my brother and his wife until then.
I am looking forward to it, Pocket and I love all three of them, but when people see her picture they say “ohhh, she’s a pit bull,” like they say “ohhh, the Limbaughs just moved next door.”

They look at me and said: “That pit bull will just gobble Foley right up.” (Please excuse fowl language.)

I don’t want to be gobbled right up, and I say that Mia is not a pit bull, she’s a bulldog and she’s a good friend of mine, I never understood a single word she said but I don’t worry about her biting my behind, and I do have a mighty fine behind.

But any large, stocky terrier or bulldog is immediately identified as a pit bull, which I think is unfair. I am a Yorkie. There are several breeds similar to us, the Silky, or the Aussie, but they aren’t us (not by a long short, sorry, but let’s not kid ourselves lollipops.) When someone tells a Silky owner they own a Yorkie, and the owner corrects them, there is no disagreement. When someone tells a bulldog owner they own a pit bull and they correct them they are told they’re lying.

I don’t believe pit bulls are born as much as they are raised. I have done research using my delicate little toes to surf the net this morning and I can’t find concurring opinions on what a pitbull is. What I have determined is this: whenever a dog that is similar to a large terrier or bulldog attacks a person or pet they are a pitbull. When a dog is a regular house pet that doesn’t bother a soul, they are bulldogs or terriers.

How come bulldogs and terriers never attack anyone? When they do they graduate to the status of pitbull. If I bit one of my grandbabies in the face (oh don’t worry, I would never) would I become the world’s smallest pitbull?

Although I was born in this country I still view Americans as a proper English dog and I am fascinated by their view that if a few of a group are bad then the entire group is bad. Going back through American history: Native Americans, African-Americans, Irish, Jews, Mexicans, were all viewed as 100% bad. Now they have extended it to the animal world: sharks and pitbulls.

So now people want to ban pitbulls. They do it at Daddy’s work. No one living in a building he manages can have one. There’s this dog Ruckus. He’s a six-year-old Bull Terreir. He’s playful. When he met Daddy he jumped on him, wrapped his paws around his neck, snorted all over his shirt, left his face a wet mess. There didn’t seem to be an evil bone in his body, but Daddy told Ruckus’ Mom, who refers to the dog as her baby, that she had to give up the dog after moving in. Luckily her mother in law will take it. But Daddy hates having to split up Mom’s and dogs. It seems to go against everything he believes in.

There are other dogs that Daddy has had to help find homes for because they were called pitbulls. Even if there are papers from the AKC or veterinarians calling the pup an American bulldog or Terrier, if the bosses or police call it a pitbull the dog must go despite of the dog’s disposition.

You know what you never here? You never here about a pitbull puppy attacking someone. You know what this Yorkie thinks? He thinks that when they’re born pitbulls are as peaceful as Pocket and I. But humans see a potential in them, a potential for mayhem, and us dogs, well all we want to do is please our Mommy and Daddy, and if that means snuggling on a lap then we snuggle on a nap, and if that means attacking another dog we attack another dog. We’d jump off a bridge if it would make you happy.

You know what else I think? I think us dogs, being so loyal to you humans, and wanting to please you, are as unable to control our willingness to obey you as your cars, or your television remotes, or your guns. You train us to give you paw, and ask for paw, bam there’s the paw….can’t help it. You ask us to fetch the ball bam…we run after the ball. You train us use our forceful jaws to damage another living being…..bam.

I know you human put people in prison, even end their lives for hurting one another. I don’t think any guns or knives are locked up there. But if a human uses their dog to do damage, the dog gets locked up….or worse.

So I worry about my niece Mia. Not that she will hurt me. Her parents would never train her to do that. I am worried that she and her parents will meet prejudice some day because dogs that look like her have done some bad things, and people don’t understand them, and fear them. Because fearing and discriminating against someone out of fear, ignorance and misunderstanding has been part of this country since the Pilgrims slammed into a rock.

That’s just one little dog’s opinion. I know many of you come by for a daily chuckle, and I’m sorry, not in a chuckle mood today. Just been thinkin’ about my niece, and other dogs I think are being treated unfairly, and when that happens I just need to bark.

Friday, May 29, 2009

The frank, the beans, Tom and Jerry and the whole nine yards

By Pocket

Just before bed Daddy takes us out for a trip around the grassy area in the center of our development. When we get to the top of the driveway, by the woods and the meadow, we see the kitty brothers, Casper and Oreo, one white, one black, who lie by the weeds staring into the darkness.

“What are they staring at?” I ask Foley. “They’re hunting,” she said. Holy crap!” I said, and then I crapped, and Daddy told me I was a good girl, and I didn’t want to tell him it was a fear crap not a good girl crap. “We have to get inside, I don’t want to be hunted.’

“They’re not hunting us, they’re hunting mice and critters and things,” she said. “Like the way we chase squirrels?” I asked. “Yes, except they catch them, kill them, and leave them on their Daddy’s porch.” “Well what the hell do they do that for?” I asked, leaking some pee, and being told I was a good girl by Daddy, who was really starting to annoy me.

“They just do,” she said. I looked at them, smugly sitting there, staring into the weeds, and I reached way down in my belly and gave them my most fearsome: “Yip, yip, yip,” and they never even looked my way. Well that got my hackles up and I started pulling on the leash.

“Pocket, leave the kitties alone,” my Daddy said, but I was determined. I do not like being ignored. I pulled and pulled as hard as I could. Foley looked at Daddy and said “let her go, she’s got to learn,” and so Daddy followed me, with Foley, who knew better, staying behind Daddy.

I kept barking and this white kitty didn’t even turn to look at me and I got madder and madder. I performed my big move. The run up and bark and then run away. I ran up and barked and ran away. The cat didn’t move. I ran up again and it turned and it bipped me with it’s paw right in my nose.

“Yeoooow!” I cried and this time I ran in the other direction so far that I reached the end of the leash and flipped in the air, fell, ran back in the other direction, toward the cat, and turned and ran the other way again before Daddy picked me up. Foley sat on the pavement licking her paws.

“Arree those dogs botherin’ my kitties?” our neighbor yelled from his porch. I began shaking in my Daddy’s arms. Foley and I don’t like our neighbor. He is loud, he is mean, and he doesn’t like dogs. And worst of all he doesn’t wear pants.

Blake, Mommy’s and Daddy’s first dog, told Foley that one day when Mommy and Daddy were working in the garden in front of the house Blake ran out the door, turned, and saw our pants-less neighbor standing in his bathrobe drinking a coffee and she ran up and put her head inside the bathrobe.

And there were the frank, the beans, Tom and Jerry, the whole nine yards and Blake ducked her head out of the bathrobe ran back in the house up the stairs and under the bed. Then there was the night Daddy and Blake were in the back yard, looked up and saw through his French doors the neighbor flipping flapjacks naked.

Daddy told me that it was all right and he put me down and we walked back towards the house. The man was sitting on his porch in the bathrobe, which isn’t very long, it only goes up to, ugh, mid thigh, and as we passed Foley kept whispering to me, “don’t look, don’t look, for the love of the baby Jesus don’t look.”

“Don’t let those dogs around my kitties,” he said, and Daddy replied the kitties were tougher than us, and, through the corner of my eye, I could see him lift his legs, and spread them, and there they were, the frank, the beans, Tom and Jerry, the whole nine yards. I put my head down and ran right into the screen door.

Daddy opened the door and I ran in and jumped on Mommy’s lap and she saw me shaking and said “Did you see the frank, the beans, Tom and Jerry, the whole nine yards?” and I buried my head in her lap and trembled right up until I got my cookie.

I can’t wait until we sell this place. Mommy needs to live on one floor before her knee surgery. Do you know anyone who wants to buy a townhouse across from the state mental hospital, with a squirrel obsessed neighbor, a naked neighbor, two stalking kitties, and a sinister Chihuahua?

Oh God I’m gonna live here forever.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

The Tanner Brigade's own Jon and Kate plus 8

By Foley:

Last night Mommy and I were watching a wonderful program about a woman who had a litter of two children, then another of six, called John and Kate plus Eight, when I found out that Jon, the calm and docile male, may have been sniffing a tail that didn’t belong to pack leader Kate.

Let me tell you boys something, you might think it’s OK to give a whiff to every Lollipop that goes floating by, but when you got a bitch like Kate waiting at home, with her angry coslopus from which she pushed eight of your children you better hope she’s lethargic from milking because your butts going to have more teeth marks in it than Matilda’s rawhide couch.

Now Daddy, he’s a silly man, and he said “well the way she bosses him around you can’t blame him.” Mommy and I, we don’t have to speak, we just look at him, and he sighs, walks outside, lies in the hammock, wishes he had sprung for the one with the canvas top because it’s raining, and hopes Mommy allows him back in before dawn.

Watching this sniveling cheater made me wonder about my own favorite reality family “The Shams & Sweets and pack” gang. I woke up this morning, passing Daddy asleep in the hammock, sure he regretted having said he wanted to watch: “Jon and L.C. living in The Hills plus twice monthly visitation and two major holidays a year.”

I walked into our new puppy park, past the Tanner Bub statue, and right in front of me, sitting in the sun, was the Pack’s Papa, Duke, licking himself down under. “Stop right there!” I said. “You have thousands of fans and your actions are sullying your reputation.”

“What?” he asked. “I’m cleaning myself.” “Oh don’t give me that! Monk doesn’t spend this much time polishing his knobs. You are a famous dog, everyone waits for the Puppy Digest to come out each week, and here you are, sitting in the park, treating your body like it’s an amusement park!”

He shrugged and went back to licking himself. I knew what I had to do as a friend. I couldn’t let Fay Fay find out about this in the Puppy Enquirer, I had to tell her myself. I found her on the opposite side of the park trying to keep her kids from eating a fence. I told her about Duke.

“Oh Foley, he’s just a dog, he has to sniff and lick and stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but at the end of the night he’s snuggled up with me and that’s all that matters.” She then went back to tending to her children. The poor delusional woman: Ovaries must warp the mind.

I went back to Duke and you wouldn’t believe what I found. Duke was sniffing Zoe Boe’s butt. “Zoe, you’re a good girl,” I said. “You don’t want to be mixed up in this.” “Oh Foley that’s just the way we say hi,” she said, but suddenly there was the sound of scuffling in the bushes and blasts of light.

