Saturday, July 31, 2010

Bailey don't go




Bailey's Mommy and Daddy are coming for her today and we have to hide her.

She loves it here. The rhythm of life in our family is perfect for her. No little kids running around pulling her tail or beautiful fur. No big, clumsy dog slobbering over her.

If I didn't know it was sillier than bands I would say that Bailey loved Mommy more than I do. When Mommy is downstairs cleaning the basement, or in the bathroom, Bailey walks around the house moaning like a ghost: "OhhhhhhhhhhwhereareyouMommyooooooohhhhhIdon'twanttonealoneooooohhhhfindme" The other day when Mommy went out Bailey fell asleep on the couch and when she awoke she must have decided we were all in bed. When Mommy got home Bailey was outside our bedroom scratching at the door and begging to be let in.

At night she settles in on Mommy's right side, being kept warm by her lap, and the heat for her lap top. I lay on the left side. Pocket lays on the recliner with Daddy. Good enough for her.

At Bailey's house she has Mommy or Daddy holds her leash and she pees and then she comes back inside. At our house we go for a walk around the center island of our condo complex. She gets to stretch her legs, smell things, get caught up on tree mail, and scare the crap out of Daddy.

She did that when she slipped her collar. Bailey is a stubborn girl and she decided she wanted to stay behind us and Daddy gave her flexi leash a pull and her collar slipped right off of her. Then Bailey found her youth and began to prance across the grass. We were on our dual leash and we raced after her with Pocket barking and Daddy going "Bailey...Bailey...Bailey....Bailey." She was fast, but she doesn't have a lot of get up to her go and we caught her halfway across the lawn. Daddy carried her inside and barely slept that night. There is nothing worse then losing a dog you are baby sitting.

And Bailey is such a good walker. She stops and sniffs, and then when she begins to walk, with her tail up, she looks like a Clydesdale romping down the trail.

She likes to sleep at the end of the bed, I sleep in the middle and Pocket sleeps near the top at the end of the blanket. Every time Mommy shifts a little we shift with her. Yesterday morning she woke up and Bailey had forced her feet off the bottom of the bed. In a few more days we could have her off the bed completely, then we could go to work on Daddy. But we can't do it alone.

Plus Bailey eats so much better here. Mommy makes us special food, and she adds a touch of yogurt which is so yummy. Just dried kibble at Bailey's house: like a Chihuahua caught in Arizona without a license who spends the night in jail.

We've discussed how we can keep Bailey here when here family comes for her. We thought about her biting but she knows it's wrong, she isn't a violent dog, and she has the reflexes of Kirk Douglas at a rodeo. We thought about dog napping her but when we did that with Shakira we got in such trouble. Plus it cost us lots of kibble to mail Shakira back. Our plan right now is for Bailey to go and bury herself in Mommy's lap and put on such a moaning show they don't have the heart to take her away.

But it wont work. She'll go all crazy when she sees her family and leave with them and in the middle of the night sigh and start missing us. It's just a dog's life. But I did enjoy having her and will miss her very much.

I think her family should vacation more. Maybe an RV trip to Europe for a few months. Then we'd have time to sell the house, move, and keep Bailey forever. (Sigh) We can only dream.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Smoochy is our July 25, 2010 pup or the week



A couple of weeks ago, when I honored our pacifist dogs, I meant to include this week's Pup of the Week Smoochy because I remembered reading a story where Smoochy totally put a pugnacious pooch in it's place. But despite long nights of searching I could not find these postings. I started to wonder, if, at ten, I was beginning to imagine Smoochy posts so he was not included in that week's pup of the week. After I published it Hattie Mae told me that the pacifist posting was on Facebook. Holy tweet Batman! I had been barking up the wrong social network.

So I sent my friend Smoochy a message apologizing for not including him as our Pup of the Week. I promised him if he did anything interesting, like farting sideways I would make him Pup of the Week. But Mama Mia he went to such lengths.

Instead of breaking wind to the left he grew a giant mast cell tumor on his leg. Geeze, Smooch, there was no need to go to such extremes.

On Wednesday his mother found the large lump on his leg. Since Smooch had recently had an thorough exam these big bump had to be new.

Now, all the Moms here on the Tanner Brigade know everything there is to know about raising pups. I know it's redundant but I will repeat them for any new members who read this. (1) Find out what is wrong with your pup. (2) Panic.

By Thursday they were off to the dogtor. Now I wasn't there but I know what happened. The dogtor concentrated on everything except the giant disgusting lump on Smoochy's leg. And I'm betting this drove his Mommy into a tither and you don't want to be tithered.

Hattie Mae let us know what was going on and we all prayed hard as it seemed surgery was going to happen that day. But the dogtor, oh, he got tired. He told Smoochy to come back in one week. And what a long week it has been for all of his closest friends.

On the 28th the entire Brigade will meet in our church and pray that the surgery is successful and that the big ugly mass is just a big ugly mass of nothing.

We all know you are going to be just fine Smoochy. But we do want you to know how much we love you. How your blogs make us smile. How we love your pictures. How we look forward to your comments. How we are all proud to call you our friend.

So here's to you Smoochy, our Pup of the Week.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Foley's interview with her cousin Bailey

Foley: I am so excited. For the next week my older cousin Bailey will be here. She is 12. She has a profile on TB under Riley and Bailey. It is not very active. Daddy set it up because the grandgirls wanted to go on Tanner Brigade, but if they went on under our names they could shut down the whole site with just a few clicks. They are very destructive. So, since Bailey is here while her family goes to Wally World, I thought this would give you all a wonderful time to get to know her. So Bailey, how are you?

