Sunday, December 27, 2009

Pup of the week December 27



One of the greatest attributes a pup can have is loyalty.

Loyalty makes us do things without thinking: Like charging at larger dogs who threaten our Mom; or barking at huge humans in our doorway who may be entering our home without permission; or staying with our parents when they have broken their leg while reaching the mountain summit even though a blizzard is due (this has happened to me twice.)

But I have never seen loyalty like one of our members has shown this autumn. She had been a valued member of Princess’ castle. But when the politics there began to turn against common dogs like us, she was the first one to be chased out. She was very disrespected by some less trained dogs, her feelings were hurt, and we all lost a fantastic friend.

During our brief stay in our temporary home she joined us again, but a bad dog chased her away. It took a lot of persistent pleading to get her to join the Tanner Brigade, but when she did we became complete as a group.

When she learned her good friend Miss Lucy had taken ill our Pup of the Week marched right back into the castle, telling those who attempted to gain her friendship “Talk to the paw.” She was there for one reason, to nurse her friends during her last days. Although she had to endure slings in arrows each time she entered the castle, nothing kept her from her appointed mission of care giving.

So for that, and for so many other reasons, Hattie Mae is our Pup of the Week.

For her fashion sense that always brings a smile, for her wit and wisdom, for her sparkling comments that make our day, for her honesty, for her integrity, for her beauty, for her daring world travel, for her take no prisoners attitude, and for being the best pup a friend could ask for Hattie Mae is a very deserving Pup of the Week.

So hop in the spotlight and take a bow girl friend. You’re the best.

Our Christmas: Zoe Boe's made the day, and a trip to the Bridge made our night

As some of our Facebook friends are aware two of the gifts that my Mommy gave, to daughter #1, and to Daddy’s Mommy, were pictures drawn by Zoe Boe’s immensely talented Mom with the aid of the able bodied Zoe, and her expertise in coloring and shading.

She had to do them quickly. My parents sent the pictures she did the drawings from to the wrong e-mail address, so if you received pictures of a Shih Tzu and an elderly couple standing on a hill in Wolfeboro New Hampshire please delete. She got them, did a marvelous job getting them ready in time, and put them in the US Mail paying an extra rate so they would get here post haste.

Every day we checked the mailbox, and while there were wonderful things there, cards from the beautiful Lambies, from Tanner’s Mom, from Roland’s Mom, there still wasn’t the anticipated artwork. Mommy and Zoe Boe’s Mom exchanged e-mails and finally she sent Zoe out to track it.

As we all know Zoe is a brilliant tracker, and on Christmas Eve she sent us an e-mail saying she tracked it down. A half hour before Mommy and Daddy were going over daughter number two’s house for mead and grog Zoe contacted me, I told Daddy, and he went outside (without his knickers on) to give one final check of the mail.

The envelope was there. Oh be joyful! The envelope was stained, wet, and tattered.

Now as a pup, may I take a moment, to again, justify our hatred of those blue uniformed bozos that deliver our mail. We chase, we bite, we snarl, we fight, because if they aren’t bringing bad news, they’re delivering good news poorly. So the next time your pup attacks your personal plump Newman do not admonish, reward with a treat and an ear scratch for we truly have your best interests at heart.

When Daddy saw the wet envelope his heart dropped down his knees, which is when he realized he didn’t have knickers, and ran in the house. He ripped the envelope open.

But he shouldn’t have worried. Zoe Boe’s Mom is very clever. She had the package bubble wrapped, and the two drawings were facing one another, so despite the best efforts of Newman Incorporated there drawings were perfect for framing and presenting.

Mommy did a quick wrap job and they gave us kisses and put me on my blanket and Pocket in her crate, and out the door they went for a Christmas Eve family get together.

And what of us you ask? Well I hopped on the bed and watched them pull out of sight, then jumped back down and pulled the laptop from under the bed. I entered the codes, opened Pocket’s crate, then we jumped on the keyboard and hit the download sequence.

We were uploaded to Rainbow Bridge.

Oh, it was the most beautiful sight. Hundreds of trees all outfitted with lights. Wafting from the cooking fires was the scent of turkey, chicken and ham. Tanner was dressed like Santa, his eyes merry and bright, when he laughed his belly shook like a bowl full of jam. Sophie was next to him, a right proper Mrs. Claus overseeing the basting of the roast beef. Teddie Earnest had arranged for a lovely fireworks show, and Pocket and I snuggled on a blanket in the snow to watch the beautiful colors over the reef. Dulce and Sami brought us our drinks in golden bowls, sausage flavored water for Pocket and a Foleytini for me. Fred chased all the young pups, keeping them squealing with glee.

Who was there from the Brigade?

Well we made a pact not to say, you see, so many Mommies worry when their pups are downloaded to infinity. Suffice it to say, if you left them alone on that Eve, it was Rainbow Bridge they went when you did leave.

After our feast Tanner and Sophie lined up the young pups for their gifts.

They handed out Pop guns! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums! Checkerboards! Tricycles! Popcorn! And plums! Then it was time to eat the great feast. You know it was Moses who carved the roast beast.

After downing our precious holiday meal, we all joined paws under the tree with great zeal. Then we sang Christmas songs loud and clear, so happy that all our dear friends were near.

Then we saw our Mommies and Daddies were heading home, and to the computer we did roam. A few keystrokes, a gentle flick of the mouse, and we were all safely in place when our parents entered the house.

