Friday, April 20, 2018

Shiloh Finds Her Mom a Dakota



When angels arrive at the Bridge one of their sacred duties is, if their parents wish, to find the perfect dog to become their mom and dad’s constant loving companion.  Angels know how much pain their departure caused those left behind and the only way to start healing is to fill the void they created.

There are several different methods to reach this goal.  Some angels scour the Internet for rescue dogs and then slip into their dreams to explain their parents’ specific needs and see if there is a pup that meets the requirements.  Others go to the puppy creation room to interview those yet to be born to see if they can sculpt their parents the perfect dog.

Shiloh has always been intune with the stars and the way of the cosmos.  While she was in the mortal realm, she was known for her accurate horoscopes and when we were in a quandary many of us turned to Shiloh knowing her stargazing would lead to a solution.

It was no surprise when Shiloh eschewed all the traditional ways of finding her parent’s a new pup and relied on the constellations and planets to lead her to the perfect dog.  This week Shiloh found her.

Shiloh’s mom was looking for a small to medium sized female, with an age range from puppy to young adult.  While Shiloh was star gazing she looked up to see the regal name, Dakota. Then she set out to find her.

During a dream, Shiloh convinced her mom to fill out applications with three local rescue groups.  Shiloh searched all the dogs connected to the rescues and found Dakota It took a little angel manipulation for Shiloh to get the people running the rescue to call her mom and tell her that “they’ had found a match for her, a 26-month-old, 14 pound Papillon mix who was, of course, named Dakota.

When we find the right dog most of us worry that something will go wrong before the new pup arrives home but Shiloh had no such concerns.  She knew it was written in the stars and nothing could stop Dakota from entering her parent's lives.

And Shiloh was right.  There was no cause to worry.  Dakota is now at Shiloh’s house sleeping where Shiloh slept, playing where Shiloh played and taking a space in her parent’s hearts near the spot that broke when the stargazer went to the Bridge.  Dakota can’t repair their hearts, but through love and good memories, she can create something new and strong on the foundation built by Shiloh’s love.


Shiloh has not stopped searching the stars for answers, but she is very grateful that the biggest question has been answered by Dakota.  Every time her parents rub Dakota Shiloh can feel it, and it fills her heart with love.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

River Fights For Her Right To Chew Her Paw

What is the world coming to when a dog can’t lick her own foot.?
I have been enjoying some really good foot licking lately. It is my back left paw, one that’s easy to reach.  And it is mine. It isn’t a toy sent to me that I have to share. It is solely mine, and I should be the one to decide what I do with it.

Lately, my paw has been itchy.  There is nothing more satisfying than licking an itchy paw.  It is something we can do that only the most limber of our parents can match.  I am sure they watch us going to town on our paw and think “I wish I could do that.”

Last fall I was doing the same to my front paw.  My parent butted in and dragged me to the vet. They gave me medication that stopped the itching and the licking.  I understood their logic because I was limping. There was no limping this year and no need for parental interference.

Of course, that never stopped a parent.  Just the appearance of slight tenderness on my paw pad sent them into a tizzy.  Thankfully the vet, tired of my parents’ constant calls, agreed with me, that there was no need for a visit, but did prescribe the prednisone.
I should have refused to eat it, but the food is my weakness.  You could bury a burnt turd in my dinner, and I would gobble it down, so I took their pill.  As far as I was concerned the matter was closed.

But as soon as I began to satisfy my itch, I was yelled at:  “Stop licking!” Excuse me? Do I tell you to stop scratching and I have seen you scratching in some nasty places.  Even Shylock in a Merchant of Venice stated: “It we itch do we, not scratch? Shylock’s parents weren’t chasing him around Italy demanding he cease licking.

I have been taking the prednisone for a few days, and my urge to lick has lessened, but I still try only to be scolded by my parents who are now trying to control my bodily functions.  

My sisters lead the movement for “Freedom to Bark,” and now hundreds of dogs are barking their thoughts across social media.

Now I pick up their mantle, and I am leading the “Freedom to Lick” movement.
Itchy paws matter.


Stick with me my friends, and we shall overcome.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Beat This Caption

Come on in.  I am still working in the kitchen.  Go to the bar, feel free to make yourself a drink and you can either wait in the library or on the veranda.  

Monday, April 16, 2018

MONDAY QUESTION

How many different types of treats do you eat?

Pocket:  Because of my tummy we can only have a few things.  Our main treats are Sizzzler strips.  we also get some chicken and turkey which is yummy..

Sunday, April 15, 2018

JESSIE IS OUR APRIL 15 2018 PUP OF THE WEEK


We dogs have lucky lives.  Some of us stay on the mortal side for many years, and others only get a short amount of time with our parents.  But those of us with short lives can squeeze 16 years of love in less than a quarter of the time.

That is certainly true of Jessie from the Legacy Chronicles.  She had less than four years with her family. When she was a year and a half, she was diagnosed with chronic renal failure.   A year ago the vet told her parents that there was no additional medication she could be given. Jessie needed to keep taking what was prescribed and live for the day, which she did very well and with great enthusiasm.  

Last Monday Jessie’s mom knew the medication had done all it could for her girl.  She had been growing more lethargic and not eating. Finally, she would not go on her walk  Jessie was taken to the vet. Her mom expected to either aid Jessie to the Bridge or be told her journey would end in a few days.  Instead, she got more medication and a lot of confusion.

Moms usually know when it is our time.  Vets are taught to preserve life and sometimes try to do so when letting go is the answer.  Jessie was given the new medication and had her camel treatments increased, but she only slowly grew worse.
Two days later her mom made the ultimate sacrifice, and she sent Jessie to the Bridge a month short of her fourth birthday.

But boy, did Jessie fill a lifetime of love and adventure into less than four years.  She started out as a foster dog but as soon as her mom encountered Jessie’s infectious personality, big smile, and goofy nature she knew that this silly girl was at her forever home.