Bailey: I am 12 and tired and miss my Mom.

Foley: Great, how excited are you to be here?

Bailey: Your Daddy was kind enough to turn two pillows on the couch over for me. I am now lying, cuddled up on them.

Foley: What would you be doing if you were home right now?

Bailey: I would be sitting on two pillows on the couch lying, cuddled up.

Foley: Hmmm. How do you like being here with us?

Bailey: I love your Mommy, and I like your Daddy, and you're my favorite dog, but that Pocket. I was watching her tonight. Chasing the ball. Bringing it back. What is the point of that?

Foley: Oh, and she wears that diaper, isn't that funny?

Bailey: I have to wear a diaper to bed at night. I am 12 and get leaks.

(Awkward pause)

Foley: So do you miss your sister dog RIley the American Bull Dog?

Bailey: Oh God!. I hate that dog. Seriously, who has a 12 pound shih tzu and gets a 110 pound American bulldog? First day I tried to go Alpha on her and she picked me up and flipped me across the room.. And she has no manners. She's like Pocket if Pocket was on a football scholarship to the University of Miami. She knocks people over, jumps on them, runs over them, and she sticks her face in random crotches. Sunday night when your Daddy was sitting at the kitchen table she stuck his face right there and your Daddy yelled: "Dog in crotch!" I mean what man wants a dog in their crotch? Except for Mel Gibson.

Foley: How about your little human sisters?

Bailey: Of course I miss them. I love them very much. But only from about six inches or more away. I do not like having my personal space invaded, and those two are space invaders. They always want to hug or kiss or carry me. I'm 12. If you get picked up two or three times a day you now how many times that is over the course of a dozen years? After awhile you just need to be left alone. I don't mind Mommy picking me up, she is real gentle. But little girls, man, there ain't no gentle in little girls.

Foley: So what have you seen in the last 12 years of your life?

Bailey: When I first came to live with my Mommy it was just me, Mommy and Daddy and we were a happy family. Then along came Maddie, and you know, they have less time for you, and that's part of what we know going in. And then the second baby, and the big dog, and sometimes you wish it was just you and Mommy again you know?

Foley: Yeah, you know, you're depressing the crap out of me right now.

Bailey: Sorry. But you know: I come here, and it's quiet and there are no kids, and no big dumb slobbering dog, nobody trying to pick me up, and I get plenty of attention, and all I can think about is how much I miss my Mommy and Daddy and the baby girls. It's nice to spend time with all of you, but I can't wait to go home, I even miss the big dumb slobbering dogs. We're pups, we love our families, no matter what. What can we do?

Foley: I know. We just take one look at their big eyes, their cute little tales, their cute little walks, and we're in love for life. So what are your plans for the next week?

Bailey: Well, I plan to sit on the pillows on the couch, go out and pee, sit on the pillows on the couch, eat, sit on the pillows on the couch, pee, sit on the pillows on the couch, go to bed.

Foley: Last night you didn't want to stay in bed with us.

Bailey: It was my first night. I was a little scared. But I came up in the morning to get your Daddy to take me out to pee and then I spent the rest of the morning there so I guess I'll stay there all night until Mommy comes home.

Foley: There is one thing I have always admired about you. The way you are able to take about three dozen pees when you're outside.

Bailey: I learned that from your sister Blake actually. You see most dogs pee like a machine gun. But I prefer to pee like a single chamber rifle. Pee. Wait. Reload. Pee. Wait. Reload.

Foley: Oh if only I could get some control like that.

Bailey: Well I'm glad to have done this interview Foley. I need to sleep, those kids will be back before we know it.

Foley: Well thank you for the wonderful interview.

Bailey: Oh, and let me say thank you to Zoe Boe's wonderful Mother. Last Christmas your Mommy and Daddy hired her to do a beautiful drawing of me that hangs in our living room, and whenever I'm feeling down because I'm not getting attention I look at it and remember how much I'm loved.

Foley: Well we love you here too Bailey.

Bailey: I love your too Foley, night, night.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Dr Pocket's surgery plans for Daddy

After reading medical textbooks, searching Wikipedia from top to bottom, and watching five seasons of Grey's Anatomy I called Daddy into my office crate today to give him is diagnosis.

Even though I knew what I was going to say, I made him sit crunched up on the other side of my desk, while I looked down at his chart with my half glasses on and one of those light things on my head usually worn by spelunkers.

I think Daddy was nervous about his diagnosis because he was drumming his fingers on the floor. It also may have been that he had to twist himself into a pretzel to fit into my office. He asked me for his results but I held up a paw to cut him off and flipped through the last few pages.

There was a disagreement in the human doctors diagnosis. One said it was a umbilical hernia. The other said it was a gall bladder. Bur my conclusion was right on point. It was both!

"Both?" Daddy said. "What would make you think it was both?"

"Please don't argue with the doctor," I said. (The truth was, I didn't know which one it was so if I fixed them both how could I go wrong?)

Daddy looked at me skeptically and said he was thinking about going to a human doctor. I put my head down on my desk, looked up sadly with my brown eyes over my glasses, and gently sighed. Daddy smiled, scratched my ears, and told me if it made me happy he would be operated on by a five pound dogs with no medical training. What a good Daddy.

He began to ask me how I would perform the surgery but as a Doctor I think it is better that the patient knows as little as possible about the procedure since that's how much I know.