Our parents were none the wiser that we had gone to a party. They told us how Daughter #1’s eyes filled with tears when she saw a picture of her Bailey. We then all snuggled in our bed. Mommy and Daddy thought we would be lively from our time alone but we were fast asleep when the pillow met out head.

On Christmas morning Daddy’s parents arrived, for pancakes, and muffins, and Christmas breakfast pie. Their eyes filled with Christmas Day tears too when they saw their wonderful pictures, drawn with brown, green and blue.

So that’s how Zoe Boe’s Mom made our Christmas Eve and Day, and before we knew it Mommy and Daddy went away. So a huge Christmas feast we had, with all our friends, whose Mommy’s left them, thinking they would be sad. We almost had the mess cleaned when Mommy arrived home, but we were ratted out by one of the Christmas gnomes. But Mommy just hugged us and told us she knew our hearts, and then we shared her lap and a long nap we did start.

So thank you Zoe, to your Mom, to our friends, and to Rainbow Bridge, our buds to the end.

Our Christmas was perfect, we couldn’t have been more happy, I raise a bowl to all the dogs we met, and settle in for another nappy.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

The Tanner Brigade 12 Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love game to me six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love game to me seven copies of Button’s Mom’s book The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood
Six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love game to me eight dirty members of the Pack needing a bath
Seven copies of Button’s Mom’s book The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood
Six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me nine free books PAWS by Sarah Jane’s Mom
Eight dirty members of the Pack needing a bath
Seven copies of Button’s Mom’s book The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood
Six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me ten Zoe Boe humpday funnies
Nine free books PAWS by Sarah Jane’s Mom
Eight dirty members of the Pack needing a bath
Seven copies of Button’s Mom’s book The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood
Six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me eleven Bauser Bandandas
Ten Zoe Boe humpday funnies
Nine free books PAWS by Sarah Jane’s Mom
Eight dirty members of the Pack needing a bath
Seven copies of Button’s Mom’s book The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood
Six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love game to me twelve Tanner Bub kisses from the Bridge
Eleven Bauser Bandandas
Ten Zoe Boe humpday funnies
Nine free books PAWS by Sarah Jane’s Mom
Eight dirty members of the Pack needing a bath
Seven copies of Button’s Mom’s book The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood
Six Hobo Hudson blogs
Five Hattie Maes
Four Red Raider jerseys for Chelsea and Ashton
Three basset hounds named Olivia, Dot and Roxanne
Two vicious poms named Chase and Gucci
And a Pocket peeing on the floor

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

The official Foley Monster and Pocket Christmas Picutre

It is time for the unveiling of the Foley Monster and Pocket official Christmas picture. OK everyone settle down. I know, it’s like the lighting of the Rockerfeller Center Christmas Tree or the erecting of the National Festivus Pole, but let me give you a little background first.

At this point of our posing we had been photographed about 600 times. You cannot tell, because it did not appear in the picture, but there were tiny puffs of steam coming out my ears. I was tired and wanted a lap. When I am in the thralls of lap withdrawal I am six pounds of ferocious hell, my friends.

As for Pocket, never has a dog looked so resigned, so forlorn. She had tried it all, looking left, looking right, pouting, bringing sexy back; nothing pleased our camera obsessed parents. She laid her head on the blanket. The expression on her face was simple defeat.

The antlers had been strapped to her head for more than an hour. They could have attached a ball gag and the humiliation needle wouldn’t have quivered. Even I felt sorry for the poor girl. At the point of the picture’s creation she wouldn’t have aarfed a bark if they hung her by her back legs and shaved her like a hog in the butcher house.

We were lying down in front of the little village under the tree. I don’t know who would build a village under a tree. They must spend all year cleaning giant pinecones. Plus Pocket defiles the river nightly.

Daddy had the camera now. He was lying on the floor, slowly creeping towards us. Somehow the camera and I became on the same wavelength. I knew when it was frozen, not ready to take the picture, and Pocket and I posed perfectly; then, it would signal to me when it was ready. We’d turn away just as the shutter clicked. Daddy would look at the picture, and then the parade of bad words would begin.

But even that had lost it’s fun for us. Now we just wanted them to take the danm picture so we could get on with our lives. But picture after picture he couldn’t get the shot right (which was pathetic, considering the perfect subjects he had.) Finally, as Pocket settled into her manic depression and I grumbled the mumbles of dread, the flash flushed, and Daddy caught a pretty darn good pictures of us sisters from Yorkshire.

Mommy looked at it, smiled, and said “we can do better.”

So we sat for about another 100 pictures over the course of the weekend. But we need did to that one.

Which is this one:




So Merry Christmas to all our Tanner Brigade, Facebook, Twitter and Blogger friends. You make every day better and we treasure you all.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Morgan is the Pup of the week December 20, 2009