Jessie managed a million goofy smiles in her short life and four times that many licks.  She became best friends with her sibling Casey and also with her reluctant cat sibling Pigeon who firmly bonded with the much larger dog.  Jessie loved everything she saw immensely. She had to; she didn’t have time for anything else.

Except for energy:  For running, for playing, for embracing life, and snuggles.  She never lost her puppy energy. She used up every ounce.

When Jessie arrived at the Bridge, she was met by the dog who had chosen her.  Cinderella crossed over before Casey and then picked the happy pup for her family.  Cinderella knew Casey would not have a long life but that she would fill her family with a lifetime of energy and love.

Dogs who arrive at the Bridge after suffering from a genetic defect rarely know life without discomfort.   After crossing over, they feel a wave of joy when they realize they are pain-free. Jessie felt it as soon as she crossed the Bridge.  She ran right past us. She felt so good she kept running for hours. Then, when she got her wings, she flew even longer.

We angels feel terrible for the parents of young dogs when the pups arrive on the immortal side.  We know the unbearable sadness they experience and the feeling that they have been robbed of love and time.  We say special prayers for them every day.

We are also grateful for the playful energy young angels bring us, and no dog has a greater abundance of that than Jessie.  When she arrived here, it was like the Bridge had been plugged in and lit up. She has given us all more energy and has everyone loving and playing more.

We measure lives by days, but we should measure it by love.


By that measure, Jessie lived a good long life

Friday, April 13, 2018

Hobo Hudson at Twilight


Hobo Hudson opened his eyes.  He was tucked in his bed under several warm comforters.  He smiled when he saw his devoted wife Lily nervously sitting in a bedside chair.  Hobo held out his paw, and Lily grasped it. “My dear,” he said hoarsely, “I hate to see tears in your lovely eyes, you are so beautiful.”


Hobo’s Mom, having heard his voice, entered the room to check on her beloved boy.  She made sure he had food and water. “Is it time for one of those awful shots?” Hobo asked, referring to the medication he needed every other day.  His Mom patted his head and told him no. He smiled. Before she left Hobo took her paw in his. “You know I love you don’t you Mommy?” he asked.  She kissed him and told him she did. “And tell the old man I love him too,” Hobo said loudly after smelling his dad milling outside his door. His mom assured him she would.  Before she left his mom, put a hand on Lily’s shoulder, and they shared a knowing look.


“Would you like me to read to you?” Lily asked.  She nodded to Hobo’s book, “The Richest Dog in Town.”


“Not now my dear,” he said.  He looked at the book cover. “What an appropriate title.  I am the richest dog in town Years ago I was outside all day tied to a tree when my parents offered to take me from my owner and into their home.  From there I became more loved than any dog could be. I don’t think I could have found more perfect parents.” Hobo nodded off. He awoke as if he had not missed a beat.  “Then I began my business, partnering with my cats and squirrels, and invested in the bone market. I met so many friends on social media, like you,” he said taking LIly’s paw and kissing it.  “I truly am rich.”


Lily patted Hobo’s head and told him to rest but, while his body was failing, Hobo’s mind was still sharp.  He began to get out of bed. ‘I have to check on my brother Wylie. I don’t know if he is ready to take over the business.”


Lily put a paw on his leg to stop him.  “Wylie is fine,” she assured him. Hobo laid back in bed knowing his wife was right, and too tired to get up  “You have trained him well,” Lily assured him. “All your affairs are in order,” she said as her voice broke.


“Now, now Lily, none of that,” he said.  “I have plenty of time left, I assure you.”  Lily knew he was exaggerating, but went along with his falsehood.  Hobo ran a paw along her face. “Lily, of all the things I have done in my life my greatest achievement was marrying you.  I don’t know what you saw in an old broken down mutt like me.”

“Everything my dear, everything,” she assured him, and they sat quietly until Hobo fell asleep again.


He opened his eyes to see the sun setting outside his window.   “I suppose it will be good to see my old friends again: Tommy, Hattie Mae, Smoochy and especially Angel Foley.  Have you read her blogs? She is in desperate need of a good editor.”


Lily smiled.  “Do you remember your birthday is approaching?” she asked.


“How could I forget?” he responded.  “Tax day. The government’s special joke just for me.  I should get up to see if Wylie has everything prepared.”


Lily insisted he stay in bed and Hobo obliged  “Another birthday,” he laughed. “How many is this.  17? 18? Maybe I will be allowed to vote,” he laughed.


Lily grinned through her tears.  “Come, wife,” Hobo said pulling back the covers.  “Snuggle with me. I will keep you warm.” Lily happily climbed into bed and snuggled with her husband,



Hobo’s parents appeared in the doorway as twilight filled the room and Hobo and Lily gently fell asleep breathing in unison.

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Pocket Celebraets Opening Garden Day



Finally, on Monday, Opening Garden Day arrived.  Unfortunately so did my chronic colitis which meant I skipped breakfast and gave my parents their weekly worry day. 

 As usual, I ate nothing in the morning, little in the afternoon, then at supper, like your Uncle Phil at a cookout, I took a messy poop then stepped right up,  announced I was starving and wolfed down everything in sight. I know! It takes a lot of patience to be a dog parent.

Even feeling poorly I was excited about Garden Day.  Our stroller was brought out from the shed, and River and I were placed inside it where we could see everything my parents were doing. The temperature was in the mid 40’s and sunny.  My parents dressed in layers then warmed as they worked, removing one garment at a time, like a strange landscaping striptease.

Before my parents began their chores, they stood on the edge of Foley’s garden.  Our stroller was placed next to them. A few members of the high school band played the national anthem.  Our property manager kicked off the season by yelling “Everyone weed!” Then my parents got to work.

Daddy raked the lawn.  This does help make the grass grow, but it is tedious work.  We decided to stay with our Mom. She got the Shop-Vac out and vacuumed the patio.  Maybe your parents don’t vacuum the outside, but Momma finds it easier than sweeping and bagging the debris plus this planet could use a good vacuuming now and then.