It was puppies! With cameras! It was the pupperazzi! And they were taking pictures of Zoe and Duke together. Soon the Puppy Enquirer would have them on page one, following the Pack everywhere they went, writing all sorts of terrible things, just because Duke’s a butt sniffer.

Men. Can’t live with. Can’t think of a reason to with them once you’re neutered.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Pocket is the most powerful dog in the world

By Pocket

I crawled out from under the bed this morning and went downstairs where Foley was sitting on Mommy’s lap. I jumped up and Foley met me with her morning “If you even think about me moving I’m gonna nip your backside,” look. I climbed on the arm of the chair and looked at Mommy.

“Is it over?” I asked.

“Is what over little one?” she asked.

“The war, the fighting, is it over?”

Yes sweetie,” she said kissing me on the head, “I think the great doggy cyber space war is over.”

“Thank God,” I said. “Are we still at Doggyweb?”

“Well yes, but there is no administer for Doggyweb so being on it is sort of like being on a runaway bus.”

“Oh that sounds scary!” I said.

“You think that’s scary,” Mommy said, “look who’s driving the new bus!”



I asked her what she meant and she said that Foley had started her own private site for peaceful fun loving doggies and named it after our favorite Bub, Tanner. “And you are in charge of it?” I asked Foley. She stopped licking her pinky toes and nodded. “Then you’re like Princess!” I said, and then “yeoouch!” That’s when she bit my backside.

“Why don’t I make you two some breakfast and Foley will explain it to you,” Mommy said.

I snuggled down next to her. This is when she enjoys me the most, when I’m snuggled down next to her keeping her warm. Then I ruined it by opening my snout. “Why do we need new site?” I asked.

“The Cylons came,” Foley said still preoccupied with her piggy toes.

“The Cylons? What did they look like?”

“They are blonde. And pretty. And wear too much makeup. And are self-replicating. They invaded, but they never spoke, they just looked at us, very scary. I don’t like Cylons.”

“Is there any other reason?” I asked.

She nodded her head. “Dymes,” she said.

“Oh Foley are you into the loan sharks again? You have to stop betting on the bunny races.”

“Not dimes, Dymes. You know that white doggy that showed up Friday night and ruined doggyweb for everyone. I’ve been told I shouldn’t use her name. So I call her Dymes. It’s an anagram.”

“I thought it was a Bitchin’ Freeze.”

Foley sighed. “Anyway, you know who I mean. Back when we were in the kingdom we were buds. But then Dymes got all testy with some of our friends, and more of her Daddy’s personality came out, and she got banned. I know, like us, but not like us, because we never whined and whined to get back on.

“So, when I got back from walking with Tanner I go on Doggyweb and there was Dymes. She deleted it, but her first comments were so mean, attacking Tanner, attacking our other friends. And get this: Dymes said that she is getting reinstated to the Castle. I mean come on! There is no way Judge Judy would side for her when she didn’t side with me. As soon as she saw two grown men hiding behind cardboard cut-outs of lap dogs she’d have Bird toss them out on their butts.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Bird. Fowl language.”

“And he kept fighting with everyone,” Foley continued ignoring me. “I didn’t want Cocoa and Tanner’s Mom to see that. I was so upset, I defended Dymes before and now he was ruining everything, being hurtful and mean. So that’s when I decided to form our own space, private so no one could come in and hurt our friends again, and that’s what we have now, we’ve made the final leap home.”

“But what if Dymes sneaks on to our site like we did to the Castle?” I asked.

“Don’t worry. I have my paw right on the delete key.”

“But wouldn’t that make you like?????”

“Don’t say it!” Foley growled.

I kept my mouth shut. My butt was still sore. But I was worried. I know from having my toys stolen and having to leave the warm spot on the bed that Foley with too much power is a dangerous thing. Mommy then came in the room with our food and Foley hopped down to eat.

“Mommy?” I asked. “If Foley runs the site then what do I do?”

“Well,” Mommy said, “you know Foley is going to be watching over all the other dogs?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well we all need you to watch over Foley.”

And then I realized. I was the most powerful dog in the world.

Monday, May 25, 2009

The tale of the Tanner Brigade's daring raid on Princess castle

Gather around my children, I am going to tell you the story. I know you all want to hear it again. Yes the one about your Great, Great, Grandmother Foley and the daring raid the Tanner Brigade made on the Castle in Cyberland the night that Tanner went to Rainbow Bridge.

No, she’s not really your grandmother. Because she was neutered that’s why. Trust me, you don’t want to know what that is, but you will soon enough.

You see the Tanner Brigade were a bunch of rebels, most tossed out of the Kingdom, others working as double agents. The Kingdom’s rulers were evil. They banished Tanner to die alone in the woods. But he brought us all together, even though he was weak and tired.

All the members of the Tanner Brigade met in the woods just outside the Castle as Tanner was traveling to the bridge. We can still only use their code names, because the evil Princess sees all, like the eye of Sauron, but with a stigmatism: They were The General, Willie, Bubsy, Sage, Harley, Rocky. Rennat Redux, Butch, Trevor, and so many others this old mind can’t keep track.

Now do you want to know the truth? It wasn’t Foley’s idea to raid the castle that night. That came from a very wise dog that we will call R.M. Foley wasn’t sure about that idea. She was very wise, but the castle scared her. And they did not have anyway in.

Then the puppy seals spoke up. No, they weren’t seals, they were dogs trained by their leader Supersonic. They volunteered to swim across the moat and drop the drawbridge so the raiders could enter the castle.

The Tanner Brigade waited in the woods, and then they saw the drawbridge come down and got the paws up from the seals. “Go, go, go!” Foley yelled and the Brigade poured back into the kingdom. “Are you going too?” Pocket asked Foley and Foley said, “I think I should wait here.”

Pocket got in her face. “You can’t send dogs into battle and not go with them!” she said, Foley lay in the grass and began picking dirt from her paws. “You have to go Foley, you’re the leader, you can’t let them get caught.” “Oh, all right,” Foley said. “But you’re coming with me Pocket, if I get thrown to the wolves you’re going first.”

Foley ran into the castle, moving quickly, afraid she would get caught. She was asked her name and she said The General and they welcomed her. She moved about the walls stunned, because everywhere there were either pictures of Tanner Bub or the dogs that looked exactly like him.

She went to the wall where the pictures of the newest members were and she saw they were all of Tanner. She looked at the walls where dogs wrote messages and they were about Tanner too, and many of the dogs that had left the messages looked just like our Bub.

Then she could hear the shrieking coming from the top of the castle as Princess saw pictures everywhere of the dog she banished and she sent out her evil troops to find our brave pups as they scurried over the walls and across the drawbridge back to the darkness of the woods.

But Foley was spending so much time reading the tributes to her friend that she did not leave in time despite Pocket’s desperately trying to pull on her ears. They turned to leave and there were two of the Princess’ dogs looking down on them and both Yorkies got down covering their eyes with their paws.

They were waiting to be bit, to be dismembered, or worse, when suddenly there was a tiny white blur and the Princess’ dogs were knocked down and then both Pocket and Foley were picked up by the scruffs of their neck in tiny little teeth and they were whisked over the moat into the safety of the woods.

They landed gently and then Foley looked up at the tuxedo-clad dog that had saved them and she asked who he was and he said: “The name is Bond. Teddy Bond.” Foley asked him if she could get him anything for saving them and he asked for a bowl of water, shaken not stirred.

They made their way back to their camp but were stunned to see what was there: The whiniest, most self-pitying, self-hating, annoying, harassing, mean, immature, self-involved, obsequies, officious, oh my God not him agent Princess had and he was sitting in the middle of the camp saying the most hateful things about Tanner and his brigade.

All the dogs said leave, go, no one wants you here. But he stayed there barking, and growling, and hissing, and oh my God the whining, and soon the Tanner Brigade looked like it would be split up forever when Foley made a very big decision.

Like General Washington slipping away from Brooklyn Heights in the fog Foley and the Tanner Brigade slipped away to the depths of cyberspace where they could control who joins their brigade and never be bothered by Princess again, leaving her agent to sit alone in camp whining to the trees.

So where did the Tanner Brigade go? Well no one will say for sure. But legend is this is where you can find them:

“Wherever there's a guy beatin' a dog
Wherever a hungry newborn puppy cries
Where there's a fight 'gainst the puppy mills and dog stores in the mall
Look for me Pup I'll be there
Wherever there's doggy lookin' for a lap to lie
Or decent home or not to be tied
Wherever puppy's strugglin' to be free
Look in their eyes pup’s you'll see me”

`

Saturday, May 23, 2009

I'm Walking With Tanner (with my paws ten feet from the bridge)


Hey there Tanner! Nice to see you. Can you stand up? Good dog. Where are we? That doesn’t matter, all that matters is where we are going. How do you feel? Good? I thought so. Wow, look at you run. Bet you haven’t run like that for years. Wooooaa! Watch the biting! You want to play chase? OK let’s go.

Oh, hold on, I’m out of breath. Whew. I know you can keep going. Yeah, I know, it feels like you’re a pup again. What’s wrong? Yeah. I know, you’re a smart dog. Yeah, it happened. Yeah, we’re going to the bridge. Oh don’t cry Tanner. I know how much you’re going to miss your Mom.

You want to sit for awhile? Sure. We have time. Let’s lay down in the shade over there. Isn’t this a beautiful tree? Don’t worry, just lay down with me. Nothing can hurt you here, it’s just a path that dogs travel heading to the bridge. You thinking about your Mom? Yeah, I’m sure she’s thinking about you.

I wish she could go with you too. But it’s not her time yet. She will be fine, it will take time, you’re going to leave a big hole in her heart, but she’ll be fine. She has Cocoa, and she may get another dog soon, you have to help her with that. Don’t worry you’ll know how. And Sophie is going to miss you too. Yes, I’m sure she didn’t marry you just for the kibble.

You want to get moving again, we got some friends waiting for us. Hey, come over here, sniff the tall grass, oh there are no ticks just come. You can smell all our friends who passed here, it’s nice isn’t it? What’s that sound? That’s the little frogs that live in the stream that runs under the bridge. They’re calling you home.