'Twas the five days before Christmas, when all through the brigade
Pocket and Foley were picking a puppy to parade
They needed a pup of the week so pretty and fair,
Whose wonderfulness to all was very rare;
The other pups were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Snasauges danced in their heads;
And Pocket in her neckkerchief, and I in my bandana,
Were munching on Mommy’s antipasto platter,
Our arguments over pup of the week usually raise a clatter,
This week we agreed so nothing was the matter.
We agreed on who to pick in a flash,
Then went through the cupboards looking for suckatash.
We saw the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
And hoped before we had to wee it would find somewhere to go
Unlike the sky our pick for pup of the week was clear,
It is a Miracle Maltese we all hold dear,
What a little old pup, so lively and quick,
Our pup is holding strong even though he’s been sick.
His name is Morgan, he’s our Miracle Maltese
He’s the first to say thank you, excuse me and please;
He’s handsome, he’s brave, he’s smart, he’s strong
He’s loyal, he’s faithful, he’s heartfelt, he’s warm
From the south of Florida to the Vancouver coast
He’s the Miracle Maltese who has the most
His wild stories make our hearts fly
His friendship makes us as high as the sky
Over the Internet all his love and friendship flew
All you had to do was ask and he’d be your friend too
He was a big aid to this friend Tim Tebow
When he was sick for the championship the Gators hit a new low
We don’t know what will happen when he goes pro
Without a Miracle Maltese he won’t know where to throw
He wears all white from his head to his foot
It’s beautiful and curly with not a speck of soot
He carries all his friends troubles on his back
Which is why he’s the leader of this pack
He’s such a beautiful pup, his eyes so merry
His hair always perfect, his nose like a cherry
His bright red tongue curls out like a bow
We’d be afraid we’d lose him if he got out in the snow
He never bite you despite his sharp teeth
Like most Maltese he has one stick out underneath
He has a cute face and a little round belly
And it shakes when he laughs like a bowl full of jelly
He is sprightly and bright, a right shiny elf
And we all laugh when we see him in spite of ourselves
A wag of his tail, a turn of his head
Smiles on our face he knows how to spread
He speaks not a word but he’s ready to work
Helping us all when we’re acting like jerks
Giving thanks for every small trinket he gets
He is truly one of the world’s best pets
He trained so well he comes when Mom whistles
His feelings can’t be hurt he never bristles
So Pocket and I would like to say to our friend so at his peak
Merry Christmas to all; Morgan’s our Pup of the Week

How we survived the blizzard

This morning when the alarm went off Daddy got up and looked out the window and let out a big groan. Mr. Winter had left a bunch of deep and cold snow outside. While Pocket and I burrowed further down the covers, and Mommy rolled over and pulled them tighter, Daddy put on his clothes, his coat, his gloves, his hat, his booties, (big Kitty, Pocket and I go out in our everyday wear) and then went outside to dig us out a spot to pee and Vick.

We woke up an hour later and silly Daddy had not come back in the house yet. This was so aggravating. We sent Pocket down to see what the delay was. She ran downstairs, looked out the window, then went back to the bed to tell us he was laying in the snow making snow angels. Mommy was so mad. Just like Daddy to be playing when there was work to do.

Mommy put on a robe and a jacket and we all went down stairs in a grumpy huff. I jumped on the back of the couch and said "I don't know if Daddy is making snow angels because he's not moving his arms or legs." Mommy looked out and shook her head and said that not only was he a below adequate shoveler but he was a lousy snow angel maker.

When we went outside Mommy yelled at him, but he's such a clown, he lay there, still not making his angels properly. Mommy told him to get up, but he's such a clown he didn't move, so we went inside for some hot chocolate with cinnamon and I wrote this poem for all of you who survived the blizzard.

I hope you're inside all safe and warm
I hope you're not wet, that you've been dried
We are going to send Pocket out into the storm
To nuzzle Daddy to see if he's died

Update: Daddy is fine. He passed out in the snow. A burly snow plow driver saw him and performed CPR. Outside of a few beard hairs in his throat he's as good as new.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Foley Monster's Christmas List for Santa

Dear: Santa

Hi Santa, it’s me, Foley Monster. How have you been? I’m doing well. I have had an excellent year. We formed the Tanner Brigade, defeated the terrible Princess, and gave dogs the freedom to bark across the land. How about you? Still doing that good child, bad child, passing out the toys crap? Well I guess that’s cool. At least you have steady work. Hope you worked out the health care issue with the elves.

I hope you don’t have too much melting up at the North Pole. I know you like the Artic because no one can get there. If all the ice melts then it will become a tourist trap and you’ll never get anything done. If that happens and you need to move I suggest the Jersey Shore. Nobody wants to go there. Just don’t hire an elf named The Situation.

This year I am going to mix things up a little bit. Instead of a long list of what I want I am going to ask you for some things for my friends. So get your fountain pen and parchment, or blackberry, and get ready to record these requests.

For Baarney and Taabatha their own Bravo show Project Dogway where they can design the latest in dog wear.

For Chelsea and Ashton some Red Raider wins and a National Championship.

For Chase and Gucci lots of time: with their Mom, for her with them and; for us to exchange e-mail gossip with them.

For Matilda, not to get into any big trouble, I would wish her not to get into any little trouble either, but for Matilda there is no little trouble. And for Matilda’s Uncle: Testicular cancer and painful rectal itch.

For Dulce summer nights less than 100 degrees.

For Skye some easy breathing days.

For Mollie her Mom to keep getting healthier and stronger.

For Hobo Hudson more interesting guests on his talk show so he doesn’t fall asleep and for lots of hits for his Mom’s blog.

For Buttons at the Bridge lots and lots of more followers for her Mom because she helps out so many dog owners and everyone who loves a pup should follow her.

For Kolchak less work for their Mom so Kolchak and Felix can spend more time with us.

For the Pack some better treatment from her neighbors and for them to be able to stay together wherever they go.

For Erin the title of Queen of the Internet and for all us to get a whole lot smarter so we don’t keep bothering her.

For Paco a book called “Foley and Pocket: The book of American Pop References,” so Paco can understand our blogs.

For Ike: Plenty of time playing catch, plenty of time getting treats, and plenty of time in bed.

For Luca and Junior plenty of warm weather and time by the pool this summer, and plenty of inspiration for new contests.

For Shiloh may his moon never go retrograde.