But, after discussing the situation with my attorney, Foley Monster, who is also representing Daddy, but as my attorney has assured me that there is no conflict, I began to think about how I would perform the surgery.

First I met with my anesthesiologist, Foley, to discuss how she would be putting Daddy under for the surgery. She said she would repeatedly hit him in the head with a skillet until he wasn't moving. Excellent.

Then I would start on the hernia. I am sharpening my dew claw so I can use it like I blade. I will then make an incision just above Daddy's belly button. Then, with my nose, I will shove his intestines above his belly button. Then I will take some tissue paper and stuff it up there to hold it in place. I will then pull the skin down. I have been gathering used floss because Daddy can never hit the bathroom trash basket (or anything else in the bathroom.) . I will take that floss, using my tongue put it through the eye, and then sew Daddy up with the floss.

Oh, but first I would have to do something about the gall bladder. Now this is what I learned about it on Wikipedia. Gall used to be French. Bladder is what makes you pee. I know this because mine is always full. Anyway, a gall bladder is a french pee holder, and Daddy isn't French, so that foreign body needs to come out. But how? Well this is what I devised.

We would tie a rope around Daddy's feet and then tie it to a beam in the cellar. Now I don't like to talk about these things but Daddy will be nekked. Now he has man parts that Foley, Mommy and Ken in Toy Story III don't have. I think if we pull his legs apart, I can take my sharp claws and dig into that thing. I will hold on with all my strength while Foley lifts him into the air by his feet. While I am being raised I will be tying a fish hook on the floss. Once Daddy is in the air I will begin the gall bladder removal.

I take the floss and drop it into the slit I made in his belly button. I slowly slip it down into his body while Foley holds up a book. It is a book about old Europe and I'm trying to tell, through my delicate sense of feel, where Gall is. Once I find it I well give it a good yank, the way you do when you catch a fish, then ease the Gall right out of his bladder, then stuff his belly button and put a strip of duct tape on there to hold everything together. Finally, my anesthesiologist will gently awaken our patient by cutting the rope and landing him on his head.

I think, after a month or two, Daddy should be back to slightly normal, which is all we expect from him now. Please don't tell him of my plans. Patients get all weird when they know a scrotum balancing dog is going to try to fish the lower part of France out of their belly button.

By the way, I am going to try to put a little camera on the fish hook so you can look forward to pictures too.

Yours in medicine: Dr. Pocket

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Fred is our July 18th pup of the week



To find our Pup of the week Pocket and I had to reach across the Universe to the Bridge to honor a friend who crossed over some time ago.

We are not honoring him because of what he did this week. We are honoring him for something he did years ago. For helping to make his Mom a wonderful, caring person, who loves all dogs, not just her own.

This week Fred's Mom Maria traveled from Argentina to Italy, and not for the normal reason a person would do so, to complete the third leg of the Amazing Race, but to meet another Brigade Mom.

She met our friends Paco's Mom at a little cafe in Rome. It is wonderful when our Mom's met. They are the most special people, and they have so much to talk about. Namely: Us.

Now Maria loves her Luca and Junior as much as any Mom loves their little puppies. But there is one dog that will always have her heart and that was Fred.

As everyone who knew Fred, and all his friends at the Bridge know, don't bother Fred during the World Cup. I heard from my friends at the Bridge, that from early in the morning until the sun set over the bridge, Fred would be surrounded by puppy beer, pretzels, Frosty Paws and Foleytinis, and have friends in and out all day with the only rules being wipe your paws, and never speak out against his beloved Argentina or their freaky couch Diego Maradona.

Now our Moms treasure what we leave behind when we go to the Bridge. They are little pieces of us left behind. But Fred's Mom decided to part with one of her little memories, and give it to Paco, because his beautiful little face reminds her of Fred. It was such a wonderful gesture it filled all eight eyes in our house with tears. And we know from his blog how it touched Paco's house. There is no greater tribute you can pay to another then to give them something from your heart and that is what Fred's Mom Maria did.

And a big tip of the tail to Paco for wearing an Argentine World Cup colors in Italy. Mama-mia! That takes quite a red rocket Paco. You do look very happy in it.

So, because he helped his Mom become the wonderful, generous person that she is, and for passing on one of his treasured items to another Bridge member: Fred is our Pup of the Week.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Where Foley discusses her sour stomach and reaches a conclusion on what caused it

What a week we have had. The baby sitting, the wonderful meeting with Ms. Laura and Pokey, you know sometimes a girl just needs to unwind. So Saturday night, after Mommy, Papa and Pocket fell asleep I snuck out the door and went down to my favorite watering hole, Smitty's Pub on Bay Street.

I shouldn't go to Smitty's. It's a bit of a rough spot. But when I stroll in everyone yells out "Monstah!" I take my stool at the end of the bar, pull out a cigar, order up a Foleytini, and sit back and enjoy myself a smoke.

Of course some Guido came in and thought he could shoot some stick better than me. I let him get up a couple of games, then ran the table, won me some kibble, which I cashed in for some more Foleytinis.

I was surprised to see sun light coming through the grimy windows and I staggered home, up the stairs and, after three wobbly tries, was able to jump into bed without my Mom being none the wiser.

I am not as young as I used to be, so I spent most of the day Sunday just relaxing, on a lap here, or a couch there. I did make sure I had some big meals to absorb the Foleytinis.