Let’s just walk my friend. What would I miss the most? Well, most things are there, but Mommy’s lap. I would miss that. And bothering Pocket. Hey, come here, taste these flowers. I know! They’re bacon flowers! Man this place has everything. Yeah, except for Mommy, I know.

Yup, I hear it. That’s the water, it all flows under the bridge. That stream, that’s our lives, just water under the bridge. And the stones in there, that’s our souls. You see how the water washes over the stones? If you break the stones open, inside, they’re dry. You know why? Because all that water can never penetrate your soul, it’s just water under the bridge.

What’s that? Oh no, Princess will never be here. No, she’s not a real dog. Man, we did a job on her didn’t we? I don’t know if you know but a bunch of us snuck back into Cyberland and did tributes to you. Man, the Tanner Brigade invaded, it was so sweet.

You know, everything that happened, it was because of you. I wanted to be here for you, this day, I wanted to be here. My letter to Princess was so I could be here, this day. And when she “unforchunately” said no, well, that’s when it all started. Now I have a blog, we have Doggyweb and The Tanner Brigade. It was all you. You changed lives for the better. Most dogs just do that for their families, but you Tanner you did it for so many. There really should be a statue of you somewhere. Too bad we pee on statues.

Well, here we are. That’s the bridge. No, it’s not very long, but spans a great distance. Oh Tanner Bub, don’t look back. It’s all behind you. Breathe in the air, it makes it all go away. It all fades, and all you remember is the love, the good times. Do you remember Princess? No? That’s good. She’s not worth remembering.

Look on the bridge. No, silly, that’s no bear. That’s Moses. He guards the bridge. He is waiting for you. And behind him, there is Fred, it is good to see him. And Daisy, and Buttons. Oh, those little dogs behind them those are some of my family members, Jax, Copper and Sky, they can’t wait to meet you.

OK pal. It’s time. Come here, give me a nuzzle. That’s a good boy. Gosh, I am going to miss you. We rocked it together didn’t we? They have computers up here, get on line anytime, my ears will be open. OK, now, scoot, across the bridge you go, and remember on this side, there are lots of dogs and humans who love you very much, and when it’s our time to cross the bridge, you’ll be the first face we’re looking for.

I’ll be checking on your Mom every day, I promise. We will all help her through this, we will. It will be hard, but we will. Now go, I’ll see you soon, I’ll see you in my dreams.

I watched him cross. He got a big lick from Moses, and then from Fred and Daisy. You know, there’s a lot of .pollen up there. My eyes got very misty. The last thing I saw was my friend, running and playing on the other side of the bridge, chasing a firefly with Moses. I turned for home, already missing my friend

"fly on my sweet angel,
fly on through the sky,
fly on my sweet angel,
forever I will be by your side"

Friday, May 22, 2009

An e-mail from my rescued sister Jordan


Do any of you have the 365 Puppy-a-day wall calendar? If you do, take a look at this past week, see that adorable Yorkie in the bed, yes, that’s right. It’s your Foley Monster. But who is that handsome stranger next to her? Well that is one of my most favorite sisters: Jordan.

We adopted Jordan in late 2006 from the Shih Tzu and Furbabies Rescue group. My sister Copper had just died in her sleep and my parents didn’t want another puppy. They found Jordan who was 10, and had spent most of her life living in a crate on a farm in Oklahoma and used for breeding.

She had been fostered by two wonderful women, who had to teach her how to be a pet and not a farm animal. While in her cage she had her teeth become impacted causing her severe pain, and had lost her vision. It took a long time before she could go to a simple pet owner’s home, and we were lucky enough to get her.

I didn’t know what to make of her at first. She hated being on the floor, always running to a corner trying to hide. She had to learn how to go outside, how to walk on a leash, how to be a pet. But we became very close. We both had a lot of respect for each other. But there was one thing she never learned.

She hated being alone. She used to bark, shriek; rub her paws on the door until they were bloody. I tried to calm her down but she was so worried our parents weren’t coming back. As more time passed it took us longer to calm her down once our parents did come home. We became worried she was going to do some damage to herself.

We had to give her back to the rescue. It was a very sad day. But she needed someone with her all day long. Shih Tzu and Furbabies found someone near Worcester who fostered dogs and she took her and fell in love with her and she’s still with them. Yesterday I got this e-mail from her.

Dear Foley: I would ask you how you have been but one of my sisters reads your blog to me. What a little freedom fighter you have become. I am left to wonder, was it all that time you spent listening to my stories about being caged without love that has made you the puppy warrior you are today?

I am starting to forget those times, ‘cause I’m getting old, and I think that’s a good thing. I ‘member you, and Mommy and Daddy, and I do miss you all, but I’m happier here. I don’t get left alone nearly as much, and I’m not afraid any more. I was always worried they were going to come and take me back to that place; I’m not worried about that anymore.

I ‘member mostly the heat, and being thirsty, and that horrible black water, I’ll never forget the taste of that black water. Some days I just drink and drink and drink because the water here is so clear, so cold. It is wonderful. Don’t ever take water for granted.

And the heat: that sun would beat down on me in the cage. It was like my fur was burning. And since most of the time I was with pup, I was swollen and sore, and just lay there. And then the wire in the cage would heat up. It was awful. If there is a puppy hell for bad puppies that’s it.

And I was either pregnant or nursing all the time. At first I thought of them as my babies, but after three or four pregnancies a year they just became like ticks. I couldn’t grow attached to any of them; they were just going to ripped from me anyway. And I didn’t pay attention to the boys in particular because I was afraid I would recognize them when they were grown up and were shoved into my cage when I was in heat.

My life was miserable, but I didn’t know it. I thought I was just another beast of burden, like a donkey or pig, made to suffer for mankind’s fortune. I remember those last days, the horrible pain in my mouth, everything growing fuzzy. I knew I was close to something, although I had no idea about Rainbow Bridge. I thought I would just stop.

Then all the people came, and they peeled me off that cage. My hair was so matted. I couldn’t see. They touched my mouth and I howled. I was rushed to a vet and bathed, and shaved. I swear I thought they were going to execute me. Then they wheeled me in a room and then I grew sleepy and everything stopped.

I was real groggy for I don’t know how long. I was still in a cage, then those humans, who I had learned to hate, were being nice to me, holding me, and hugging me. I smelled so much better. I didn’t’ know what was going on, and I was scared ‘cause I was leaving the only life I ever knew, but I knew it was getting better.

Then my heat time came and nothing happened. I could have cried in joy. I could have cried because I would never have to have babies again, and I could have cried for all those babies I had that I had lost. I also could have cried because my long used nipples were hanging to the ground and very sore.

Then the woman came for me. She talked softly, held me gently, stroked me, I thought she was going to eat me. She brought me home, and there were other dogs there: In the house! On the furniture! With fresh water! They were groomed, combed, and bathed. They were well fed, happy and free. Obviously this woman was crazy.

Then the dogs started telling me that they lived in the house, slept in bed with the owner, that she fed them, sometimes-human food. That she would feed me, protect me, let me sit on the nice furniture, and love me. To me this was the craziest notion I ever heard, and every chance I got I tried to hide from these crazy beings, but slowly I learned, even if I hated being left alone on the floor, without a wire cage holding me in (I never knew what was coming for me.)

Then the Mommy told me I was going to be adopted because I had learned to eat out of a bowl, and drink the nice cold water, and do my business outside, and I had healed up nice from my surgeries. One day this person came and put me in the car and then I started traveling.

I saw so much of the country. It is much larger than just the flat dust of Oklahoma. There are pretty trees, and big rivers, and then when we went north these huge mountains. For a dog who never got out of a cage for nine years suddenly I was seeing more than most dogs ever get to see.

We went to a place named Rhode Island, and I was left at a lovely home with lots of Shih Tzus. I had no idea what those things were; they kind of freaked me out. I spent most of my time there on a chair, or following around the Daddy. I scampered so much on the floor the Mommy put a leash on me so she could catch me. I still had moves for a scared, old, toothless, blind lady.

Then one day, you came with your Mommy and Daddy, and they took me home with them. Mommy held me while you sat in the back all in a thither because you just had come from the vet after having your anal sacks pinched. Anal sack pinching! Bitch, please.

Then we got to your house, and I got scared all over again, because things were strange (at least to me). Remember that first night. I pooped the bed. Oh you did not like that. But I was nervous! Your Mommy and Daddy just changed the sheets and went back to bed. I knew right then I could trust these people.

I still couldn’t be left on the floor though. I loved being on the bed or the big recliner with Mommy but the floor? Hated it. So remember how Mommy got that blue stroller out and put me in it so I could be up high when they ate, and Mommy would push me from room to room when she did chores so I wouldn’t get lonely?

I loved those days. I know Daddy was sick, then right after that Mommy got sick, and I felt very worried for them, but we went a long time without being alone, and I got comfortable with that, and then they went back to work, and I kept having those nightmares about the bad men from Oklahoma, and I was making myself sick, throwing up, and cutting my paws on the door, and panting, and not calming down even when they came home. I don’t know what came over me. And then I started making you nervous, and you wouldn’t eat. Oh my. They said it was separation anxiety, and they tried different things but I couldn’t calm down. After talking with the people who rescued me, they found another home for me, and I had to leave you, which makes me sad.

So now I’m here, and, no offense, but I do seem to fit in better. There are lots of dogs, and I have found a soul mate and we watch over each other. The other dogs here have gone through what I went through so we all understand. But I do thank you and your Mommy and Daddy for all you did. And to answer your questions, I don’t know when I will go to the bridge, but when I do, I will introduce myself to all your friends, and yes, I will watch over your Tanner Bub for you.

Your forever sister
Jordan


For those of you who would like to visit the Shih Tzu and Furbaby rescue the link is on the side of the blog

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Pocket's big trial

By Pocket:

Yesterday Mommy got a bit of upsetting news. She is going to need her knee replaced again, after only seven years. She was crying, and I hate to see her cry. I got so angry I was forced to use bad language so if there are puppies reading cover their eyes: Ready? That doctor was a quack.

Mommy and Daddy were talking about getting a lawyer and I said “Mommy why do you need to get a lawyer when you have Foley and Pocket P.C. (Paws Council)?” She told me she needed to get a real lawyer. I protested but then she threw the ball and I ran after it. I lose lots of arguments that way.