For Sydney, Sonic and Buddy to have Jordan home with them next Christmas safe and sound.

For Willow Greyhound happy and safe days and to run free and strong.

For the Malatesta Gang a year without any work because all dogs have found their forever homes.

For Bentley not too much snow or cold so he can spend some time outside.

For Shadow her Mom to get healthier so she can start taking care of him instead of him taking care of her.

For Otis a USA World Cup win and a Dayton Flyers NCAA berth.

For Zoe Boe to have lots of friends as talented and kind as her and her Mom.

For Tanner Bub, that more people join this site and learn the legend of Tanner Bub and to see his Mom in her dreams.

And the same wishes got out to Sophie Bub and her Mom too.

For 12, Chappy and Whiskey some fresh tomatoes and for the video cameras to break.

For Sarah that plenty of people get her book and are helped by it.

For Hattie Mae, that America’s Top Model allows dogs to be contestants so she can get her true title as top model.

To Savannah and Roland a GPS so they will stop getting lost and scaring us all to death.

For Morgan Five hundred twenty five hundred six hundred minutes and a season of love.

For Totti and Foxy lots of reindeer so your stint on Christmas Eve does not last that long.

For Nase the wisdom to follow everything that Sierra does so he will know how to be the perfect dog like her is.

For Gracie and Max, that you can learn all of Teddy’s tricks, and you can keep filling your Mom’s heart with so much love.

For Raider, a left fielder, a big hitting first baseman, and an Al Davis coronary.

For Pokey Lunn lots of long walks, lots of trips to the coasts, of a Senator with the wisdom of Pocket.

For Pintus and Rain to have joy as big as their mother’s heart.

For Macdougal to continue to heal his Mom’s broken heart and for us to be able to help.

For Brody to get lots of pull toys and fun.

For all good doggies in the world to get a Bauser bandanna to wear in proudly.

For Sandy lots of happy days chasing chipmunks and playing games.

For Smoochy a healthy year for her Mom and for that we give him half the laughs from jokes and stories that he gives us.

For Maxamillion and Tupper lots of laughs and stimulation for their brilliant and creative minds.

For Apollo a wonderful, loved filled, beautiful, happy Christmas.

For Daisy Mae a healthy year for her.

For Zoey lots of Yorkie love.

For Lady Bug a big plate of Christmas turkey

For Baron the ability to attack a bone with proper chewing prowess.

For the Valdosta pups enough lap time for everyone.

For Cali and Hurley more time to hang out at the ocean, more time to hang out with Mom, and more time to chat on line with us.

For Ruby Duncan lots of room to run and play.

For Simba to keep getting along with the kitty and lots of Princess things to lie on.

For Jack Jack more time to run and have adventures with Roscoe.

For Cocoa Puff and Ruger to know that they have the best Mom in the world. For Cocoa to keep teaching Ruger how to be a proper Bub and to have a year of happy days.

For Gordo to be able to get out of the snow and into the warm house and to enjoy the comforts of home.

For Chelsea and Junior lots of good times together and to stay close to their wonderful Mom.

For Jeni to stay warm this winter and to have a wonderful January birthday

For Tadertot lots more Popsicles.

To Ruby Rode no more medicated baths. They’re no fun.

For Einstein, Taz and Kameron, lots of agility courses to run and run and run.

For Koda and Josie the continue to teach Bella how to be a pet, along with your Mom, until she’s as well behaved as the two of you.

For Rigley, a quick winter so he can get back to the beaches and enjoying the outdoors.

For Graycee and Hondo lots of wide open places to run and play in.

For Trixie lots of her Mom’s wonderful food to fall on the ground and for Mom to have a happy and healthy year.

For Shiloh have a year without any surgeries and no nights away from home.

And for any of the dogs I haven’t mentioned a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Sorry I didn’t remember everyone, but my Yorkie Brain can only handle so much.

So if you can get on that Santa, thank you.

Oh, and maybe a new chewy bone for me, if you have time. And Pocket to go to the bathroom outdoors.

You do those two things, and everything else and I’ll be happy

Thursday, December 17, 2009

TBTV reporter Hobo Hudson interviews candidate Pocket

Hobo: Good evening: I am Hobo Hudson and welcome to Tanner Brigade Tonight TVTB’s look at the issues of the day. Our guest this evening is Independent candidate for Massachusetts Senate Pocket Q. Rocket. Welcome Ms. Rocket.

Pocket: Thank you for having me this evening Hobo. I am looking forward to your questions.

Hobo: Pocket, you live in the city of Taunton MA. Recently an eight year old boy was sent home from school and not allowed to come back unless he underwent a psychological exam for drawing this picture: The boy claimed it is a picture of Christ on the cross. Do you support the school system’s stance?

Pocket: Absolutely. Just look at this picture.

That’s the worst Christ on the cross I have ever seen. It looks like that girl Cathy from the Funny Papers being water boarded. If you allow outwork that bad to be in the classroom where does it end? You’ve got to figure out why this kid sucks so bad at drawing and make sure it doesn’t happen. Excuse me, I think my lunch is coming back up, oh boy, deep breathing, OK, just please, take that awful picture away.

Hobo: The child wasn’t suspended because of his artistic ability but because when he said it was Christ on the cross they became afraid it was a violent image. Do you agree it’s a violent image?

Pocket: Oh yes, it is very violent. Did you see the Mel Gibson movie? Wow. I hid under the blanket. I did like it when they showed their butts to the British.

Hobo: I think you have the wrong movie.

Pocket: No, that was the movie I was hiding when it was on.