We started in Foley’s garden because she would haunt us if we didn’t.  There were already some crocuses poking their heads up to shine in the sun  Mommy was disappointed that the bulbs she planted last year had not bloomed, but if I were a bulb this spring, I would stay underground too.

After Mommy, under our supervision, prepared the garden for spring’s beauty by cleaning all the winter refuse from it we moved to the front one.  We were only able to get half of it cleared when Foley demanded that Mommy stop by sending shooting pains down her spine. Mommy used to think this was a sign of aging but now knows it is her little angel Yorkie demanding she stops.

We sat in the sun together and watched Daddy finish raking the lawn.  Foley didn’t send him any pain. She thinks he can take care of himself.  When we finished, we got a walk around our little neighborhood where we barked at everyone we knew that our lovely gardens would be open soon.


All our readers are welcome to see our gardens when they bloom.  River and I have it all planned out. It is going to be our best garden ever,  As long as we have a couple of day over 50 degrees

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Monday, April 9, 2018

Monday Question

Have you ever worn anything on your paws?

Neither River or I have worn anything on our paws but Foley did once.  She clomped around like a Clydesdale and then tipped them off her paws 

Sunday, April 8, 2018

Rescue is our April 8, 2018 Pup of the Week


A week from Monday will be a special holiday in Massachusetts:  Patriot’s Day which commemorates the first battle of the Revolutionary War.    It is also Marathon Day and the Red Sox play baseball in the morning for no known reason.  I loved Patriot’s Day because my parents didn’t have to work, but the last one I spent in the mortal world was a horrific day.

Two men placed bombs near the marathon finish line killing three people and injuring several more.  For the next three days, until the killers were caught, the fear that the terrorists could strike again, and the sorrow felt for those who lost life and limb, was overbearing.

Jessica Kensky and Patrick Downes, newlyweds, were both severely injured in the attack.  Jessica lost two legs and Patrick one. They faced several operations and a lengthy rehabilitation. They could not work, they did not know how they would live, and as much as their friends and family tried to comfort the couple connecting with them was difficult.

Then they heard the sound of four paws on the floor.  That is when Jessica met her service dog, Rescue. And from that moment things became easier.  Patrick said “I can still go back to that moment and remember the feeling throughout my body as I laughed and saw my wife laugh. I just could not have imagined that sort of day would be possible again after the stretch that we had been through. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the first of many times that Rescue would bring that kind of lightness to our family.”

Rescue brought the couple what they had not had since before the bombing:  Laughter It may not cure everything but laughter certainly helps people get through the hard times.

Now the couple is telling their story in a children’s book called “Rescue & Jessica: A Life-Changing Friendship.” While both the fictional Jessica and the author lost their lower legs, it is never revealed in the book how the injury occurred because the author did not want to make the book about the terrorist attack.

Jessica has gone to classrooms to read the book to the children and honestly answer their questions about her struggle after the bombing.  The best part of her reading is that Rescue is sitting with her while she reads.

The reason she wrote a children’s book was that she noticed when she traveled with Rescue, either wearing prosthetic or not, boys and girls would stare at her.  She wanted the children to know that she was still the person she was before the bombing, but she faces unique challenges, which Rescue helps her overcome.

Jessica, Patrick, and Rescue are currently on a book tour so watch your local listings, and you may be able to greet these three heroes.  


And if you do kiss Rescue for me.

Friday, April 6, 2018

Foley Saves a Street Dog with Smoochy, Leo and Rocky


There are big human cities at Rainbow Bridge.  They are to the west of our newly christened Doggyspace.  Sometimes dogs, who lived their lives on the streets, prefer to go to the city after they cross over the Bridge.  It is a grimy life, but it is what they know. I always wished I could show one homeless dog that life is better at DS.

One day Leo, Smoochy and I were walking through one of the cities when we came upon a meek chihuahua named Cortez.  We told him he should return to Doggyspace with us. “No, I don’t think so,” Cortez said. “I don’t want to live in a house.”  Leo and Smoochy told him about their comfortable lives in homes filled with love, but Cortez said he doubted anyone would love him.  When we pressed him, he ran away. I wanted to go after him, but Leo told me we wouldn’t catch him. Smoochy said he had a better idea.

We went back to DS and talked to Rocky, our brave German Shepard friend.  Smoochy said that Rocky could be a convincing street dog, get close to Cortez and convince him to be adopted by one of the many loving parents who prefer to live at DS.


We took Rocky to the river to get wet him and covered with mud.  Then we walked to the city. Every few miles Rocky would roll around in the dirt until he was filthy.  We left him on the corner where we found Cortez. Leo, Smoochy and I rented a small garden apartment near the corner so Rocky wouldn’t be abandoned if he was in danger. 

 The apartment was dirty, with cockroaches running around (even they go to the Bridge, by the billions). We had to put several blankets on the floor to keep clean. Then we waited for Rocky to do his magic.


It took an hour for Cortez to appear.  He made fast friends with Rocky. They slept together behind a dumpster. They ate whatever food was thrown away. It was quite a change for Rocky who lived a pampered life with a loving family, but he was committed to saving Cortez.  As they sat in the rain Rocky told Cortez about the home he lost, the great food, being warm all the time, sleeping on a bed, and most of all the unconditional love. When Cortez told him that he could never be loved Rocky promised him any mom would take one look at him and adore him.

He convinced Rocky to come to our apartment.  Smoothy, Leo and I toweled both our friends off.  Then we all told stories of our wonderful home and the glory of love.  It took until dawn, but we persuaded him to come back to DS with us

Smoochy ran ahead and talked to one of the DS Moms.  When we got back to DS Leo, Rocky and I lead Cortez to his new home.  He didn’t get a chance to step inside because Sage and Saffron’s Mom Jackie Pool ran out of the house, picked Cortez up as he released a squeal of joy, and ran into her house where Cortez became the newest member of her pack.