Slept well Sunday night. Ate well Monday morning. Then threw it up. I was stunned. I am the Monster. I don't throw up. And then, whut-wo. I felt waves rolling through my body from the tip of my nose to the point of my tail. I mean that's about eight inches of yuck.

I needed a place to sit down. I looked for Mommy but she was downstairs knocking down walls because the cellar had the gall to get water in it earlier this year. I had no one.

Then I saw Pocket. "Unh-uhh Sister Disco," she said. "You got drunk the night after we went to see Pokey, you get what you deserve." I proclaimed my innocence. "Then explain to me why I woke up next to a strange Daschund Sunday morning!" she asked. Well she had me there. Me and my shapely tail have got me in trouble more than once.

"Okay, Pocket, just don't tell Mommy," I asked. She promised. Then we heard Mommy coming up the stairs. She was sweaty, limping, bent in pain, which made it easier to see my vomit.

"Oh my gosh what has happened here?" she asked.

"Foley got drunk Saturday night, brought home some strange, and now she's got an upset stomach or a Doxie transmitted disease."

Mommy looked down at me frowning, and I looked up with my deep, brown, sad eyes like puddles of sorrow.

"Oh my poor baby! Are you not feeling well?" she asked. Score! I sadly sunk down to the floor and she picked me up so she could keep an eye on me while she got ready to go out.

From the desk of Pocket Dog: Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? She goes out, gets drunk, gets sick, and now she is being pampered over? I drink a bowl and a half of water, have to piddle, everyone is busy, probably fussing over that little Monster, I pee, and it's the end of the freaking world. And you know what? It will never end Someday, hopefully years from now Monster will go to the Bridge and it will be my time to be number one, but Mommy and Daddy will run out and get another puppy and go all gaga over it and there I'll be in my hand me down Salvation Army dress.

I lay on the bathroom floor while Mommy cleaned up nice. I put my paws flat on the floor, then my head on the floor between the paws, and I looked up so Mommy could see the whites of my eyes. In the world of dogs this is known as the kill position. Humans cannot resist it. When she came out of bathroom I rolled over on my side and panted and Mommy gave me a scratch.

She carried me downstairs, gently placed me in her recliner, did the laundry, came back up, and I climbed up to snuggled in her lap, and then Uh-Oh. It was like someone was pumping air right into my tender belly and it had no where to go. There were lightning bolts zipping back and forth around me. And the farts. One lifted me two feet off the recliner.

And food, Daddy put some down and I couldn't even look at it. The smell set off little belly bombs. I just wanted bed, and soon I was carried to my nice mattress. But even there, my place of comfort, my stomach would not settle, and I wouldn't look at the offered kibble. Daddy was waiting for his nightly licks where I lick every bit of sweat from his face and arms but not even that appealed to me.

Of course this made Daddy fret. I lay down next to Mommy and he spent the longest time scratching my butt, which was nice, I lay down next to Mommy, and Pocket came up with me, and we snuggled as a family and that helped settle my little stomach.

I felt a little better in the morning. Mommy made some chicken and rice and I ate most of it. Then Mommy and Daddy, who were feeling a little relieved at my slowly returning appetite, began to discuss what could have caused the sour stomach.

They decided it was the food they put me on. They had been mixing it in with an old one, then Mommy saw it had brown rice, and remembered brown rice didn't agree with me. So it was time to go back to the old food. Mystery solved. It was quite scary, but hopefully this will never happen again. Brown rice? Who would have guessed it caused so much trouble.

From the desk of Pocket Dog: What? Are you kidding me? Brown rice? She got drunk on too many Foleytinies. For heaven's sake read the blog! Oh I don't believe this. She gets away with everything. I'm sure she'll be out again this weekend. Wonder what they'll blame her next hangover on? Carrots? She has them so fooled. Boy, do I wish I was more like Foley.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Foley and Pocket discuss their adventures in babysitting

Foley: Wow! What a day we had on Thursday, our oldest sister brought our grandbabies over in the morning, and at night we helped Mommy babysit a whole other set of grandbabies. If it wasn't for Pocket yakking all day it would have been perfect.

Pocket: I did not yak all day. I yakked maybe once the night before, and I don't know who yakked after that.

Foley: Oh it's you, yak, yak yak. You yakked in the bed while we were sleeping then slept on Mommy's head the rest of the night leaving me in the wet spot. You know the puppy rules: You yak in the bed you sleep in it.

Pocket: Yes, True. I did yak in the bed and I yakked that morning. It's the heat. I don't like it.

Foley: Oh puppy up for heaven sakes! I'm ten years old an I'm out there walking in the heat, a youngster like you should be able to put up with the heat all day.

Pocket: Well you yakked on sister number two's rug, in her home, where she sleeps, where her children come and play with their toys.

Foley: It's that damn leather furniture, makes me sick every time, it's like lying on hot coals. Plus I was sitting next to your yak face makes me sick. Yak face always makes me sick.

Pocket: How would you know I had yak face whenever I tried to get up on the leather chair with you and Mommy you began snapping, snarling, and growling.

Foley: I didn't want your yak face messing up sister number two's leather chair.

Pocket: You just didn't want me sitting with Mommy. You are so territorial.

Foley: First of all, one of us needed to be on the floor playing with the children, the other sitting in the leather chair watching. I am ten. I am no longer a player. So Mommy and I had to watch. That meant you had to play with the children. And to tell you the truth I was not happy at all in the way you played with them. You need to engage them, roll on your back and get belly rubs, jump and dance for them. In fact, to be truthful, your performance was so poor that's why I yakked.