I still think we should be her lawyers, and since Foley lost the very winnable case against Princess on Judge Judy, I should be the lead attorney. I know that I don’t have Foley’s experience so I need to prove myself. I created a trial to show her what a good lawyer I would be. Unfortunately I don’t know many humans so I have to use the ones on the TV shows Mommy watches as the witnesses, lawyers and judge.

My first witness is her original surgeon. Dr. Bruno Tonioli. I asked him why he did such a bad job with my Mom’s surgery and he said “After I operated on her she ran like a beautiful gazelle loose in the desert being chased by a red hot wildebeest with thoughts of raunchy passion trapped in a world of carnal lust.”

The opposing attorney, Len Goodman, stood up and said: “I object to all this nonsense, I just want straight testimony not all this gibberish, and your feet, left the floor there, I saw it.”

Judge Jackson then ruled: “Yo, Dawg, for me, for you, Dawg, I don’t know, I can’t say that’s your best argument, you know, for me, for me.”

I asked him if he was talking to me.

“No dog, not you dawg, not the dog, I meant dawg, not dog, you’re good dog, but dawg over here, he’s my dawg.”

I did not know if I was winning, or losing. Frankly I had no idea what was happening. I called my next witness, Mommy’s new surgeon Dr. Cowell, and I asked him what he thought of Dr. Tonoli’s job on my Mommy’s knee.

“Dreadful, absolutely dreadful, it was like surgery karaoke. If I’m to be totally honest, it was like getting operated on a cruise ship when someone’s drunk uncle grabs a scalpel and begins operating on people,” he said.

I thought this was good for our side, but then Judge Jackson began booing. “Excuse me Judge Jackson but you’re booing my witness.”

“No, no, Cowell, you’re wrong, he worked it out, he did his thing dawg,” Judge Jackson said.

“Did you mean me?” I asked.

“No not you dog, dawg dog.”

This was terrible news and I had let Mommy down but then I heard this little voice and there was a tiny bailiff with frosted tips, who was even smaller than me, who said his name was Mr. Seacrest, and that the judgment was up to you at home America and then gave two phone numbers to call, one for Mommy’s side and one for the bad Doctor’s side.

So what do you think America? How did I do with my first trial? The results…..after this.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

An open letter to Princess

Hi Princess. How are you? That’s good.

Well, it’s been almost a month since we parted. It did end rather poorly, didn’t it? I guess there’s plenty of blame to go around.

I have a new park now. No, it’s not as fancy as yours, no birthday reminders, or gifts, or groups. It’s a little clunky to get around. But we all like it very much. Mostly because we can bark what we want. We’re a rebellious group, we do like to bark our own opinions.

I don’t know how much you’d like it. There aren’t a lot of rules. I know you like rules. Structure can be a good thing for many dogs.

In your park, you got to make the rules and enforce them against whomever you wanted. I guess that made you the bully. And you were quite a good bully my friend. You bullied people to delete their profile, when they wouldn’t do that you just deleted them yourself. You turned good dog against good dog. Hey, you even had people so scared they deleted their profile on other sites. I mean really, a tip of the tail to you.

You still have your very strong, very virile park, while we have our little one. You have thousands of members, we dozens. Our little defections have probably not disrupted a blade of grass in your park.

But you couldn’t stay out of our park could you? You had to come slinking in (or at least someone doing your work), posting your picture, stirring up drama, scaring our scarred little dogs. Some, at the mere scent of you, were ready to abandon our park and run blindly into the woods.

Of course you’re presence was easily detected, the scent of weasel that drifted over us, the sky suddenly growing overcast, the poor spelling. A strong, sudden move, charging in at us, barking loudly, “I am here, fear me, run!”

Got to admit, not my style. What would I do? Well, funny you should ask. See, I’m a little dog, not powerful like you, I don’t need to stand in the middle of the pack and bark for attention. No, see what I would do is, say (hypothetically) that I figured once I began asking for e-mail addresses from other members so I could share with them your response to Tanner’s banishment, you would banish me in punishment.

Hypothetically, even before you realized what I was doing, I would use another computer, use another e-mail address, use another picture of a dog (not one found on Google, nothing as pedestrian as that) say a friend’s dog, and create a new profile so, when the day came I was banished from your park, I was actually still there, like you, hiding behind another dog.

So, you know, just thinking out loud here, while you have patrolled your park keeping everyone in order, one of your nicest, most subservient dogs would be, in reality the Foley Monster.

But why do this? Is your park just so cool I had to sneak in? No, see, you’re kind of predictable. I didn’t know how things would shake out, but I had a plan of action, and knew it would anger you, and you would seek retribution. So, while I waited, occasionally having my puppy make comments here and there, nothing too obvious (he’s kind of a dullard, by the way, that’s a clue) I would gather information about the Doggy Park you run.

What I didn’t count on, is the number of dogs who’d join me, dogs with connections I don’t have and man they found so much….boring information: company addresses, employees, home addresses, e-mail addresses, phone numbers, I mean stuff no one wants posted but still nothing earth shattering.

But I’ve got to think there’s more out there, and when it’s found, wouldn’t it be just the coolest thing if it was posted at 3:00 AM on a Sunday like McGyver’s was and sat there on your site for everyone to see. You got to admit, pretty cool. Unless, of course, you find out who I am. Just to make it fun, I left one blatant clue, and another that gives the name away, but you’ve got to be pretty savvy to pick it up.

But it doesn’t have to be. So here’s the deal: You stay out of our dog park, you stop bullying my friends and let us play in peace, and that hypothetical profile of mine will quietly disappear. But, if you insist on coming running into our park causing a commotion and scaring my friends, well then “game on” my friend. The ball is in your court.

As Woody said to Sid in Toy Story: “Play nice.”

Monday, May 18, 2009

Pocket and the sinister Chihuahua

By Pocket

I’ve been doing my best, trying to do my business outside, being the best dog a Pocket can be. Today I went outside, got in position, when suddenly a Chihuahua came running right up to my nose and went “Rouff!” I was so startled my water backed into my bladder. I have a hard enough time peeing where I should, never mind with someone barking right into my nose. How rude. I looked at this little black thing, with some expensive bling around his neck, and I said: “Brooksie?” and it said “Brooksie? What’s a Brooksie? I fart in your general direction.”

Well, I come from a long line of Yorkshire Terriers, English royalty, and if there is one thing a proper English lady will not tolerate it’s a Spaniard farting in their general direction, especially after interrupting a proper pee, which is almost as insulting as farting during tea. I then stoked up my considerable courage and ran away. When I reached the end of the flexi leash I jerked back and crashed to the ground. “Look at you little dog,” the Chihuahua said, “all tangled on your leash, and look at me, free to run back and forth, I expel gas towards your hind quarters.”

Now I was blind with rage, or I had dirt in my eyes, anyway I wasn’t seeing too good. It was time for my most powerful move. I dug in then charged at the offending Chihuahua, got right up to it’s face, and then turned and ran back. When I reached the end of the leash I turned, ran right up to it again, and then turned and ran back. The Chihuahua looked at Daddy and said: “What the hell is her problem?” Daddy just shrugged. “I have no time for you, you offensive little dog,” it said. “Your mother, she lay with a commoner.”

He then ran towards his house and I ran right after him dragging Daddy behind me yelling at that Chihuahua to get back here, get back here right now, when it turned and came back here right now. I turned and ran as fast as I could. I glanced in my window and saw Foley on the couch wearing a sombrero and waving a pennant that said “Kid Chihuahua” and now I was mad. I turned and charged at it and this time it ran towards it’s house as I barked my most learned curses. He then turned and faced me and said “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” I peed right there on the grass.

A door to the house opened and the owner said: “There you are Paco come on inside.” Paco stopped, farted in my general direction, and went inside.

“Well, at least you peed,” Daddy said.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

A special Saturday with my big little niece Mia

By Foley:

Oh my gosh, yesterday was such a day. I was ready for the usual Saturday of getting a bath, slipping under my blanket while Mommy and Daddy went out, then getting as much lap time as I could. Well, after my bath, I started getting the snorts, and had them for like 20 minutes. I knew I upset Mommy and Daddy but the spray Mommy put on me so I’m soft and smell good got all in my nose. I did get a lot of good petting and loving though.

But after that I just wasn’t hungry. Mommy and Daddy hate when I don’t eat. I turned down my kibble and turkey so Mommy replaced it with fresh chicken but I just nosed it around the plate. Then Daddy got down on his hands and knees and tried to feed me by hand. I took it in my mouth, chewed it then spit it out. I was wondering if I could make them do handstands and sing Gregorian Chants in their efforts to feed me but they finally caved and I stood triumphant: Malnourished but triumphant.

Then guess what? Instead of leaving, they got the leashes and took Pocket and me with them. Was it Groomer day? Walk time? We were in the car for a half hour then got out and there was our new sister in law Lisa and my puppy niece Mia. I have seen Mia but never got to sniff her. She’s a big dog. Heffalump huge.

We met in the yard. I walked over to her, looked up and said “Hey Mia, whatcha’ doin?” and Mia said “fixin’ to take a dump.” And then she did. It was bigger than me. Pocket was running back and forth barking her head off and we just ignored her. Mia and I did some sniffing and it was very enjoyable. For a big dog she was really quite sweet.

We walked into their house while Daddy desperately tried to get Pocket to pee. I had wondered what happened to my brother. They have a wonderful place, although they’re kind of sticklers about dogs on the couch. Poor Mia. Then again, she is bigger than the couch.

Oh, we had a wonderful time. We saw the wedding on the TV. We had a cook out. Mia is a wonderful addition to the family, sweet, kind, beautiful, with brown soulful eyes. She’s the biggest dog I’ve ever been friends with and I’m so happy for it.

She told me she’s a little confused, she just moved into her house last week and it has previous dog smells and she keeps trying to find that dog. There are stairs in the house and she’s had several knee surgeries so it hurts to go up and down, but it’s getting better. Plus when she stands at the top of the stairs and looks down it’s scary. And her Daddy’s only been living with them a month and there’s been lots of changes. But she loves her Mommy and Daddy, even if they are overprotective of her, and she’s getting happier and more content each day. The most important thing is how much love she has, that’s all us dogs want anyhow.