A few days later Smoochy, Rocky, Leo and I saw Cortez playing with Sage and Saffron.  He stopped and gave us a thankful smile then went back to chasing Sage and Saffron.

Smoochy, Rocky, Leo and I all lay down in the sun very satisfied with saving a dog.

The job continues, even here at the Bridge.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

River's Snowed Out Garden Days Leads to a Special Second Bed


We have been looking forward to the first Monday in April for months.  That is when garden work begins. Some crocuses have already burst through the soil to greet us.  There are many other pretty flowers bubbling under the soil waiting to say hello. It was time for us to clean all the refuse winter dumped on our happy spots and prepare the yard for unprecedented beauty.

I woke up with a big smile on my face.  Daddy picked Pocket and me up and carried us on to the porch.  I couldn’t wait to see what new flowers had peeked through to see me.  I planned to give them all a welcoming sniff. Daddy opened the door.

Everything was covered with three inches of snow!  How long had I slept? Did I miss the entire summer?  Then I saw my brave crocus friends shivering under the snow, just their buds poking through the white and I knew it was still April, but winter would not let us out of its cold grasp.

I was so angry at this terrible snow that I went outside and peed then pooped right on top of it.  The snow didn’t learn its lesson because it came down harder. Huge flakes, the size of Pocket’s ears, landed on my back.  We slunk back inside and shook off the offending snow then had to endure being roughly toweled off.

There was only one thing dogs who had waited all year for garden day only to have it ruined by Mother Nature could do.  We went back to bed

I love second bed.  First bed is great when we all go to sleep as a pack.  But second bed is heaven. That is when we think we are going to start a long boring day, but instead, we get back in the warm bed.  Pocket, after barking excitedly for a minute making sure that no one could go back to sleep slipped under the covers. As long as Pocket has a hand on her, she is content.  

I am more demanding about second bed.  I sit between my parent’s pillows. My Mom scratches my back while Dad rubs my belly like I am a deity.  They are allowed to talk, and even move, as long as I am scratched and rubbed. Since they are lying down and I am sitting up the scratches and rubs are much more satisfying.  I am sure people who watched us go into the bedroom would say we were sleeping together but believe me there was little sleeping and it was much more satisfying. The best part is that no one needed to clean the sheets.

After I was sated, it was time for breakfast.  The snow had already started to melt. By early afternoon when my tummy was full the snow had melted, and I went to visit my brave crocus friends and promises them this was only a momentary delay, and we would surely be outside next week.


Weather permitting.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Monday Question

Are you a walking dog., a run around the yard dog, or a couch dog?

Pocket and I aren't allowed to run around the yard.  We try to go on walks, for about 20 minutes a day weather permitting..  We do love being couch dogs 

Sunday, April 1, 2018

April 1, 2018 Pups of the Week: Linky, Dylan and the Best Birthday Gift Ever

You have to be patient to be a dog, even at Rainbow Bridge.  We have to wait for our parents, and sometimes we have to wait for the right dog.

Linky came to Rainbow Bridge during the Christmas season of 2015.  He is Lily’s big brother. Lily was the face of her pack. She was the one to bark while Linky stayed in the background.  But in their mom’s heart, they were equal, and it broke when Linky crossed the River of Life.

As soon as he arrived Linky was sure what his mother needed was a new male pup to live with his two sisters Lily and Lalia.  For more than two years Linky interviewed replacements, but he could never find the right one. At times he would become discouraged, and we gave him a pep talk.  He got right back to work. No matter how long it took, he swore he would make sure there was a little boy in his mom’s life.

Let me divert by telling you a quick story.  When Daddy married Mommy, she had two daughters and a son.  Daddy found out in a hurry it takes a special kind of male to move into a house with three females. So Linky didn’t just have to find a boy, he had to find a very special boy, and doing that can take more than two years.

Linky came running down a hill last week loudly barking his head off.  “I found him, I finally found him!” he shouted. He showed us a picture of the cutest little Maltese I have ever seen.  “He is perfect,” Linky said. “He is kind and patient, and I know my Mom will love him, and my sister will at least tolerate him.  Now I have to slip into my mommy’s dreams and tell her about him.

The timing could not have been better.  It was his Mom’s birthday. That was the day the little Dylan came into her life, the new man of the house.  We have all wanted to give the perfect birthday gift to our Mom, but Linky was able to do it. A little, fluffy, white ball of love.

Linky may not have had a loud voice on the mortal side of the Bridge, but he does on the immortal side where his bark was loud enough to find a puppy a wonderful home.


Congratulations to  Dylan, you could not have a better home, and congratulations to Linky for the best across the River birthday gift ever.  

Saturday, March 31, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Hunting the Dream Monster with 12, Brooklyn and Teddy


I had become worried about my Mommy.  There was nothing physically wrong with her, but I had not been able to visit her dreams.  There was something blocking access to them that scared me. I needed some friends to help, so I picked 12 for his size, Brooklyn for her speed, and Teddy Bond for his cunning.

That night we flew into the sun and entered the beam that contained her dreams.  12, being the strongest, led the way, after pledging to knock down whatever barred entry.  Suddenly it was like we had hit a wall, and we were flung back, tumbling out of the beam and back to the Bridge.

“What was it?” I asked 12.

“I am not sure,” he said carefully choosing his words.  “It was much bigger and stronger than me. It pushed us away with just a slap.  I think it was a dream monster.”
That made sense.  A dream monster was causing my Mommy to have nightmares and interfering with her sleep.  We needed to make it go away.

Teddy went to his laboratory and came back with a stink bomb that he promised would make the monster flee.  The next time we flew into her dreams, Teddy went first. We stopped outside the sunbeam, and he tossed the bomb inside.  It was swatted back out unexploded and then went off all over us. We had to spend the rest of the day in the river washing away the stench.  Teddy said he was sorry and I told him how grateful I was that he tried.