Hobo: Many feel that this was an assault on religion, that the teacher and principal suspended the boy because he introduced Jesus in the classroom. What is your opinion of religion in the classroom?

Pocket: Well, when my Mommy is working in the classroom I’m praying to the Bridge Gods that she come home and let me out of the crate. My Mom has a lot of kids from the Projects in her classroom, and lots of times she introduced Jesus. They pronounce it Heyzeus like a sneeze and their Dad isn’t home much either.

Hobo: Some blame this on the Massachusetts liberals. Do you see this a symptomatic of an overly liberal culture?

Pocket: Well, people say it’s the liberals, but the ACLU is suing on behalf of the family, so you have liberals suing liberals, and that’s like the Mets playing the Yankees, we don’t care who wins, we just hope someone suffers a season ending injury.

Hobo: Well I think you have given us a lot to think about.

Pocket: Oh I am sorry, I was hoping to give you a lot to nap about.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Foley and Pocket worry the the Dog Whisperer turned their parents into zombies

Despite my using all the tools at my disposal, calling in all favors owed to me, and promising more than I will be able to repay, my parents still made it into Boston Sunday night to her the Dog Whisperer.

While Mommy and Daddy were preparing to go I hacked on to the security system for the Agganis Arena at Boston University. I sent out the following e-mail: “To all parking staff: Only admit one car at a time on to the lot. Only allow cars who have pre-paid with their credit card and have a printed out ticket park in the lot. Do not check to see if they have the ticket until they’re in the lot, and if they don’t have a ticket hold up the line as the car does a six point turn to get out of the lot and back on the street. Please take up to five minutes arguing/explaining the situation while others wait. Thank you.”

Then I looked at the weather report: Chance of showers. Well this would not do. I downloaded myself to Rainbow Bridge and convinced Tanner to meet with the weather Gods to cause a torrential rain to fall between 4:00 and 6:00 PM as Mommy and Daddy were driving to Boston. Tanner had to call in some major favors but just as my parents were leaving the rain began to fall.

I know my Mommy like I know the back of my paw. She doesn’t like traveling in the rain, and she doesn’t like traffic. Well, thanks to my e-mail the security at the Agganis Arena caused an hour traffic jam on Commonwealth Avenue, which caused Mommy and Daddy to creep along in the pouring rain. But I forgot the most important thing. If Mommy had bought a ticket on the Titanic, she would have gone down with the ship, ‘cause gosh darnit she paid for a boat ride and she was getting a boat ride.

They got there after the show started, so I take that as a small victory because DW says the really harmful stuff at the top of the show. My plan backfired when they were almost killed driving home in the pouring rain and the fog. Tanner made me promise to let him know when to tell the rain Gods to stop making it downpour, but I fell asleep and forgot. It wasn’t my fault. Scheming takes a lot out of a Yorkie.

There were no visible signs of change when they got home, except for the trembling from almost dying. I listened to see if they were showing signs of brainwashing. They talked about how good DW was in doing dog impressions. I was doing my human impression, tapping my paw impatiently waiting for them to get to the good stuff. They droned on about how he talked about his wife being his pack leader; about the funny reactions dogs have when people do things; how he made them laugh.

I wasn’t interested in how he made them laugh, I was interested in how he made them zombies.

Then they talked about the second half of the show where he worked with dogs; a stubborn German Shepard who kept snapping at a passing dog no matter how much the DW tried (yay!); a boarder collie who was supposedly afraid of vacuums but acted like the vacuum was his best friend (double yay); and a couple with two lap dogs who he introduced as a mother and son when it was really husband and wife. The wife was not amused. (Triple freaking yay.)

When I went to sleep Sunday night I was sure that we had escaped them turning into DW zombies.

The next morning Pocket and I were playing kill the Yorkie with the tail in the bathroom, barking up a storm when we heard “Shust.” Mommy thought it had worked because we were quiet. Actually we were on the ground laughing a Yorkie laugh, which is not very loud.

Later that day I saw that white kitty who pisses me off and started barking and Mommy stepped between me and the back door where I was kitty stalking and spread her arms out and told me she was owning the door.

I walked away. She can own the door. I own the danm house.

So it could have been worse, a little shusting here, a little door owning there. I guess I have it coming from almost killing them and all.

I am more disturbed by Daddy, who usually isn’t one for training, preferring just to hang with us. He thinks the Shust thing is weird so when we’re doing something he doesn’t like he looks at us and goes “Boo-La-La.”

Actually, I like that. Now, whenever my Mommy goes “Shust” I go “Boo-La-La,” so our house is “Shust” “Boo-La-La” “Shust,” “Boo-La-La,” and we’ve got a bunch of teenagers outside thinking a hip-hop band lives with us.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Apollo is Pup of the week December 13th

There are several customs that humans observe that make little sense to me. One of them is to wait until a loved one passes to Rainbow Bridge before they tell pay tribute to them.

We dogs prefer to let our feelings known before the bus to the bridge comew calling. So that is why we have chosen the wonderful, smart, powerful and loyal Apollo Shultz as our Pup of the Week.

Poor Apollo got some very bad news this week: Pancreatic cancer. It’s a one-way ticket to the Bridge, and we can hope, and pray, but there’s not much we can do about it.

As always Apollo took the news bravely and stoically. His concern was with his Mom and family. He knows he will be fine. Our friends at the Bridge at waiting for him, ready to run free, to play, and to live without interference from any mean humans.

Apollo’s main concern is, of course, his family. He hasn’t asked for us to worry about him, but only to take care of his Mom, Shakira and Ace.