When we left we went to Target. Mommy went shopping, Daddy stayed in the car, and Pocket and I barked at everything that moved. They make all those windows in cars so puppies can see everything around them. Then we went to Pet Smart. People kept coming up to us, petting us, talking about how soft our fur was, and I loved the attention.

Then we came home, I had a big supper, and went for a long sleep. Meeting new family members is wonderful, but tiring.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Community Guideline

Foley: Now that Pocket and I have our own site where any dog can leave comments we think that it is vitally important that we set Community Guidelines for all dogs posting on this site. These Guidelines are here to make your posting experience a rewarding and fulfilling one.

Pocket: There is no need for Community Guidelines. Someone is on an Alpha Dog power trip again. Just everybody keep doing what they are doing. We love all your comments and don’t want you to stop.


Foley: Number One – No nudity or sexual conduct. Hey you there! That lollipop in the back who’s nursing, stop it right now. That is smutty. And for god sakes put a shirt on. I see so many nipples it’s like Janet Jackson’s family reunion. And those of you who haven’t been neutered cover up those red rockets right now!

Pocket: Don’t stop nursing. It is a wonderful thing you are doing. You aren’t harming anyone at all. And boys: We don’t want to scare off children, so discretely brush your fur to cover up.

Foley: Number two - No bird talk. I don’t want to be reading anything about your parrot, your chicken, your cock-a-too, your mother’s turkey recipe, Grandpa feeding the ducks, pigeon races, swan boat rides, endangered bald eagles, the writings of Mother Goose, or any other fowl stuff.

Pocket: My gosh! She’s bossy. I don’t think there is anything wrong with fowl talk, I could talk turkey all day, that fowls tasty.

Foley: Number three - No threatening, bashing, or demoralizing Foley. I don’t care what you do to one another but please don’t hit me. And don’t threaten me either, especially with a rolled up newspaper, I hate that. And don’t demoralize me, I don’t know what that means but it sounds nasty so don’t do it.

Pocket: Oh Foley. For heaven’s sake, every time Daddy brings in the newspaper you act like you’re about to get a whack. No one has ever hit you with anything. And demoralizing? When I’m in your way and you say: “Move it Miss Poops her Pants,” that’s demoralizing.

Foley: Number four – No obscene names or nicknames can be used. Like Twitter, Muffy Driver, Sir Licks-a-lot, Tits McGee, Pussy Galore, Belly Rubber, Captain Butt McSniffy, Humpty Dumpty, Fred Gassit, Neuter Boy, Woodpecker, Scooby-Poo, and Prince-ass (kudos to Teddy Earnest).

Pocket: And Michael Vick and Glynn Johnson too!

Foley: No forming of an opinion that is not mine, no talking about me behind my back, no e-mailing people with content in any way demeaning my character, no saying anything that is not agreed upon by everyone, no free speech, no freedom to bark, no nothing.

Pocket: Oh Foley, isn’t this why we started our own blog? Isn’t this what Erin was talking about in her wonderful blog? We all know you are a princess Foley, but you don’t want to turn into Princess do you?


Foley: Oh, OK. You’re right. I got carried away. Dogs can bark whatever they want here. We’ll get rid of all those other silly rules and just have the one about hitting me, and not using those two bad names you mentioned. Now get out of the way and let me lie in the sun Poops her Pants.

Pocket: Sigh.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Mickey Red Fish swims to Rainbow Bridge

Our fish died this morning. His name was Mickey Red Fish. We called him that because he was red. I used to go over and watch him swimming back and forth…..oh who am I kidding it was a fish! It was in a vase with a plant on top of it. The poor thing got zero lap time. It wouldn’t come out and play, it never stopped taking a bath, the thing shouldn’t even of been called a pet. It was a screen saver with a heart. You’ve got to know when you’re a pet and you hear Mommy’s making supper and she says she’s frying up some of your cousin Felix’s family that you’re not the most beloved member of the clan.

I really didn’t have much interaction with Mickey. Occasionally, in the morning, if I am enough of a bother, I can get Daddy to put me up on the table so I can get a good scratch and be Pocket free, and I’d look over at Mickey, and he’s say to me, “I’ll give you $50.00 if you break the vase and I’ll try to slide my way to the door.” I did not take him up on the offer. I seriously doubt he had that kind of money floating about. Once a month Mommy would change his water, he was such a fuss-budget, and that was time she could have been giving me lap.

Now Mommy says they are going to have to go out and get a new fish. I am sorry but this offended me a little. Why go out and buy a fish when you can adopt one of the millions of fish in the ocean who are in need of a good home? But no, not Mommy and Daddy: no, they are going to run out to some place like Pet Smart and slap down three or four dollars for overly bred fish that probably came from a fishie mill where it’s poor Mom lives in a coffee mug, breeds 400 times a year, and has babies who think living in a vase with a plant on top with six inches of swimming space is a sweet deal!

This morning we all walked over to the toilet with him so he could begin his journey to Rainbow Bridge. When we puppies die we bounce off the moon, fly over the sun, and peacefully land beyond Rainbow Bridge. When you’re a fish you make a break for it like Tim Robbins in the last act of Shawshank Redemption. Mommy said how Mickey was a tough little fish, how each morning she expected him to be tits up (excuse me, I’m not sure about fish tits, but if they exist, they sound like they’re made by Nabisco) but he always gave my Mom a little wave of his tail saying “I’m still here.” She then poured him into the bowl and gave him a three flush salute because he was a great fish and Daddy overstuffed the john again.

I guess I will miss you Mickey Red Fish. Do a flip out of the water and say hi to Moses, Barge, Buttons, Daisy, and my other bridge friends. At least your swimming free, my little friend.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

My life - Pre and post The Incident

By Pocket:

Before the incident I would arise each morning, go outside to do my business, do a tad more inside behind a recliner or on the linoleum where it would await a thinly socked foot, and sit down over a bowl of kibble to check out the latest issue of the Puppy Weekly Digest. I‘d then go on the computer to share morning thoughts with the lovely Zoe Boe. I’d check with Wishbone to see how the chick-chick business was doing. I’d learn about how to bling out my page from Erin. I’d learn how to act like a big dog from Moses, Barge and Daisy; and play like a newborn from Matilda. I’d check on my sick friends Tanner and Casper and say a little prayer for them. I’d get my words of wisdom from Teddie Earnest. I’d learn about foreign lands from Luca and Junior. I’d laugh with Blazer, Mollie and Bentley. I’d say my prayers with Shadow. Then I’d find a warm place and lie in the sun.

Then came the incident: The DS war, and Foley and I were on the front lines, fighting for what we believed was right, and we were suspended, diluted, deleted, slandered, libeled, wasted, wounded, defiled, deflated, brutalized and sent to the hinterlands in punishment for our role in the uprising.

And now my life is so very different: I arise each morning, go outside do my business, do a tad more inside behind a recliner or on the hardwood floor to keep them guessing and sit down over a bowl of kibble and check out the latest issue of the Puppy Weekly Digest. I then go on the computer to share morning thoughts with the lovely Zoe Boe. I check with Wishbone to see how the chick-chick business is doing. I learn about how to bling out my page from Erin. I learn how to act like a big dog from Moses, Barge and Daisy; and play like a newborn from Matilda. I check on my sick friends Tanner and Casper and say a little prayer for them. I get my words of wisdom from Teddie Earnest. I learn about foreign lands from Luca and Junior. I laugh with Blazer, Mollie and Bentley. I say my prayers with Shadow. Then I find a warm place and lie in the sun.

You see, all that drama, it was caused by humans. Humans are funny. They get upset, they shake their stubby little fists towards the sky, they fart and curse. Next thing you know we don’t have our friends any more, and then a couple of days later, we do again. The place where we meet is a little different, but the friends are the same, and that’s all that matters. That whole conflagration they started was a bunch of sound and fury signifying nothing.

We’re dogs, we’re part of nature, and everything that happened boils down to that age-old question of nature vs. numb nuts. We’re loyal, to you, and to one another, and no matter how many sites we are barred from, how many crash, are deleted, or even when we pass to the bridge, we will find one another, because we are friends, now and forever.

Can’t wait for the morning when I can catch up with all my friends again, and see what new ones appear.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Fowl stories with fowl language

The other morning Daddy and Mommy were looking out the window to our back yard. “ I wonder what has the slope noses attention,” I thought as I walked over to look out the sliding back doors. Then I saw it, standing under the bird feeders my neighbor had spent so much time critter-proofing, eating the bird feed cleaned out by the squirrels, a great, big, fat, wild turkey. “Quick,” I said to Pocket, “run upstairs and get my shotgun!” “You don’t have a shotgun,” Pocket said, “Mommy wouldn’t let you have one.” Oh to be a right wing conservative Yorkie in a left wing liberal household. “Then let’s dart outside and attack it. I’ll take the soft tender meaty underbelly while you go for the sharp, vice like beak. “Oh I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Pocket says. Danm her intermittent bursts of common sense. Then we settled down to watch it gobble it’s way through lunch, until it waddled back into the woods. We decided to name it so we’ll know what to call it next time it snacks in our yard. We’re going to call that fat turkey Levi.



Then on Monday Pocket and I got fowled again. We were on our walk around the youth softball fields when we spotted, playing centerfield on a vacant diamond, a Canadian Goose. Now I have a fine relationship with them, I help them find the greenest grass to feast on, they poop on the heads of my enemies. But Pocket has yet to reach this level of friendship with our feathered friends. She ran to the fence and barked, barked, barked. The goose turned to her and went bah, bah, bah, bah: Being fluent in both languages I knew Pocket was saying: “Hey, hey, hey, hey” and the Goose was saying “Bah, bah, bah, bah.” Then the Goose began to strut across the outfield, and Pocket stood on her back two legs and tried to copy her and planted herself on her face. Now she was angry. She got up and began sticking her nose under the fence growling. The Goose, who must of thought she had encountered a chipmunk with a glandular problem spread out her wings a bahed back loudly. Then she reached down between her legs and pulled out a gosling, which she placed on her beak. She then flicked her head in the air and the bird flipped over landing right in front of Pocket. Now Pocket was trying to charge the field and it took all of today’s somewhat embarrassing lack of strength to pull this five pounds of hell away from the field and back towards our car. When we got back into the car for the ride home I asked Pocket why she got so upset and she said: “Oh Foley, you know how much I hate to be flipped the bird.”