The next day Brooklyn proposed to use her agility to get past the monster.  When we arrived she ran right through his legs. We got our first look at the beast.  He was green, with horns, and sharp teeth. His belly was round, his butt thin, and he wore cut off jeans.  He roared as he reached for Brooklyn then blocked her with a thick leg and threw her, and us, out of the dream beam.

We decided to attack the beast as one, using 12’s size, Brooklyn’s speed, Teddy’s cunning, and whatever unidentifiable quality I brought to the endeavor.   We flew in a tight cluster and burst from the beam into Mommy’s dreams. 12 hit the beast in the belly. Teddy blinded him with a special potion. Brooklyn ran around his legs tying them up, and then we knocked him down.

Now it was time for me to use my skill:  Talking.

“What are you doing in my Mommy’s dreams?” I demanded.  “Why are you tormenting her?”

The monster looked at me and then began to cry.  “She seems like a nice lady, and I was lonely,” he said.  “No one wants to play with me because I am big and ugly so I decided to hide in her dreams.  I didn’t mean to scare her.”

I felt bad for the beast.  He was right, even though he was kind, I understood why he scared my Mommy.  I convinced him to fly back to the Bridge with us where he would meet the most understanding souls on either side of the river.

And that is how the dream monster became a dog and a member of Doggyspace.  We named him Frankie, and he is very happy playing with his new doggy friends.  We all love him, despite his looks and fearsome face because loving unconditionally is what we do.


Most importantly, once again, my Mommy is having sweet dreams.

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Pocket and the Birdhouse Mystery

One day, earlier this month, I was in the yard with Daddy.  He was attached to me by a leash that was hooked to my collar, so he didn’t wander away.  We walked over to the big pine tree where the birdhouse was hung. Daddy stopped and looked at the tiny wooden structure.  

Sticking out of the birdhouse was a robin.  It wasn’t moving. Daddy came near it and determined the bird was deceased.  Finding the robin carcass was strange. I have been told it is because when one dies a scavenger carries off the body.  I don’t think so. I think birds are immortal. Unless something untoward happens to them.
Daddy reached in his pocket, took out a poop bag, grabbed the bird, pulled it out of the house and threw the body in the trash, a rather inglorious end to what I am sure was a rich life.

When we got inside, I told River what had happened, and she was equally as curious. We both knew the ugly truth.  The bird did not die of natural causes; he was murdered inside the birdhouse!

I had to crack the case and bring the offending creature to justice.  At first, I suspected another bird but the only way a bird could have committed the murder was to be in the house at the time of the assault, and if it were it would have become trapped when the carcass got stuck in the door.  But the house was empty. I thought that the bird could have been shot from the outside of the house, but birds can’t shoot a gun.
But a squirrel can!

We all know we can’t trust squirrels.  They are vile and vicious creatures. I reconstructed the crime.  There must have been a fight, probably over bird seed since the house was near the feeder.  The bird likely was hoarding food. The squirrel got a weapon, after all, we know they can get their paws on anything, climbed the tree with the gun in its mouth, hung off a branch, and fired the weapon into the opening.  The squirrels only failing was that the shot was not instantly fatal. The bird had enough strength to pull itself out of the house where it died at the entrance.

I wanted to get out and interview the suspects, but the snows came.  I had to wait until it melted. I was preparing to start my interviews when I heard my parents talking. 
 They had arranged to take the tree down because so many pines had fallen during the storms and it was a threat to the house and shed.

Poppycock!  My parents were part of the conspiracy.  They were destroying the scene of the crime!  I don’t know what this bird knew and when he knew it, but I know my parents conspired with the hated squirrels to take him out. 

I don’t know if I will ever get justice for the poor bird with both the squirrels and my parents working against me.  But every time I go outside I have my nose to the ground searching for clues. Someday I will find the bird shooter and bring him to justice, or my name is not Pocket Dog Dog Detective.




The game is afoot!

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Beat This Caption



We are watching the Incredible Dr. Pol and then we will discuss my surrendering the remote.  Any questions?

Monday, March 26, 2018

Monday Quesiton

How did you get your name:

Pocket:  When I came home with my parents as a puppy I was so small I could fit into a pocket and that is how I became Pocket Dog.

River Song:  I have two reasons for my name.  The first is after a character from the BBC series Dr. Who.  The second is from this lyric from the Van Morrison song Crazy Love 





"I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles
And the heaven's open every time she smiles
And when I come to her that's where I belong
Yet I'm running to her like a river's song"

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Rex is our March 25, 2017 Pup of the Week

Humans often say they would give up their lives for we dogs, but often the reverse is true.  We dogs put ourselves in harm’s way for our humans even when that threat comes from a gun. Our pup of the week, Rex, is one of those dogs.

Sixteen-year-old Javier Mercado was home alone with his two-year-old German Shepherd Rex at their Des Moines Iowa home.  When burglars broke into the house, Javier grabbed Rex and hid in the closet. But the Shepherd knew there were dangerous intruders inside the house, and it was his duty to protect the occupant.

Rex escaped from the closet, ran downstairs and tried to attack the burglars, but he was overpowered and savagely beaten.  The Shepherd retreated back upstairs to the closet while the criminals went room by room trashing the house room by room. Finally, they arrived in the room where Rex hid with Javier.

The beaten dog found the strength to attack the intruders again.  Rex was shot four times in the neck, knee, and leg. The police, who had been called by Javier, were descending upon the house.  As the sirens grew closer, the criminals fled. When the officers found Rex, they presumed he had passed.

Rex was taken to the hospital where he was stabilized.  He was in surgery for several hours and then received round the clock care until his condition stabilized.   If the story was not cruel enough while the family was visiting Rex their house was burglarized again. Rex’s parents are planning to move out of the neighborhood.