This summer, when his crazy neighbors tried to poison him, Apollo managed to fight back, to surprise the doctors and his family and rally to good health again. Cruel that cancer now strikes him down, but our Apollo takes it all in stride. He is our rock, our
King of the mountain.

So here it to you, Apollo Schultz, friend, companion, bodyguard, confidant, love bug, snuggle baby, big brother, little boy, role model, brave, strong, indomitable of spirit, and pack leader. Long may you run my friend, long may you run.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Foley is concerned her Mommy and Daddy will be brainwashed by the Dog Whisperer

I, Foley, have received some news that has Pocket and I very concerned. It came up shortly after another photo session. Pocket and I were talking while they scrolled through the pictures about how our parents couldn’t be more annoying: And then came the news, which will drive their annoying tenancies to unimaginable levels.

Tomorrow night my Mommy and Daddy have tickets to go to the Agganis Center at Boston University to listen to the propaganda of the man known to humans as the Dog Whisperer and known to dogs as He Who Shall Not be Whispered.

I have worked nine years of my life to train my parents to understand that I am the Pack Leader, that the couch and the chairs are mine, that when we walk I lead, that I do not come when called; I prefer to screen my calls and come when it is only necessary; and if I bark they are to be summoned immediately.

Now this illegal immigrant is going to ruin it for everyone. I know, he’s legal now, as much of a citizen as you and I, but I still remember the night Lou Dobbs and I were on boarder patrol, and I had a man sneaking across the boarder in my sites, ready to pull the trigger, when I saw a squirrel and became distracted then missed him. As he was running to the safety of America he turned to me and whispered “sucker.”

Lou hasn’t spoken to me since.

So now I pay for the transgression. (Danm squirrels have always been my downfall.) Mommy and Daddy will leave the house Sunday the nice, beautiful people I have always known and loved, and return under the influence of the Whisperer. They will be shushing, and trying to show they own the couch, and insisting we don’t go up until we’re “invited,” wanting us to walk next to them instead of running ahead. It is going to take weeks for Pocket and I to break them out of this trance.

If anyone knows how the deprogram Mommies and Daddies who have come under the influence of this evil Whisperer please let us know. We are going to need all the help we can get.

Friday, December 11, 2009

The text of Foley Monster accepting the Nobel Pup Prize

Puppies and Lollipops thank you for awarding me the prestigious Nobel Pup Prize. I would like to thank all of those who supported me in winning this award, and for those of you who thought I have not accomplished enough to earn this award well they can stroke my hairy tail.

As I stand here, where so many other prestigious winners have stood, it makes me feel connected to them, like former Vice President Al Gore, who helped me spread the word by inventing the Internet, and taught me to be more tolerant of my sister, who, like Al Gore claiming to invent the Internet, is so full of Vick it’s spilling out on the floor.

Many of you ask how a dog, that uses the alias the General, could win a prize that is associated with peace, after sending several dogs on a raid into an armed castle. But we did it to give all dogs freedom to bark, and some times you need to fight to be free.

I have so many to thank for this award. My Mommy and Daddy, who, if you met them, you would realize they are social pariahs, but if you only know them through helping me post my random thoughts, and some twisted ones of their own, have become popular.

There are so many puppy friends I need to thank. First and foremost, my brother from another mother, the Mayor of Rainbow Bridge, my best friend forever, the Buzz to his Woody, Tanner Bub. I accept this award on behalf of him, his Mom, and his wonderful family.

I apologize in advance for those who I may forget. I need to get all these names in before the Nobel Peace Prize Band begins to play me off. And while I’m on the subject, does Gandhi rock on the sitar or what?

There is my escort for the evening, the beautiful Hattie Mae. You cannot possibly make a better entrance then when you’re on the paw of Hattie; my painter, who captures my spirit, and a dog’s beauty better than any other, Zoe Boe; and my fellow dreamers, our wonderful contest creators, Fred, Junior and Luca.

There are so many more dogs that are more deserving than I: Sarah Jane, who wrote a book for parents who are having trouble paying for doggie expenses in this tough Economy and then held her own bailout and is giving it away for free; Cocoa Puff and Ruger, who helped heal Tanner’s Mom’s heart when he went to the bridge; Macdougal, who healed his Mom’s heart when his Daddy went to the bridge; Shadow, who helped his Mom through a very painful time; The Malatesta Gang, who do unbelievable work in helping abused and homeless dogs everywhere; Sydney, Sonic and Buddy, who have sent their human brother off to war to fight for our freedom, Merry Christmas Jordan; Erin, who helps us all through this confusing series of tubes that is the Internet and allows us to stay together; Buttons at the Bridge, whose Mom does more for dogs through her tweets and blogs then anyone we know; Gracie Mae, who makes the world better just by being so darn cute; Moses, who shines down from the Bridge with love; and the Lambies, who fight for dogs, and against cancer every day.

Why did I get this award and not any of these worthy candidates? The answer, my friends, is simple. Their PR people suck.

So my final thanks go to my PR people, Murray and Joel Fienstein of Fienstein PR in Manhatten, thanks boys and I’m bringing this home for you.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Pocket and the picture she doesn't want you to see

Hi, Pocket here. Ssshhh! I don’t want my Mommy and Daddy to know where I am. No, I didn’t do anything silly like my sweet friends Roland and Savannah and go on the lam, I don’t even know any lambs, except for Lamb Chop, and I always found her to have a hand up her butt.

No, I’m hiding because I thought I saw Mommy with the camera. I don’t want to have my picture taken anymore. I’m like Suri Cruise. But cute.