Monday, May 11, 2009

McGyver's Fowl Language; Prayer Chain; How we're making Daddy like Ty Murray and Today's Walk

By Pocket

A dog I didn’t know very well, McGyver, got banished from Cyberland today, or taken behind the bushes by Princess’ firing squad and shot. I read a journal he wrote over the weekend and oh my! He used words we definitely don’t use in the bible. But I don’t know why he was eliminated. He didn’t use fowl language. It’s not like he said flamingo. Or feasent.
One of the things I most miss since being banished from Cyberland is the Puppy Prayer Chain presided over by the Minister of Love Fonzie Tuxedo. Now I find myself worried about the chain. You can only ask for prayer if you do so from the Prayer Chain page, and unless you get a blood test, certification of kennel cough vaccination, two forms of accepted ID and are directly related to one of Kevin Bacon’s dogs, you can’t comment on it. But Foley and I, having been merely banished, can comment on everyone’s posting: see no membership has its privileges. So we’d like to say: our thoughts and prayers are with Simba, may you get healthy and marry Morgan because that pup could use a decent break; we have our paws pointed upwards for Meeka’s human brother who has been made very sick from complications from the flu, and we still send our deepest sympathies on the loss of his Dad, such a sad time for poor Meeka; we’ll be praying for Sandy’s brother Bo to make it through surgery safely; and for Judy and her dog Hollie who broke her heart when she had to go to the bridge. Safe passage to the bridge my friend, and no matter where we are we will always be sending healing energy to those left behind like Hollie’s poor Mom. I hope people are still able to post and respond on the Chain page because I know the kind words on it have helped pup parents immensely.
Foley and I are turning our poor Daddy into a cross between a Vulcan and that robot cowboy on Dancing with the Stars. Last night the Celtics and Bruins were playing off and the Red Sox were on. Foley and I will not tolerate any loud noise and when he jumps or yells we give him the dirtiest look and slowly growl. When Big Baby hit the winning shot for the Celtics last night the most emotion he could show was raising a fist in the air like an old man with a cramp in his hand signaling a waiter so he can send back soup in a deli.
I went for a walk today. It was at a schoolyard after school hours. We went by this playground where there were a bunch of little kids behind a fence. They must have been locked up for some reason. Probably didn’t clap the erasers correctly. That’s what they lock you up for in school, not clapping the erasers properly. Foley went right over to the fence and the little children put their stubby little fingers through the holes in the fence and began to scratch her. But I kept running up to the fence and when the kids reached for me I ran away. The warden then called the children back over and Daddy continued on his walk with us. Daddy called me a walk tease. I don’t know what that means.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

For our Mom

By Foley Monster:

It’s Mother’s Day, so this is for best woman in the world: My Mom. There are so many things she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is, that’s why she never posts pictures of herself, which is such a shame because none of you get to bask in her beauty. She doesn’t like going on Facebook and seeing her picture, which is why my face (which I have no problem with, no one puts mirrors low enough in my house to see my beautiful face so it’s the only time I get to see what you see everyday: the glory of me.) Daddy doesn’t like to put his face online either, but that’s because he’s a grotesque loser who would make people close a window quicker than if a twister was coming.

My Mommy didn’t rescue me. I was living on a farm as happy as could be when I was a pup, but one day she came wandering into the yard and I bounced over to her and began scratching her ankles and from that minute it was love. When I was a puppy should take care of me and when she got older boy did I take care of her. She had multiple surgeries on her knees, ending with two replacements. I lay with her on the couch every day while she was stuck there, through the people who came to the house to stick her with needles, to the people who came to torture her with knee bending exercises, and walked with her when she took those painful little steps.

She was struggling from pain from all of that and then came the cancer. I didn’t like that at all. But I helped her get better from that too and now things are going on pretty well. My Mom gives me everything I could want: A warm bed to snuggle with her, a lap of kindness, wonderful food, and she makes me what I am, the most wonderful little dog in the entire world. I have so much to thank her for. Plus: as many of you know, she’s not afraid of nothing. If she thinks something is wrong she keeps fighting against those oppressing others. I am so proud of her and her causes.

She has rescued two dogs in the past, one who passed, the other we had to give up because she needed full time attention. She has held more than her share of dying puppies in her arms and they have broken her heart every time. Pocket is not a rescue because Mommy and Daddy wanted a break with an easier dog. HAH! Did that not work out. But Mommy still loves Pocket even when she’s saying Pocket don’t do this, Pocket don’t do thing, oh good God Pocket don’t do that.

The past two weekends she’s watched her son, who she loves almost as much as me, and who got married three weeks ago, picking up more and more of his things, and while she is happy for his new life, again, her heart breaks a little with each item removed, with each time she walks down stairs as the room becomes emptier. So that’s why I had my Dad write this tonight, even though he said “Foley, the Sox, the Celts and the Bruins are all playing tonight.” I bit him on the thumb and made him do it.

So this is for you Mom, it’s over due, and, I’m just gonna, come right out and say it, but if your want it to be a sad blog, well I ain’t gonna write it.

Pocket and I love you, we wouldn’t have another Mom for all the kibble in China. And in those days when you feel that nobody appreciates were look into our bright baby browns and know we see the most wonderful woman in the world….of course all us puppies do.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

The Incredible Yorkahulk

By Pocket:

I don’t understand much of what’s been going on lately. My doggy profile is in a new place and I do like it. There are so many friends there. I am sharing it with Foley, and as you can tell, she’s a bit of a bloggr hogger. Oh and I peed on a woman’s leg who was wearing a black robe and she yelled at me. Everybody needs to calm down and get back to what we used to do. Like me, I don’t have the orange ball with the Donald Trump comb over any more, and now I don’t care what colored balls I put in my mouth. Lately I’ve been chasing the green ball. See, you can adapt to things, new sites, green balls.

I just don’t want to be fighting with everyone any more. Can’t we all just get along? Foley was on the Google today and writing down stuff. I don’t like to see her so worked up about these things. She is like a dog with a bone. She is coming over here now and she has that look on her snout.

I’m telling her I don’t care what just happened I don’t want to hear about it. I’m one mellow Terrier. What’s that? Wishbone and Puppy were suspended for posting the address of someone while they were trying to find a home for an abandoned dog. Wishbone and Puppy? Those two marvelous dogs who do so much for homeless puppies. YOU’RE TELLING ME THOSE FESTERING GOBUTITS SUSPENDED WISHBONE AND PUPPY! ROOOOOARRRRRR!”

(This is Foley Monster. I don’t know what happened. Pocket just grew about ten times in size and her fur has turned green and her eyes a bright red. Oh my God! She has become the Incredible Yorkahulk.)

ALL RIGHT LISTEN UP. WISHBONE AND PUPPY WILL HAVE THEIR ACCOUNTS RENEWED RIGHT NOW YOU HEAR ME. GENERAL MCCLELLAN MAY NOT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO TAKE FREDRICKSBURGH BUT I SURE CAN. I’LL KEEP PEEING IN THE POTOMAC UNTIL IT OVERFLOWS. I SAID YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M ANGRY, AND GUESS WHAT? I’M ANGRY. I WAS PUT HERE TO DO TWO THINGS. KICK ASS AND CHEW DENTAL BONES AND I’M FRESH OUT OF DENTAL BONES.

(This is Foley again, she seems to be shrinking and returning to normal eye and fur color. I think she is going to be OK.)

Wow, I must have taken a nap. Anyway, as I was saying, we just all need to get along, and be friends, no matter what site we are on. Oh Foley, you’re chewing my bone could you please stop. Hmmm. Foley, for the first time ever, just gave up the bone and ran upstairs. How strange, she always fights me. For some reason she doesn’t want to get me angry. I’m more confused then ever. Hmm. I’ve got a green paw. Maybe my green ball is leaking. Better find out why.

Gotta run.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Foley v. Princess is settled on Judge Judy

The plaintiff is Foley Monster: She says she was illegally banned from an Internet site for dogs and she wants to be allowed back on. (Foley and Pocket walk in and stand behind a desk.)

The defendant is Princess: She owns the Internet site and she says she can do whatever she wants. (Someone carrying a cardboard cut out of a Yorkshire Terrier comes in wearing a curtain.)

It’s the case of the Yapping Yorkies:

(Judge Judy comes in, sits behind the bench, and looks at the file then looks up.)

Judge Judy: OK. It is my understanding that Ms. Monster is suing Ms Princess over access to an internet social network for dogs that Ms Princess is asking we do not refer to by name and we will respect those wishes. Now what is this? An Internet site for dogs? Bird….what is this Internet site for dogs I don’t understand?.

Bird: Grumble, mumble, don’t know, never heard of it before chuckle, chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.

Judge Judy: Internet community for dogs, now I’ve seen everything. And you, Ms. Monster thinks you should be let on to the site by Ms. Princess over here. (She looks at Ms. Princess.) Excuse me, Ms. Princess, but are you even a real dog?

Princess: Yes, I am a real dog. Bark bark!

Judge Judy: Because from here you look like some guy hiding behind a curtain holding a picture of some dog you found on the Internet.

Princess: No, me very real, me growl at you. Growl.

Judge Judy: Whatever. I don’t have time for this. I will here you Ms. Monster.

Foley Monster: Thank you your honor. I was a member of this Internet site for dogs.

Judge Judy: Excuse me Ms. Monster but in this courtroom you stand when you address the judge.

Foley Monster: I am standing your honor.

Judge Judy: Oh, I see you are. Bird give her a treat.

(Bird walks over and gives Foley a treat.)

Princess: Can I have a treat your honor?

Judge Judy: YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A MOUTH WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE HIM TO STICK THE TREAT MIAMI? OK, Ms, Monster you can continue.

Foley Monster: Well I posted this journal and my friend Tanner Bub wrote something he shouldn’t….

Judge Judy: What’s a Tanner Bub?

Foley Monster: He’s my friend. He’s a very sick dog.

Judge Judy: Well I am very sorry to hear that but I don’t have time to name all your sick friends just get to the part where you were banned from the Internet site.

Foley Monster: Well, I sent my friends a message to e-mail me, and they did, and I told them how Princess was very mean to the sick dog and then I started a blog to tell people about it.