But the Mercado family also learned that there is kindness to match the evil in the world.  They started a Go Fund Me page to pay for Rex’s medical care. They asked for $10,000 and received $60,000.  They are giving the extra money to other families who are in debt to their veterinarians.

Finally, Rex and his owner walked out of the hospital.  Rex only had a slight limp and a cone to show for his ordeal.  

But there was more going on with the hero.  He began to show signs of suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder something that is seldom recognized in dogs.   He jumped if there are any sudden movements around him, he barked at strangers who come into the house, and he is obsessed with his owner’s feet, always watching and barking at them because he had repeatedly been kicked during his assault.

Rex is now has a behavior consultant monitoring him.  She suggested medication for anxiety and Rex being positively stimulated to help ease the stressful memories.  They hope with that, and time, he will fully recover.

He will certainly get the love.

The idea that dogs need help after traumatic events can only make dogs’ lives better. People who rescue dogs know their pet has suffered in the past and work hard to get them over that trauma.  Thanks to Rex’s heroism, and the publicity he has received the idea that dogs need emotional support just as much as humans do. Recognizing that may help dogs throughout the world.


That makes Rex a hero on many levels.

Friday, March 23, 2018

Ask Aunt Foley


Dear Aunt Foley:  What is going on with all this snow?  We can’t take anymore. Please make it stop.  - Geordie.

Dear Geordie:  I am sad to admit that the recent March storms may be partially my fault.  My good friends Max and Baron have not experienced snow during two winters with their parents.  I have desperately tried to change this by seeding clouds with water and cold then spinning them towards Max and Baron’s Maryland home.  The result has been no snow for them and 1100 feet of snow for everyone else Thankfully, on Wednesday they got their snow, and I can stop seeding clouds.  Mission accomplished.

Dear Aunt Foley:  Is there any purpose to St Patrick’s Day except our parents making us dress up?  Ruby the Airedale.  

Dear Ruby:  St Patrick’s Day is a phony holiday because our parents still have to work and there is no big meal where people drop food on the ground that we get to eat.  But our parents do like to dress us up, like on Halloween, or St Valentine’s Day, two other holidays where our parents do not get a day off. At least we likely get to treats on those days.  On St Patrick’s Day, we get bupkis except for role reversal. Our parents throw up and pee on the floor, and we have to clean it. Out of all the phony holidays St. Patrick’s Day is on the bottom of my list. (Then again, my breed does hail from Yorkshire which may make me a wee bit bias.)

Dear Aunt Foley:  A landscaper was supposed to come to our house and do work.  He has said he would be here several times and has not appeared.  Why are humans so unreliable? Sabrina.

Dear Sabrina:  Your Mommy needs to ask anyone she hires to do work at her house one important question.  Do you own a dog? If the answer is no, then don’t hire them because people who own dogs are much more reliable than people who do not.  Dog owners have to feed us and take us out on a regular schedule, so they are much better with time and obligations. Also having a dog makes a person more likable.  Your Mom needs to put a sign on the door that says Non-dog owners need not apply.

Dear Aunt Foley:  We found a gopher turtle in our yard.  Is it dangerous? Tashi, Tiara, and Trixie.

Dear Tashi, Tiara, and Trixie:  Normally I would say the turtle is harmless.  But recently stupid humans have started to feed puppies to turtles.  You don’t have to worry about the turtle, but stupid humans are a greater threat.  There is no reason to be afraid of flying on a plane, especially if you are like me and have your own wings, but there is a reason to be afraid humans are either going to kill you or send you to North Korea by accident.  I think non-pet owners should have to wear a tattoo on their foreheads with a dog with an X through it, so we know they are a danger and, if we don’t see the tattoo, we will know we are safe.




Thursday, March 22, 2018

River Writes to Her Sister About the Recent Weather


February 28, 2018

Dear Zell:  How are you, dear sister?  I hope you are experiencing good weather.  The temperature here is very comfortable and has been for the past two weeks.  It seems like late spring. I think that winter is gone for good. We have had several long walks in the last two weeks and are looking forward to more.  If you want to experience proper weather, my door is open to you. Love your devoted sister River Song.

March 2, 2018

Dear Zell:  I am writing to tell you that we had the most dreadful storm last evening.  It was like one of your hurricanes. I know how fretful you become during such events.  We even lost our electricity. Of course, I remained unruffled by the high wind and rain although I did have to comfort silly Pocket.  She told me that I would come to resemble her after several more storms. Pish-posh. We Griffons do not get “worked up!” At least it was not snowing. Love your unaffected sister River Song

March 7, 2018

Dear Zell:  Tell our birth mother not to worry, but we had yet another storm, that they fetchingly call a Nor’easter in these parts.  Yankees! They have to put a name on everything. We got a mixture of rain and heavy wet snow which is the most unpleasant substance on Earth.  I refused to put my paws outside the house, peeing and pooping properly on pads. Pocket went outside, saying it was a badge of honor to do your business outside regardless of the weather.  I didn't even acknowledge such foolishness.

March 13, 2018
Dearest Zell:  I have the most atrocious news.  We have been besieged by yet another storm which has brought us snow well over my head.  Father has spent several hours outside trying to keep the driveway clear, but the snow keeps falling.  The temperatures have plummeted. The thoughts of spring I clung to two weeks ago are now but a memory.  I think my Mommy wants me to go out in this weather to do my bathroom duties. Oh Zell, the horror! How I long for those long, lazy Florida days.  I do hope this is the final storm. I don’t believe I could stand another. Love, your weary sister River Song

March 20, 2018

Hey Zell:  Holy crap we got another wicked bad snow storm on the first day of spring. This sucks the big one.  Worse than that I’m afraid I have turned into a tough New England girl. I even peed in the snow today, and when a truck driver came too close to me, I flipped that mofo off.  I believe the innocent southern girl who found her fortune in the north has been turned into a Jersey Shore character by this freaking weather. Tell mother to sell my dresses and the summer house.  I shall return to the south no more. I am a northern girl now. I shall be getting my first tattoo on my belly tomorrow. It is going to say: “Screw snow” but in not as polite terms. Do not expect to hear from me until June when this frickin’ snow should melt.  I’m off to take a piss by the crushed butterfly bush. Love your Yankee sister River Song

Monday, March 19, 2018

Monday Question

What is your favorite type of fruit or vegetable?