I know you heard Foley’s version of our earlier tries at picture taking. We don’t agree often, but when Mommy’s and Daddy’s are picture happy even the most cantankerous of sisters need to stand together and squint at the bright light that keeps FLASHING! FLASHING! FLASHING!

Look, I’m a good dog. I have my faults: Confusing the bathroom and living room, barking at the wind, accepting PAC money during my campaign, but I try to do the right thing.

But I do not want to be wearing what I am wearing in the picture anymore. Now I am going to show you the picture but you must swear you are not going to laugh at me.

OK here it is.



You’re laughing. I can hear you. I can hear you Cali and Hurley and I’m way over here on the other coast. Man. You guys promised.

I hate those ears. First of all they aren’t the type of thing a serious dog about town who is going to become a famous politician should wear. Second of all they pinch my wiggly ears. I don’t like having my wiggly ears pinched.

But even without the antlers of doom I am just tired of sitting and posing and looking. I just want to be left alone.

Mommy and Daddy said they were done taking pictures. They were viewing them on this picture frame thing they have. Picture after picture of me in antlers. It was like Tiger Woods lying in the road seeing his entire life flash before his eyes if he was born Thanksgiving morning.

Hopefully by the weekend we will have the actual card pictures up for you to see, and maybe some outtakes too. But if they bring out their camera again we are downloading ourselves to Chelsea’s and Ashton’s house because their Mom is smart enough not to send Christmas cards to anyone.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Saffron is the Tanner Brigade Pup of the Week for December 6


Well Pocket and I firmly entrenched ourselves in opposite camps when deciding this week’s Pup of the Week. But, as always in disagreements within in the Brigade, I sought out, and received, the sage advice of Tanner Bub at the bridge and he solved our problems in his usual reasoned and fair manner.

I do understand that Pocket had several excellent reasons to dispute my candidate. First of all, he is not a member of the Brigade, although his family is, and the way I see it, if you have a family member in the Brigade, then you’re in the Brigade. Secondly, this pup is at the Bridge, and while you can certainly be the Pup of the Week at the Bridge, Pocket argued there was a more qualified member.

Well, I must admit, that I got myself into both a huff and a snit. I huffed and snitted around the house all day. That night I decided to seek out the sage advice of my friend Tanner. I downloaded myself up to the Bridge and the pups were so happy to see me: There was Teddy, and Sophie, and my old friends Blake, Copper and Jax, plus so many more. After a wild time of chasing Bridge bunnies made of rawhide, drinking ice cold water, and feasting on the Snausage trees, we sat down to talk.

I told Tanner about the pup at the Bridge who was my candidate and Tanner put a paw on my shoulder and told me he knew exactly whom I was talking about. He then gave a special howl and that black furred pup came bouncing over the hills. I introduced myself and he said he knew who I was, that his Mommy had told him about Pocket and I in her dreams. I then showed Tanner and this pup the wonderful tribute his Mom wrote about him. This dog cried and made me promise to tell his Mom how much he missed her and loved her and how sometimes during the day he sits in the sun and thinks about her.

I told Tanner how I wanted to make this dog my pup of the week but Pocket had another dog in mind. Tanner said that he had the perfect solution. He had recently been elected Mayor of the Bridge and he was using his power to make this dog “Rainbow Bridge Pup of the week.” So congratulations to Cali and Hurley’s big brother Sami, as he is the first “Rainbow Bridge Pup of the Week.”

Then I downloaded myself back home and woke up Pocket to tell her she was right. She had no idea what I meant and it took me several hours to explain the concept.

So, I admit, Pocket was right, and our Pup of the Week is very deserving. She had to go to the vet this week and have an operation, which is one of the worse possible things. First there’s the no eating, then the Mommy leaving us at the hospital, then the going asleep and waking up feeling all groggy with no Mommy in sight.

Then Mommy picks you up, and she’s happy to see you, but all worried, and you need to take care of her, even when you don’t feel well. Plus we all get worried and we spend two days praying for the Doctor to call up and say B-9.

And then guess what, the Doctor called up and said B-9 and we all yelled Bingo and danced and sang and had a huge party.

So, for being a brave pup in going to the Doctors; for putting up with all those humans at the hospital poking and prodding her; for being brave when she woke up without her Mommy there; for going home and taking good care of her Mom when she was so worried about her; and most of all for being our Bingo Dog and being B-9! Saffron is our Pup of the Week.

Congrats Saffron for being the Tanner Brigade Pup of the Week and for Sami for being the Rainbow Bridge Pup of the Week. You’re both fantastic! Long may you run.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

The horrific terror of our yearly Chistmas Card photo shoot

Well my loving slope-nosed parents annual exercise in futility occurred exactly on schedule this year as they tried to pose my squiggly sister and I in our yearly Christmas card photo. It would have been personally more enjoyable to me, and reached the same conclusion, if they had joined hands and banged their heads against the wall.

This year their artistic vision led them to place us on the bed. Our bed! Where we sleep! Where our children come and play with their toys! Now I am very used to having my photo taken, being absolutely precious and everything. But Pocket, she’s not so much a fan of having her picture taken. She trembled so much on the bed I thought someone slipped a quarter in her butt to make it vibrate.

Now personally I think we rocked those pictures. We laid down on command, we looked right in the camera, we were beautiful. But then Mom-“Annie Leibovitz”-my announced she did not like the headboard as a background. Didn’t like the headboard? She’s been sleeping with her head on that board for years. She just realized it wasn’t Christmas card worthy? Plus: I am pretty sure in one of them you can see Pocket’s nipple.