Pocket: You yakked because you drank a whole bowl of water when we came inside.

Foley: It was hot and I wanted to get my water before your yak face got in it.

Pocket: Yeah, then I got yakky water. But it was hot.

Foley: Yeah, hot.

Pocket: Yup, a scorcher.

Foley: Uh-hum. (Awkward pause) Soooooo

Pocket: Anyway, you scratched Mommy's arm in one of the six or seven times we got into a fight over the chair.

Foley: I told you to stay down and play with the children while I supervised and you kept trying to get into the supervisors chair.

Pocket: I got tired and the kids weren't playing with me they were hitting Daddy in the face with stuffed animals.

Foley: Oh my God that was so funny, Daddy's glasses went flying, his nose got smushed. Hah hah hah ah

Pocket: Hah Hah Hah Hah, yeah, geeze.

Foley: Hah. You know, one of the times we fought you were so viscous Daddy had to let our oldest grandbaby Mackenzie pick you up.

Pocket: Daddy said he wanted to see how she would handle because she might get her own dog in the spring.

Foley: Oh bull Daddy just got tired of getting up and separating us.

Pocket: Plus I think he was knocked silly by the stuffed animals.

Foley: Yeah. You know every time we fought little Emily and Kiley went running out of the room like we were ferocious lions.

Pocket: Oh, that was so cool! They went out yelling like they were scared of us.

Foley: Oh, I loved that. To be honest the last few times I fought with you was just to make them run.

Pocket: I know. You'd think Mommy and Daddy would have noticed we stopped fighting when they went to bed.

Foley: Oh well Daddy was knocked silly and Mommy is old. She has to be old. She has a ten year old dog for heaven's sake.

Pocket: And how about that walk after Mackenzie went to bed?

Foley: Oh, in that ritzy neighborhood they live in with the big houses out in the woods. There are all sorts of coyotes, foxes and wolves out in those parts and none of them came out to mess with us.

Pocket: Because they heard the ferocious Yorkies fighting in the house.

Foley: Yup, that was the plan. That and scaring the two small humans.

Pocket: I don't know why Daddy took us for a walk when Mackenzie went to bed.

Foley: Because when Emily and Kiley went to bed and you stayed downstairs with Daddy and Mackenzie you cried out whined for ten minutes.

Pocket: I don't like when Mommy is out of sight, you know that, I don't know if she's coming back.

Foley: Of course she's coming back, she's coming back for me, and for some reason you are always with me, so you're fine.

Pocket: Will I ever be as self assured as you are?

Foley: Oh Pocket, of course not. But once Mackenzie went to bed we settled down together with Mommy in the leather chair.

Pocket. Yeah, every time I rolled over it was like I was leaving a layer of skin from my who who on the chair.

Foley: You know that's like cow skin. Who would want to sit on a cow?

Pocket: Well, another cow.

Foley: I finally fell asleep, how about you?

Pocket: Yeah, I could fall asleep with Mommy lying in a bed of fire.

Foley: Yeah, me too. I do think we did an excellent job baby sitting.

Pocket: Me too, want to lie down and go to sleep agian?

Foley: Sounds good to me, you never know when we need to babysit again?

(Foley: Our yakking only got worse, I will be back with another blog soon about my tunny troubles and my sudden love of rice. You know, same Tanner time, same Tanner channel.)

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Lovers not fighters: Shiloh and Otis are our pups of the week





We come this week to praise those pups who are lickers not fighters. On three different occasions our Pups of the Week had a chance to fight and chose to turn away from their in born puppy aggression and take the high road, a valuable lesson for all of us.

Our first pup is our friend from Washington, the gentle Shiloh. Her Mom and Dad took her for a lovely morning at their neighborhood dog park where like minded dogs were enjoying frolicking in the sunshine. Unfortunately it only takes one little dog to stir up trouble and this one decided to pick a fight with Shiloh. Shiloh got bit on the mouth and neck. But instead of ripping the little whipper snapper to shreds Shiloh retreated to her Mom for some comforting scratches and love.

Then there is our man Otis. He was out for a walk with his Mom when another Mom, who obviously should not be allowed to own a pup of her own, had taken her giant bear like dog to walk, without a leash. The big bear dog took off after our vision impaired friend ready to attack. But Otis, a gentleman through and through, was able to avoid a confrontation with this dog, and peace prevailed. Momentarily.

Because then, in the words of Otis' Mom, she went Billy Jack on the owners' ass. (For those of you who don't know he was the coolest guy in the movies ever.) She took names, she kicked ass, and she made sure that Otis would never be attacked on a walk again less the owner wanted a can of whup ass opened on them.

But I don't want you to think that Otis' Mom doesn't have the world's biggest heart. She saved a sweet kitty (I love sweet kitties, not big cats with all their tail in the air dancing with Paula Abdul attitude) and found a good home for it, and gave it to her new Mom, even after she fell in love with the kitty, and it broke her heart to do so. She was able to deal with her sadness when she went to the owner of the dog's house who attacked Otis and smashed out her brake lights with a baseball bat. Then One Tin Solider walked away.

Which brings us back to Shiloh and her wonderful Mom. We saw with our own eight eyes the wonderful book she did for Ms Laura about Cooper. Behind every great dog there is a great woman holding a leash telling us to sit and getting frustrated.