Pocket:  I am not a big fan of vegetables but I tolerate carrots.

River Song:  I love watermelon 

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Prince is our March 18, 2018 Pup of the Week

We dog will do anything to stay with our parents for as long as we can.  Four years ago Annie surrendered a leg to spend one extra week with her mom. Prince was slightly luckier.  He got six weeks with his mom after his foreleg was removed. Neither could escape the devastating effects of cancer, but they were happy for the extra time.

What is particularly cruel in both cases is that Annie and Prince’s parents were told, post-surgery, that their babies were cancer-free, only to learn a short time later that the cancer had returned  Cancer is a terrible foe. It can be avoided, and some can escape from it, but it can never be defeated

We dogs, when in pain unless it becomes unbearable, hide it from our parents.  It is our job to keep mom and dad happy and worry free for as long as we can. Prince knew, after his surgery, that he wasn’t cured, but he looked in his mom’ eyes and saw the most wonderful thing.:  Hope. No dog can extinguish hope from their mom’s eyes.

Nor can a dog keep the ravages of disease at bay forever.  Prince’s Mom took him for a follow-up x-ray which showed the cancer had returned in the shoulder where his leg was amputated.  They were not ready to say goodbye, so she took Prince home. Three days later his mom eased him towards his final journey.

As news spread amongst our parents that Prince has passed over clouds full of tears rained upon us angels.  Then the sky cleared as Prince, once again with four legs, ran up the stairs to be met by his former pack members and family.

Once the formalities were done, and he was assigned his wings we brought him to Doggyspace where he could see all his friends.  Everyone remembers their first day at the Bridge and how there is nothing more important than keeping the newest angel busy, so they don’t fret over those they left behind.

Of course, like illness, we can only keep sorrow at bay for so long, and soon Prince began to miss his dear Mommy.  We showed him how to watch over her by looking into the river, how to transform into winged creatures to visit her, slip into her dreams and be a spirit by her side.  We then had a welcoming feast for him, and we all told our favorite stories about the little Frenchie.

And most importantly he was taught how to find ways to ease the terrible burden his passing put on his mom.   He arranged for his breeder to be at the vet’s when his mom went to retrieve his ashes. The breeder was there to see if her Frenchie was expecting, and told Prince’s mom about a cute four-month-old boy she had.  Nothing was asked or promised, but it was an impressive manipulation of time by Prince to have both his mom and the breeder at the vets simultaneously.

And for just a few fleeting moments he saw what had been missing from her eyes since his passing:  Hope.

And that is what a successful angel does.  They bring their loved ones hope.


Friday, March 16, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Foley, Bella, Paco and Reyah Go in Search of the Great Ape


I have an inquisitive mind.  I like to go to the library and get lots of books.  Recently I have been studying evolution. You would think that existing in the afterlife would make a dog dismiss the idea.  But many factors create life, and we need to consider them equally. Which is why I became fascinated with apes.

They say humans are descended from apes.  But where did the need to accompany dogs come from?  Does it go back to the apes? Are we natural friends?  I needed to find out and to do that I had to assemble a team.  I choose Bella because everyone loves her, Reyah, who gets along with horses so should get along with apes, and Paco, in case the apes are Italian.

I borrowed a jeep.  Bella climbed in the front next to me while Paco and Reyah got in the back.  Paco is a trusted aide who I listen to frequently. He tried to tell me this was not a good idea, but I assured him it would be fine.   I drove a long way into the Bridge jungle. We saw cheetahs, monkeys, and many curious birds. Then we came upon a troop of gorillas

I asked Paco to get out and talk to the gorillas.  “That’s not a good idea,” he said.

“Paco, you’re always so willing to help me.  Just go up and talk to the gorillas.”

“I no think so boss,” Paco said.  “Paco is not getting eaten by a gorilla.  I will stay and watch.”

Reyah told me that she would help if they were horses but she doesn’t do gorillas, and Bella pretended to be asleep.  If you want a gorilla approached you have to do it yourself. I got out and walked up to the biggest one in the troop.  “My name is Judge Foley Monster,” I announced, “and I want to question you.” The gorilla reached down and swatted me a half mile into the jungle.

I made my way back to the big brute.  “Hey,” I said. “That was rude.” He went to swat me again, but I scampered out of the way.  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

“We have not needed dogs since we evolved from humans,” the gorilla said.
I was confused.  “I thought that man evolved from gorillas,” I said.

He laughed.  “Humans need jobs money, cars, and houses.   We get to hang out in the jungle, swing from tree to tree, eat bananas all day, and no one messes with us because we are kings.  Which species sounds more evolved?”

That made sense.  “Why do you think you no longer need dogs?”

“We have entered a higher state of being than humans,” he said.  “We don’t need the companionship.”

I told him to wait for a second and went back to the jeep.  It took a lot of convincing to get a suspicious Paco, a sleepy Bella, and a cautious Reyah out of the vehicle.  I told them we were going to get the gorillas back to their dog-loving selves. “I just don’t want them so dog loving they eat us,” Bella said.  I assured her I was sure they wouldn’t.

“Oh crikey there is more of them,” the big gorilla said.

We stopped in front of a dozen angry gorillas. “What are we going to do?”  Reyah asked.

“Treat them like we would treat our parents.”

“You want us to beg them for treats?” Paco asked.  “I don’t like bananas.”

“No,” I said.  “We play.” Then we did.  We chased our tails. We nipped at one another.