So we moved downstairs to the landing. The landing on the stairs is a great picture spot. The photographer stands up, and they’re on eye level with us. It’s very hard to not obtain your goal: unless you’re my Mommy or Daddy, or a Red Sox GM who insists on signing middle aged Venezuelan shortstops with limited range (wow, where’d that come from? I must be channeling a frustrated Red Sox fan at the bridge again.)

Then, get this, Daddy says to me, “well you two are certainly no Hattie Maes.” Well that stuck in my paw. First of all, no one is Hattie Mae, she is our diva, and no dog takes a better picture than her, so the comparison is unfair. Secondly, I am happy they were taking pictures of pups and not their daughters. I would hate for Daddy to say to his daughter: “Well, you’re certainly no Taylor Swift. Your nose is too big, your hair has no body, and your eyes are too close together. Guess we’ll have to buy cards at Wal-Mart with the parents of other ugly children.”

So then we moved to the recliner, and this part I really enjoyed, because by now Mommy and Daddy were frustrated and tired, and they do what they always do when they are frustrated and tired. They humiliated Pocket.

In a state of extreme panic they got the antlers with the bell hanging on it and slipped it on her head. (They know better than to pull that shiz-nit on me. Zoe’s caption on this week’s funny was totally accurate: I’m a dog dammit.) Pocket began shaking so much the chair was rocking back and forth, or it was rocking back and forth because I was lying on my back laughing. Daddy then got a couple of stuffed Pooh Bears (calm down lollipops, Winnie the Pooh Bears dressed in Christmas costumes, not Pocket’s Vicks stuffed with fluff and sold on line) and put them in front of us then began taking pictures again.

I was having so much fun. Mommy’s was kneeling, and Mommy, with her two bad knees, and other strict rules, does not kneel for anyone. She was taking the pictures, and Daddy stood behind us trying to keep our attention focused on the camera, by acting like a complete ass.

Here’s the thing: When Mommy and Daddy are taking your picture, look away, and out of the corner of your eye watch the one who is supposed to be keeping your attention, in this case Daddy, dance, squeak things, cluck like a chicken, and otherwise humiliate himself more than a Yorkie forced to wear antlers.

Tonight they went through the pictures. They finally decided to go with….none of them. Again, they are unhappy with the backdrop. I looked up at them and said “Well, you two are certainly no Hattie Mae’s Mom. I guess we’ll go to Wal-Mart and buy our Christmas cards with the rest of the dogs who have parents who don’t know a good picture background from a hole in the ground.

So we’re going to try again: Hopefully with a better backdrop. I know you’d love to see the pictures, but since Mommy and Daddy haven’t ruled out which picture they will be using, they don’t want to post them yet. But once a decision has been reached we’ll be posting all of them.

I have to get a good night’s sleep tonight, I’m going to be up posing tomorrow next to a trembling Yorkie and I need my beauty rest. Wish me luck.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Guess who caused Tiger Woods’ Accident? Hint: Initials - FM

Late Thursday night I had Turkey belly and couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t supposed to go on the Internet after the whole sneaking into the White House State Dinner thing, but Mommy was sleeping off the wine and Daddy was sleeping off the beating Mommy gave him so I decided to see my friends online.

The first message I got was from my friend Tiger in Florida. He asked me if I wanted to go with him to a Best Buy near his home, buy the new version of Mario Brothers for Nintendo Wii, and play all day. A Friday hanging out with Tiger and playing Wii! Cool! I hopped on the computer and downloaded myself to his big, fancy house.

I jumped out his computer while he was putting golf balls into a champagne flute. “Foley my main dog!” he said smiling at me, “you ready to get a Wii and play some Mario?”

“You bet,” I said as I ran out the door into the warm Florida air and jumped on to the passenger’s seat of his SUV. Tiger hopped in, we strapped ourselves in like Batman and Robin, and Tiger backed out the driveway.

As he put the car in drive I saw Steve the Squirrel, the one who stole my balloon after Pocket’s big adventure. I had been looking for him everywhere. I wanted my danm balloon back. Without thinking I jumped out of the SUV and ran right in front of the car. Tiger saw me going after the squirrel and swerved to save me and he hit a hydrant and a tree.

“Oh my God!” I cried. I turned and saw Steve run up a tree. “Squirrel,” I said clenching my paw.

I hurried over to the SUV and was relieved to see that Tiger climbed out without a scratch. “Thank god you’re all right,” I said. Tiger’s pretty wife came running out and asked what happened.

He told her he was going to Best Buy to get Mario Brothers for Wii and she asked who he was going to play with and he motioned to me and said “this little,” and in my mind I begged “say lollipop, say lollipop,” but unfortunately he said “bitch here.”

Her eyes grew into huge red sauces. A siren sounded and smoke came out of her ears. She reached into the back of the SUV and grabbed a driver. She looked down at me. “Are you the little bitch?” she asked. “I prefer lollipop!” I said as she swung and I turned tail and ran into the house.

I looked back and she was swinging at Tiger, hitting him in the head and chest as he cried out “No, no honey, not the driver, you’re bending the shafts! You’re bending the shafts!”

I jumped on the computer and hit the codes and downloaded myself through the tubes back home. I waited outside the bedroom door for Daddy to get up to pee, then jumped up on the bed, put a paw to my lips to signal my sister to keep her mouth shut, and snuggled up with Mama to sleep.

As I drifted off to sleep I wasn’t too worried. It was a fender bender in a gated, rich community in Florida. Who would care?