And an honorable mention for Scooter George. We know this is an anti violence pup of the week, and you did bite and intruder's hand, but that lollipop stuck her hand where it didn't belong and you were protecting your property so she deserved it and we will back you up with the entire Brigade if anyone says differently. But you may want to dye you fur, change your name and maybe remove a couple of teeth to change your bite radius. But we're still you with Scooter George.

So congratulations to Otis and Shiloh, our pups of the week, their wonderful Mom, and an honorable Pupmention to Scooter George for knowing when it the time to fight. When the person who is attacking you is on the other side of a fence and can't touch you.

Fine dogs all.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Our visit with Ms Laura and Pokey Lunn

This morning Pocket and I thought was going to be just another boring Saturday: Bath, humans eating donuts, us not eating donuts, mysterious poo dropping, bedroom time while Mommy and Daddy go shopping and "dining" then sitting with them when they pass out for over "dining."

But today, no, no, no, not today. After donuts and after Mommy put her hair and face on they got our leash, dressed Pocket in her new skirt (OK, yes, Pocket has a skirt. Mommy and Daddy are having her wear it when she has to wear her diaper so she doesn't look as funny. Looks the same to me) and put us on our leash and plopped us in the back of the car.

I didn't know where we were going. To one of our sisters? Our brother? Aunt Bev? The groomers? But once we were in the car for more than a half hour I knew we were going somewhere special. Pocket wasn't as clever, stopping to look out the window, bark and whine, whenever we slowed down to 30 MPH.

That freaky little box was barking out directions and Daddy was doing his best to keep up with her even in he got yelled at a few times. Then we came to a pretty ranch, sitting up on a hill, and the box said we had arrived

There was a woman standing in the door, and a doggy, but there were steps, and Mommy and Daddy insisted we pee before we go inside. I peed but Pocket said she didn't have to. So we went inside.

And guess who it was? Well if you don't know then you're the type of dog who reads a blog without reading the title so go read it. I'll wait....... OK, see, yes, it was Pokey and Ms. Laura.

Pokey was being held on a leash, and we were on our leash, and there were three dogs barking up a storm. Then Pocket peed on Ms. Laura's floor. So unprofessional.

Ms. Laura still has a large cast on her arm from the incident which must not be spoken. She was in lots of pain. But she was such a wonderful hostess. She gave me some scratches. She picked us both up but we got nervous about hurting her so we scratched at her until she put us down. Somehow that logic is flawed but I don't know how.

Pokey, Pocket and I did a lot of talking. We didn't wear our translation collars so Ms. Laura, Mommy and Daddy didn't know what we were talking about but we wanted it that way. All they heard was BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK.



Yeah, we talked about a lot. Our favorite walks, how much we love our Mommies, what we like for treats, why Pocket was wearing a dress (at one point, for about five minutes, Pokey just looked at Pocket with that head tilt thing going on and the look in the eyes of WTF?)



Pokey promised to back me up when it's time to pay the weasels which is so much better then a Yorkie in a dress to cover her diaper. We talked about how we care for our Mommies when they are sick Then Dr Pocket got over her nervousness, remembered her oath, and took off Ms. Laura's bandage so she could have some relief. Dr. Pocket is an excellent Doctor. She's only a fair dog but she's an excellent doctor.

Ms. Laura's house is so wonderful it protected us from a terrible thunderstorm that left some of the neighborhoods near her under water. If there is ever a disaster that is where you want to go.

Way too quickly it was time for us to go home. We said our goodbyes and we promised to get together again when everyone is much healthier.

So we want to thank Ms. Laura and Pokey for giving us a wonderful afternoon. They could not have been better hosts or made us feel more at home. We would like you all to say a little prayer for her tonight so she recovers, gets back to golfing and taking the Pokster for long walks.

And thank you to Ms Laura for the pictures that we borrowed from her Facebook . She takes better one handed pictures then Mommy does with two hands.

And finally, if you find yourself in New England, look her up. There is not better place on the East Coast for a pup or parent to spend a day.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Foley's Birthday Party Blog

I would like to thank all the pups who came to my birthday party on Monday. I lapped up so many Foleytinis I can barely remember what happened. It's a good thing we walk on four legs so when we pass out we are not far from the ground.

Pocket led me to the birthday area at the Tanner Memorial Dog Park. There was a big banner hanging over the Tanner and Sophie statues that said "Happy Tenth Birthday Foley Monster." In the middle was a beautiful, ornate fountain.

I walked over to it and Pocket told me to take a lick. I did, and it was filled with wonderfully cool Foleytinis. I began to lap up quickly but Pocket put a paw on my shoulder and told me to slow down.

Then my friends began to arrive. Excuse me if I don't remember all of you, I was deep in my bowls and my memory is fuzzy. I remember Smoochy and MacDougal bringing birthday balloons which are so much more fun then my every day balloons. Blazer taught us how to make Smores, using beef jerky instead of chocolate and they were just about the best thing I have ever tasted. I don't remember who brought the hamburgers, hot dogs and ice cream but they were all first rate. It was wonderful to watch Rugie put her feet on the end of the table, tip it, and let all the hamburgers slide down his throat.

Roland came pushing our healing Savannah in a wagon. I had hired a masseuse to help pups like Savannah who had injuries. But we had to chase him off when Hattie found out he was just a weird guy who like giving belly rubs.

Sage and Saffron were there. Sage had to be careful with what he ate because he had a big dogtor's appointment the next day but we still let him down some refreshing Foleytinis. When Cali and Hurley came we broke up into teams for World Cup frisbee, Whiskey appointed himself fountain watcher and never let it run dry. Mollie did a fine job of refereeing and keeping score.