Judge Judy: A what?

Foley Monster: A blog.

Judge Judy: A blog? Bird, help me out here, what’s a blog?

Bird: Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle, Blog, chuckle chuckle.

(Judge Judy looks over to where Foley is and sees a dog with it’s paw in the air)

Judge Judy: Put your paw down. Who is this anyway?

Foley: It’s my sister Pocket. She got her account deleted too.

Judge Judy: Is this true Pocket did you get your account deleted?

Pocket: Yes I did can I have a treat?

Judge Judy: Just a minute so did you share an account?

Pocket: No I had my own can I have a treat?

Judge Judy: And you were deleted because of something she did?

Pocket: Yes, now can I pleeassseeee have a treat?

Judge Judy: Give her one. (Bird throws a treat and Pocket scampers after it) This is why I never get involved in dog cases. So Ms. Monster why do you say it was unfair for Ms. Princess over here to delete your profile?
Foley: Princess says I disobeyed the community guideline but the only thing I did on that site was ask for e-mail addresses, everything else was done in private e-mail or blog postings. So how could I have broken the community guidelines if I didn’t do it on the website?

Judge Judy: Did you receive a notice that you had broken the guidelines?

Foley: No, I went to sign on one day and it said I was on 14 day suspension and then two days later my account was gone.

Princess: Your honor we always let our users now they are being suspended.

Judge Judy: IS ANYONE TALKING TO YOU MS. PRINCESS? So you never posted anything after asking for the e-mail addresses of your friends?

Foley: I sent a gift to a friend on their birthday but that is it.

Judge Judy: All right Ms. Princess. What is your side of this?

Princess: First of all: your honor the entire thing is unforchunit.

Judge Judy: It’s what?

Princess: It’s unforchunit.

Judge Judy: What?

Princess: Unforchunit.

Judge Judy: What?

Princess: Un-forch-u-nit.

Judge Judy: Bird, what word is that?

Bird: Mumble, mumble, chuckle, don’t know, chuckle, chuckle.

Princess: I object!

Judge Judy: Object to what?

Princess: Fowl language.

Judge Judy: Fowl language? What are you talking about fowl language.

Princess: Bird, it’s a fowl word, I don’t allow it on my site.
Judge Judy: Princess, have you had any sort of formal education at all?

Princess: I went to Germanna Community College in Virginia.

Judge Judy: And at that Community College did they teach you how to spell?

Princess: Yes. In fact I one the speling bea.

Judge Judy: Oh I doubt that very highly, very highly Ms. Princess. Now tell me, why did you delete Ms. Foley’s and Ms. Pocket’s accounts, specifically how did they break the community guidelines.

Princess: They broke the most important guideline, they made me mad.

Judge Judy: And you think just because you get made at someone it gives you the right to throw them from your site even though they have made hundreds of friends there who miss them and want them back?

Princess: Yup.

Judge Judy: Ms. Princess, I have to point out, that you are not actually what you appear.

Princess: What do you mean?

Judge Judy: I MEAN YOU’RE A MAN UNDER A CURTAIN HOLDING UP A CARDBOARD CUT UP OF A YORKIE! Do you even own a dog?

Princess: Yes, of course, I love dogs.

Judge Judy: Then why not have them come here instead of hiding behind this fake dog?

Princess: I don’t want my dogs hanging out with a bunch of dogs that have parents that post stories about their dogs on the Internet. I don’t want them hanging out with that bunch of losers.

Judge Judy: But this is a site for social interaction isn’t it?

Princess: Right, but eureka, I’ve come up with a great idea. There should be two degrees of separation in social networks, but we only have one, but we are thinking of making it three so only your friends but not your friend friends can see it and the we settled with four degrees of separation so the only person who can see your profile is you. So, when you can only be friends with myself there are no arguments. I lost my virginity that way.

Judge Judy: Well I think that is very unfortunate.

Princess: What?

Judge Judy: Unfortunate.

Princess: What’s that word?

Judge Judy: Never mind Ms. Princess, I have other things to do today, I don’t have time for you. Now as for you Ms. Foley and Ms. Pocket while I sympathize with you and your friends Princess owns the site and he can do whatever he wants with it, no matter how misguided that is. So in your suit I am going to find in favor of the defendant and…..Bird, is something leaking?. (Judge Judy looks down) Pocket? Did you just pee on my leg?

Pocket: No your honor I think it is raining.

Judge Judy: Pocket do not pee on my leg and tell me that it’s raining. Now go back over there with Foley. (Pocket goes back over with Foley.) Now as for your counter-suit for lost wages Princess, you are asking for lost wages of $15,697.83. What is that for?

Princess: That’s a day wages for coming here.

Judge Judy: That is how much you make a dog off this dog site?

Princess: It’s out slow season your honor.

Judge Judy: Counterclaim dismissed. Good day.

(Pocket and Foley leave the courtroom. From the distance they here) Judge Judy: Bird I just stepped in dog poo while leaving the bench.

Bird: Oh, chuckle, chuckle, poo, chuckle, chuckle.

Princess: Fowl language again. Delete. Delete.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

The dreaded T word

By Pocket

I don’t know what has happened. For the past week Mommy, Daddy and Foley have been hogging the computer. They have been barking loudly, typing furiously, and even barking cuss words when the ‘puter ain’t acting right. Finally today the three of them all curled up on the floor to sleep and I got on the ‘puter and I couldn’t get on Doggyspace. And you know why? ‘Cause of something Foley did: Now is that fair? First I have to put up with her twittering her gas under the covers at night and I have to come up gasping for air like a coal miner emerging after the canary just died, and now she cut me off from my friends.
And worse than that my Mommy and Daddy were talking last night and they said the dreaded “T” word: Trainer. Why oh why would I need a trainer? The incessant barking? Nah! The squeaking like a squirrel stuck in a bear trap whenever someone comes home? Nah! The peeing on the floor? Nah! The crapping on the floor? Well maybe.
But they are going to try to make me calm and dismissive and no one should ever be either. Was David calm and submissive when fronted by Goliath? I say no. Were the English in the face of the Blitz? I say no. Were those who fought for civil rights? I say no. Did any of them think it was OK just to pee and crap where they stood? Ummm….
So I am going to talk with Mommy and Daddy and tell them I don’t need a trainer. I am not going to do any of those annoying things or pee or poo on the floor ever again.
Ever.
Hey what’s the wet and warm stuff I’m lying in? Oh crap. Really. About a foot from the door there’s crap. Smells like mine. OK so I am going to start not peeing and crapping on the floor right now!



Uh-oh.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

An encore performance by the D Space Band

I’ve been neutered and deleted and neither was pleasant but at least I was asleep when I got neutered and got pain medication. I saw this coming last week and prepared so no surprises.

Before I bring on the DS alumni band for an encore let me take a minute of your time.

Please understand: This all started with the DS administers refusing to give Tanner back his profile considering he had been a member for so long and was sick. Tanner did nothing wrong. His Mom put the alias of a former DS owner’s name in a comment. That comment was made after 11:00 PM and deleted before 8:00 AM (EST). Nowhere in the community guidelines does it say you cannot give the name of another dog owner, and since the dog supposedly no longer has a profile, what was the harm? His Mom needed support and that’s what social networks are for. Many of you have read the strange, disturbing response, and that put us on the road to where we are now. I felt like I had to take a stand and don’t regret any decision I have made.

This blog is not going to be an anti Doggyspace site every day. Hopefully the encore will be the end of DS posts here. I have book marked lots of pages and will be commenting on journals and profiles. I don’t believe we have ever insulted another pup in a comment or journal and have certainly never had it done to us. 99% of Doggyspace users are wonderful caring people and I do not expect anyone to leave out of a sense of loyalty to us. I think 99% is a pretty good average for any social network, but on a site with thousands of people, that one percent adds up.

Finally, before I bring on the band, I would like to thanks certain dogs and people, in this paragraph, or in the encore. Thank you so much Willie, such a young pup, wise beyond your years, I hope we’re always in touch, and, since we were going to have a phony cyberspace wedding, Foley will always consider herself Mrs. Willie Monster; also Wishbone, keep up with the chicks, man; Tadertot, if you’re reading this, send me an e-mail, you’re a great friend and I miss you; Same thing for you Benjamiso, you were a burst of sunshine each day; You too Petey, my neighbor; Thank you so much, you’re friendship will always be treasured 12, Chappy and Whiskey; Barge at the Bridge, don ‘t you go forgetting about me and I won’t forget about you; Baarney, we’re friends for life; keep dancing Beaux Jangles; I’ll miss you Brookie, you are one snazzy dog; Chase, you are wise beyond your years, thank you for being a friend; Einstein and Taz, stay healthy and stay strong; the Min Pin’s, continue the great work you do: You make us all proud and it was an honor to have your profile as my friend; Raider – Tom Brady tucked that ball, admit it, someday if you’re near the Dirty Water in the summer give me a call and we’ll go to a Sox game, have a beer, and sing Sweet Caroline; Willow, I will miss you greatly, thanks for the memories; Daisy at the Bridge, I will miss your company; Kolchak, thanks for keeping me free of the zombies; Reba and Abner, what can I say, you are what is best of DS. I am sorry if I have forgotten you, but there are more tributes to come as the band plays so keep reading.

And just two things to my dear friend Princess. Taking badges away because people don’t post; probably because they are ill or a family member is or they are working to support their family or a million other legitimate reasons is a dick move you putz, and F7 is spell check.