We couldn't keep Lilly, Moe, Scooter, Jack & Jill from jumping into the fountain but we soon got those water loving dogs out and into a wading pool. Shiloh's Space then came over with her guitar and Leo joined her on drums and we all began to sing. While we were Pokey stopped by, he doesn't like leaving his Mom's side but he had a big container of bubbles and we began to blow them up into the air. It was very peaceful as Hattie danced for us, while Zoe painted my birthday picture.

I went back and laid down and looked up in the sky where we saw Tanner, Sophie, Teddie, Pepsi, Kenya, Morgan and other friends we lost riding on the bubbles looking down and waving at us.

Then Pocket was ready to set off her silent fireworks and they were spectacular. Exploding in the sky and not a sound to be made. Well, except Pocket yelling "Ouch!" every time she lit a match. Next year we are going to work on fire less fire works. What bothers me about that is that it could just turn out to be work.

So we're already planning birthday number 11. Hope to see you all there.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Savannah and Sage are our July 4th pups of the week




You know what we were able to do this week as a group that we have never been able to do before? Go for a walk: Thanks to a brilliant idea by Sage to help our friend Savannah.

This is how two pups, from separate states, separate families, became our pups of the week. One who had a need, and another kind enough to virtually try to fulfill that need.

Our friend Savannah has had a leg surgery and now the dogtors wants her to put weight on it. But when she does it hurts.

Us dogs don't have much time for pain. We have short lives and we would like to spend it as comfortable as possible. Why put pressure on a fourth leg that hurts when we can get around perfectly on three legs? But Savannah's Mommy is feeling some stress because she wants her baby to be back to normal.

While we are the Internet's closest wireless family there is only so much we can do, to give support, prayer, and an occasional big smile.

But the brilliance of Sage's idea was that it got Savannah on her feet, even if it was just her cyber feet, and out on a walk.

We not only (hopefully) helped Savannah get on her feet but we got to experience what all our friends experience on their walks.

Then, in our dreams, we all got together with Savannah and we walked, then ran, and even romped, so she could remember what it was like to be free, to feel the grass under all four paws, and propel ourselves forward like a new born stallion enjoying it's first free dash in a lush meadow.

Now we don't know what happened when Savannah awoke, if she remembered her dream and ran around the house, or if her dream faded away like some do.

But regardless, for bringing us all together, and for showing us the power of hope, prayer, friendship and courage, Sage and Savannah are our Pups of the Week/

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Foley Monster's First Half of 2010 Rap

I have noticed lots of the kids out there now are into this new "rap" or "hip hop" music. I, being the distinguished writer that I am, have decided to dip my hand in the rap or hip hop well. I tell the young pups in my writing class that they should write what they know. So, my first try at writing a rap song will be called" My First Half of 2010 Rap a year that's begun like crap!"

It's 2010 and I'm glad it's half way over
It's feeling like someone stepped on my four leaf clover
It's been so bad, this 2010
Like getting your arm chewed off by not so Gentle Ben

It started in winter so cold and dark
Every time my whowho hit the ground I had to bark
Looked forward to coming into the house all toasty and warm
Then the furnace broke left us shivering and in harm

Didn't have it for two days, we were all going to freeze
To keep warm Mommy and Daddy wore us Yorkies on their knees
Finally the furnace came to keep us warm with heat
Plumber took most of our money then made tracks with his feet

All winter our Nana had taken ill
Nothing that could be cured by no ordinary pill
Doctor said come on in, we'll do a simple op
Never again spent a night home alone with pop

While Nana's in the hospital fighting for her life
Two weeks of constant rain added to our strife
First thing to happen was a broke sump pump
Cellar fills with liquid like Dr Pepper inside the bladder of Forrest Gump

Plumber comes over says he fixed the pump
Next morning broken again, out of bed did Mommy jump
Finally a new pump install
In our finished basement mold climbed the wall

Then the hot water heater died
Mommy sat in the basement and cried
To get the pilot lit her and Daddy were bailin'
Meanwhile Pocket and I around the cellar were sailin'

For weeks had water down there driving Mommy crazy
Meanwhile Daddy and Papa driving to Boston making each other crazy
Nana sent to New Bedford rehab for healing
Never send Nana to get better in a city known for whaling

Cellar drying out, Mommy and Daddy knocking down walls
Throwing out stuff until the dumpster they had to crawl
Made Mommy's bad knee even worse
Started wondering if we were under some curse

At the hospital Nana gets a bad infection called C-Difff
In her tummy, didn't want no visits, afraid they'd get a whiff
Doctors said they would have it taken care of in a jiff
Would have been more compassionate if they drove her off a cliff

Meanwhile back at the ranch Mommy found strange colors and a lump
Into her throat her heart did jump
A sad call to the Doctor was made
And we all sat up at night and prayed

Nana's infection was gone the doctors assured
Right about the time she became uninsured
Two days later she went into septic shock
Infection ate through her colon said the surprised doc

Mommy went to the doctor and got rare good news
Nothing to worry about, don't need to pay dues
Mommy and Daddy thought they could sleep through the night
But at midnight came the call that Nana had no more fight

More sad days and nights, we comforted with sweet licks
Making this worse Dad's bitch sister and her husband the dick
But we Pups helped them get through like we always do
Even if Pocket has trouble containing her poo

We now deserved some good news for heaven sake
Two weeks later our washing machine did break
Mommy got to hang out at the Laundramat
It'd been a long time but inside was the same pervert

Then came the night when Daddy's belly broke
Mommy worried so much her sweat gave the sheets a soak
Thankfully he will be all right after the docs operate
But then I think of what the Doctors said to Nana and think wait

Friday Mommy and Daddy had a relaxing day in Bristol RI
No reasons to worry or cry
Later that day, by the new washer, laundry they were folding
And they sighed as at their feet a new puddle was growing

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Paging Dr. Pocket, Dr. Pocket Dog Pocket

Well after a difficult night I think Pocket and I have come upon some good fortune. It started Saturday. We went to the groomers to be made beautiful..(I have no idea why they pay people to make us beautiful. It just happens.) While we were being groomed they went out to eat. They picked us up, we went home, we napped, and then the trouble began.