And now I bring to you the earth shaking, air conditioner breaking, heart breaking DS All Star Band: Hit it boys:

“Pocket’s on the ‘puter
Foley Monster searching for her groove
She’s strutting with her best boy Willie
Telling him it might be time to move
Well everybody better steer clear of us that’s all
I’m on Princess’ bad side
Got my back to the wall
Doggyspace freeze out, Doggyspace freeze out

I’ve been banished from the castle
Tired of being censored by the villains
The night is dark but our path is bright
Lined with the light of the Furminators
From an unfriendly doggy an unruly comment is cast
Made a post and someone hit the delete button way too fast
I walked into a
Doggyspace Freezeout
Doggyspace Freezeout
And we’re all alone we’re all alone
(and Princess says) And kyd ewe betta git tha pitcher
We’re on our own, we’re on our own
And we can’t go home”

I want to go to that riverside
I want to find that river of love
I want to find that river of life
I want to find that river of hope
I want to find that river of faith
Tonight I want to go to that river of friendship and companionship
I want to find that river of joy
And that river of happiness
And that’s why we’re blogging night after night after night after night
Because I want to go there with you

So tonight we are going to throw a Doggyspace Exorcism
A cleaning of our doggy space souls
A cleaning of our doggy space hearts
We’re going to do it all here, gonna set you free, set you free

Pocket and I came to a bridge on the river by a dark grove of trees
We were afraid to pass through those trees because we knew on the other side the river of life was waiting
But we stood paralyzed by our own fears
Then this doggy crossed the bridge and told me he was Buttons from the Bridge
And he told me what we needed was a brigade

And that’s why I am so glad to introduce to you tonight some of the finest member of the DS nation:

The pretty Lhaso Apso who knows that cute is much more than fur deep the secretary of the earnest Mr. Teddy Earnest
Now I would like to introduce to you the Minister of Faith and Friendship and everything that is righteous on Doggyspace and star of the Andy Griffith show Mr. Otis Campbell
I would like to introduce the foundation of the DS Nation the Alabama Titans the Bama Boys (Lord, I’m coming home to you, Alabama)
I would like to introduce the dog who brings the wisdom and the intelligence to us night after night after night after night and owner of his own business and newspaper article Mr. Hobo Hudson
Let me introduce all the way from Portland Oregon, the minister of heart and spirit, the great, great Blazer dog
And from Rainbow Bridge, and from the great Nissan’s South Breeders Fred Max Browne, Luca and Junior Don Pinche
And now I would like to introduce the first family of the DS Nation and publishers of the widely read Doggy Digest Sham Pow, Sweet Pea, and Duke’s family
And now, it is my great privilege and honor to introduce, the talented, the beautiful, the first lollipop of love: Zoe Boe
And last but not least, last but not least, I’m talking about the Minister of Love, the secretary of the brotherhood. Do I have to say his name? Do I have to save his name? Say who? The Big Dog Moses (with Matilda too)

“Now the change was made on D-space after Tanner’s deletion by Princess
All the lollipops turned and said Princess kiss my ass
I’m gonna sit back right easy and laugh
When the Tanner Brigade busts this city in half
After a Doggyspace Freeze out, Doggyspace Freeze out
Doggyspace Freeze out

Thanks for listening. Good night everybody!

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Blog IV: The Search for Princess

By Foley:

The first time I saw that dastardly Princess of Cyberland I knew I had seen her before. Was it during the raid in Algiers? Was it in the jungles of Venezuela where I am known as “The Iguana?” Pocket and I put on our private dick hats and began to search for where we had seen this femme fatale before. Then we stumbled on to a place called Google. It was huge, with all the information in the world cluttered in every spot, and then, in a especially dark and dangerous place called Yorkshire Terrier Puppy Pictures we found this link: http://images.google.com/images?hl=en&client=firefox-a&channel=s&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&hs=e8U&um=1&q=yorkshire+terrier+puppy+photos&sa=N&start=702&ndsp=18

There she was, first column, second row, in a group of pictures used by people who don’t own a Yorkie and need a photo of one, our Princess. “Oh my Dog Pocket do you know what this means?” I asked her. “Yes, Princess has pimped herself out to a toilet paper company,” she said.

“No,” I said. “The picture in Princess’ profile isn’t Princess at all.” (I knew she wasn’t a Yorkie.) But why? Why would someone pretend to be a sweet innocent little Yorkie pup? We decided to send Princess an e-mail posing as a six month old Pom pup. We arranged a meeting at the doggy park. Then we got a film van to tape what happened. But we couldn’t agree who would steer and who would work the pedals, so we left it behind and wrote down everything that happened.

At the allotted time of the meeting a snake slithered into the park and went to the bench we had designated at our meeting spot. In it’s mouth it had a bag with a pink bow. It curled beneath the bench waiting for the poor innocent pup expecting to meet a friend they made on line.

The snake’s tongue slipped in and out in anticipation. But instead of a pup a man sat on the bench. “Were you expecting someone else?” the man asked. “No, not really,” the snake said. The man bent down and picked up the bag. “Puppy Milk bones, a rawhide treat, a squeaky duck, you were expecting to meet a puppy weren’t you? Perhaps one you met on line?”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” the snake said trying to slither away. “Excuse me Princess, my name is Chris Hansen from Dateline NBC. You are on To Catch a Puppy Predator. Isn’t it true that you arranged to meet a under aged Pom named Sunshine here, ply her with rawhide treats and a squeaky duck, and then swallow her hole? Isn’t it true you are posing on the Internet as a Yorkie named Princess? Do you have a problem Mr. Snake?

“I do, I do, I do have a huge problem, I’m not a Yorkie named Princess. I downloaded a photo on Google and set up a fake identity to lure in unsuspecting pups and delete them with my giant jaws of doom.” And…scene.

The rules of Cyberland that have come down from on high is that no one may have a profile on Doggyspace who is not a real dog. Princess has a photo downloaded from Google and no others. Her photos are of other dogs, her videos are of other dogs. You would think, with all the dogs in shelters, with all the rescue groups paying tithe to the castle, that the owner of Cyberland could at least have rescued a dog instead of creating a fake profile.

In Cyberland, under Princess’ rule, all dogs are equal. But some dogs are more equal than others.

In the words of the Princess herself: “As you know the rules are laid out clear…. It may be unforchunit for her personaly, however she knew she should not have done that before she even posted it, and we can not make exceptions…… as its a clear break of the community rules. Its sad to see so many adults act like children.”

So, because the rules are the rules, and we all have to follow the rules, there can only be one course of action for this behavior. So Tanner brigade line up. Good job. Now let’s turn and face the castle and let’s speak as one:

“ DELETE PRINCESS
DELETE PRINCESS
DELETE PRINCESS
DELETE PRINCESS”

HOOOOWWWWWLLLLLL! Refuges for Cyberland Again.






http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=5412352060304759370#

Monday, May 4, 2009

Tanner update


By Foley:

Guess who I heard from tonight? That's right, Tanner Bub, and he says he is doing awesome, he is resting up and will make his return to the Internet at a still to be determined location soon. The support you have all given him has renewed his spirit and his fire. And when he is ready do you know where he's going? He's going right back to that Cyberland castle, where that phony little dog thinks she rules, and this time when that little scamp barks, she won't be barking at a scared, sick dog, but at a warrior, and, I know that she thinks she sees all, but she better look over Tanner's haunches, because behind him is an army, The Tanner Brigade, an army of banished, angry, hurt, but strong dogs, who are ready to bring that house of cards she considers a castle tumbling down around her. and no matter how much she barks, and how much her Daddy yells, bullies, threatens, and hits the delete key with the desperation of Desmond entering the code in the hatch, that castle of cards will come tumbling dow; so I ask her this: Whatcha gonna do, when the Tanner brigade runs wild on you?

My orange ball has passed away

By Pocket

My original orange ball died today. Daddy was throwing it to me. It was almost totally split down the middle, one side had all the orange covering gone, the other only had a small strip of orange going across it, making it look like an old man attempting to pull off a comb over on top of his shrunken skull. Daddy threw it, it skittered across the floor, no longer even bouncing. I picked it up, rushed back to Daddy, and he went to take it, but I held on, and pop, it broke in two. And there wasn’t a danm thing in there. Great! Then Daddy walked over to the trash, opened it, and dropped it, leaving my best friend, my orange ball, in the trash. I followed Daddy back to the living room. He sat on the floor. I looked up at him. “Where’s my orange ball?” I asked and began to look all over for it. I’m not sure if I’m going to find it. I think something happened to it. Oh well, let’s nap.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

The man next door vs. the determined squirrel

By Pocket:

I spent a good part of Friday with Foley sitting by the big windows by our deck watching the tall man who lives next-door battle out most troublesome enemies, the squirrel. The man was putting up his bird feeders. Foley and I have no quarrel with small birds, and as many of you know, we have a wonderful relationship with the neighborhood Canadian geese who we use to deliver our poop-on-you awards.

Before he put up his bird feeders he decided to make them squirrel proof. First he took used ups of sour cream and he cut a hole in them, and worked them down the trunk of the tree. Foley and I looked at one another skeptically. He did this several times. Then he had these plastic things, they looked like flying saucers, or maybe upside down birdbaths, and the put them on poles that he had stuck in the ground.

By the time he was done every tree either had a flying saucer or a upside down sour cream cup. Then he took a wire and strung it between two trees. Then he took barbed wire and attached it to the wire between the trees. Every time he did this he had to go up and down a ladder, up and down.

Finally he picked up the two feeders and hung in the middle of his line of barbed wire. He then stepped back with a self-satisfied look on his face admiring his work, which made our pretty back yard look like a place where aliens had landed to raid our sour cream farm.

He went inside and seconds later two squirrels came out of the woods and began pacing back and forth looking at the bird feeders. They stopped, pointed up, discussed the situation. They tried running up the trunks but we stymied by the sour cream cups and flying sauces. They got to the wire but were stopped by the sharp barbs. They went back on the ground and huddled to discuss the situation. For the first time in our lives Foley and I were rooting for the squirrels.

Then one of them got right underneath the feeder which was about four feet off the ground. He got up on his hind legs, shook his butt a little, and then took off like a rocket, grabbing a hold of the feeder with his claws, pulling himself up, and eating the feed and emptying the rest on the ground for his friend.

Our neighbor came out a short time later, hands on hips, one of those cartoon “fuming” things over his head. We are sure he will be back at work tomorrow trying to stop the squirrels. We think the entire situation will culminate on network TV when the Deustche Bank Open takes place down the road in Norton MA.

By that time our neighbor will have laid dynamite under the ground to stop the squirrels and he will set it off just as Tiger Woods shorts the winning putt by a quarter inch when the earth begins to shake and the ball falls into the hole causing Tiger to win Caddyshack style. And when you see that happen, think of Foley and I, and say well, their neighbor finally got that squirrel.

And then, seconds later, the squirrels will appear, jump on to the fielder, and eat all his food. Rock on squirrels, we have to chase you when we see you, but we’ll still root for you.