First Daddy began to play the smelly trumpet out of his butt. Then he began to lollipop and moan. Pocket and I did not pay much attention. We thought it was his regular Saturday night whining. Then, while watching Dr. Who (Spoiler alert: Van Gogh still dies in the end) he was on the floor breathing slowly with his stomach distended like he was about to have a litter and complaining that he had a dozen Matildas romping on his chest.

Mommy wanted to take him to this hospital. Daddy wanted to go to bed. I wanted to go to bed. Pocket wanted to lick her fluffy. By noon the next day it was only Pocket who would be truly satisfied.

Daddy was in bed, and Mommy was nervous. He tried to lay perfectly still like a sultry night. Breathing quite slowly. I sat next to him, licking his face, because I have no self control. Pocket, having recently become a doctor, decided to do some of her own testing, and jumped right on his stomach. Daddy let out a full blooded gawp of pain and swatted Pocket off his tummy which is no way to treat your attending physician.

Pocket went under the sheet to study her notes. I gave Daddy comforting licks then joined her for an under cover consult. Pocket reviewed her notes and said she believed Daddy was suffering from an umbilical hernia. I was quite impressed with the young Doctor. Then again, Daddy had been insisting he was not having a heart attack and had aggravated his umbilical hernia. But Pocket doesn't listen, so it is quite possible she developed this diagnosis on her own.

The lights were shut and Daddy laid there going, "whho-usssh, whoo-ussh" until he stood up and announced he was going to try to sleep downstairs in the recliner. Well this pissed me off. There is nothing I can't stand more then when the humans are getting in and out of bed all night. Daddy went down to the recliner, then on the couch, then upstairs in bed, then down again, then up again, I mean how is a Yorkie supposed to get her beauty sleep?

Then Mommy mumbled that they should go to the hospital and he would mumble no. I mumbled to Pocket if she was sure he wasn't having a heart attack. Pocket mumbled she would check and leaped on to Daddy's chest. That was the last mumbling done that night. Daddy made a noise he had never made before as he tossed Pocket off his chest. He sat up, then doubled over, grimacing in pain. "He is certainly one difficult patient," Pocket said licking her paws.

Daddy still didn't want to go, and he lay snuggled with us, until the daylight crept in the windows, and he got up, hooked up us girls, and took us out for morning business. Oh Sunday morning! Wet dew upon my piggy toes! A fine pee after a restless night. A snippet of treat before breakfast. We huddled like refugees at the bottom of the stairs and Mommy quickly snatched and dropped all her morning items in the bathroom. Then she came downstairs, as beautiful as ever, picked us up, and, hey, wait a minute, turned around and began to carry us back upstairs.

What! You're taking him to the hospital now? After Dr. Pocket made her diagnosis? Putting us upstairs in the sun time? No breakfast? No bacon table scraps? What a gyp! Mommy put Pocket in her crate and me on my blanket and left. "You can disagree with a diagnosis but you can't create modern medicine!" Pocket barked, but they were gone.

At first we were angry, then we slowly became worried, and then frantic, then tired. That was all before Mommy got Daddy in the car and on the road. I slept in the sun for awhile, woke up and smelled the door, asked Dr Pocket her opinion. She told me he would be right back here once the doctor jumped on him and pressed his toe nails in him and Daddy tossed him off his chest.

It took them for half past forever to come home. It was Daddy, walking more upright, not as sweaty, who came to get us for our pee for second breakfast. They sat down to talk. Pocket and I sat to listen. But there were squirrels and kitties outside begging us to bark at then. This is what we learned.,

Like Daddy said he has a hernia in his belly button. He's silly. And he strained it. Or he had a gall bladder attack. Dr. Pocket said this was unlikely since France hasn't attacked anyone for years.

In a couple of weeks Daddy is going to have an ultra nerd....wait......an ultra sound....my notes say ultra nerd to have ultra sound. I'm confused. Then, and this is the exciting part, Daddy is going to have an operation or two.

And this is where Dr Pocket will earn her highlights. We have gone to the Tanner Brigade Store and ordered the Tanner Brigade home aid kit. Once we know what's wrong, we'll wait for Daddy to fall asleep and then slit him open like marine biologists looking for a Yugo in the belly of a shark.

I will be there for two reasons. The first is as a scrub nurse. The second will be as my primary roll as a lawyer. I will represent Mommy after Pocket lets Daddy bleed out on the new sheets.

So, I am looking forward to this summer. This is a blog with legs. It could keep going for weeks. What's wrong with Daddy? Will he have to have an operation? Will Dr. Pocket perform it? Will Mommy be able to stop her? Who will Hattie Mae choose? And what about Wilhomenia?

Be sure to check back on: same blog page, same blog address