 We rolled on our backs and wiggled. We zoomed around the jungle.  We grabbed branches and ran with them then got stuck between two trees.   We nuzzled one another, and then we stopped and snuggled. I looked up at the lead gorilla hoping we had impressed them, but he just looked down scowling at us.

“Oh my gosh, look at them they are so cute!” the big gorilla said.  Then they all came for us. They picked us up and gave us big kisses.

“Foley, gorilla breath, gorilla breath!’ Paco yelled.

A big ape snuggled with Reyah on the ground.  Another chased Bella who was running in fear.  Paco enjoyed getting his belly rubbed by an ape finger.  The big gorilla giggled as he licked my face. It took a while, but soon we were having as much fun as the apes.
 We played with them all afternoon. Once we got past the smell, the gorillas were very nice.

Then came a new problem.  They connected with their human past so much they didn’t want us to leave.  I gave them directions to our part of the Bridge, and the head gorilla said they would be visiting soon.

On our way home Paco asked me how I was going to tell all our friends that the gorillas were coming.


I told him that was a story for another day. 

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Pocket Dog Storm Pooper

 I used to get upset about bad storms, but since we have them once a week, I am getting used to bad weather.  On Tuesday we had another bomb cyclone which was neither a bomb or a cyclone, just snow six times higher than me.

Three facts cannot be disputed:  If you live in the Northeast you are going to get snow in the winter if you sleep with a porn star you have to remember to sign the non-disclosure agreement, and I need to poop before bedtime.  On Sunday night the time change played havoc with my schedule.

I did not take my late night poop on Sunday.  Daddy kept me walking for a half hour. I peed quite a bit but didn’t poop.   My parents were ready for an upset tummy Monday morning, but I ate and pooped regularly opening another chapter of the bestselling book “The Mystery of Pocket’s Bowels.”

Tuesday morning the storm howled over our house.  We are lucky to have a porch and pee pads. Both River and I did our business there, neither of us wanting to place a paw outside.  Then we watched as Daddy tried to clear the driveway of a foot of snow using his little battery operated Snow Joe.

This is the same model that broke down in December, and the customer service people said didn’t work in the cold.  They sent a new one, and it has performed adequately during the last two smaller storms but was not made for blizzards. It is like one of those plastic lawn mowers with AA battery powered sound that little kids use to follow their papas around when they cut the grass.

We watched Daddy push the blower forward a bit and saw it become overwhelmed.  Daddy tried breaking the snow into smaller chunks and push his Joe over them to break the snow up, but this took longer than shoveling.  Then he met the three foot by three-foot wall the plows left at the end of the driveway. I think the angels added some power to his little Joe because somehow he got through it and cleared the driveway.

Then he came inside and leashed me.  I proudly walked to the end of the driveway then up the street.  The neighbors came out to bear witness. There was a fresh dusting of snow on the road.  I stopped, spun, wiggled my butt, then unleashed a perfectly formed poop. The neighbors cheered like the cast of the Titanic when Jack and Rose were reunited.  I tipped my tail and walked back home.

Someday my neighbors will tell their grandchildren that they watched Pocket the Storm Pooper perform in the middle of a blizzard.  

The story will be recanted through generations making me and my poop immortal.

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Monday, March 12, 2018

Monday Question

How long does it to take for you to desqueak a bargain-priced squeaky toy?

Pocket:  I have sadly never desqueaked a toy.


River:  A half hour to 45 minutes 

Sunday, March 11, 2018

March 11, 2018 Pup of the Week: A Brazillian dog, Helena and the Price of Loyalty

We dogs prefer to be referred to as loyal.  While there are many adjectives that define us that term illustrates our purpose on Earth.  But is there such a thing as being too loyal? Our two Pups of the Week and a third who isn't helping us seek an answer.

The first pup has no name.  He belonged to a homeless man in Sao Paulo Brazil.  The man got into a violent fight and was stabbed. While the worried dog stood over his dad, emergency technicians put the man on a stretcher and transported him to the hospital.  The worried dog ran after his dad.

The dad was brought into the hospital.  The dog stopped at the emergency entrance and laid down.  He was a good dog and knew he should not go inside. So he waited.  He has been there for four months. The homeless man died but the dog, like all loyal pups, is waiting for his dad to be done with his long appointment so they can be on their way.

Hospital workers are taking care of him.  He has food, water, and a blanket to lie on.  The local shelter did pick him up and had planned to put him up for adoption, but the dog climbed a fence, escaped and ran back to the hospital.  Now, except for an occasional stroll down the street, the dog is happy to wait for either for his dad to appear or to wait until they are reunited at the Bridge
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Our second pup is Helena.  She was at a shelter run by the Lifeline Animal Project in Macon County Georgia.  She was found on the street, a malnourished stray. The workers at the shelter labeled her a velcro dog and when she was adopted her new owner was told this dog would give him plenty of attention.

They were right.  Helena hung on her new owner wherever he went.  She snuggled, she kissed, she walked with him, she did everything he did like the most loyal dog in the world.  Unfortunately, she was adopted by the biggest jerk in Georgie. He returned her to the shelter because she was too friendly.  The human wanted a less clingy more protective dog, unable to understand that there is no more protective dog than a loyal one.

The people at the Lifeline Animal Project were savvy.  They knew if they put Helena’s story online, labeling her the dog that too nice to adopt, kind-hearted people would be willing to open their doors for this baby.  They were right. Within days a family who appreciates a loving, loyal dog provided Helena with the forever home she deserved.

Like the unnamed dog, parents can be so loyal it becomes a detriment.  When a human loves a dog with their whole heart, they don’t want to be with another pup.  Since we cannot live forever, humans seek another way to stay with us, namely cloning. But that dog, even if it has our cells, is not the dog they lost.  And the number of other pups who have to suffer, from those who give eggs, to those who give birth, is too high a price to pay. If you want to honor us after we go to the Bridge provide a new dog the same loving home you gave us.  That would make us proud.

The loyalty the dog in Sao Paulo gave to his deceased dad is beautiful and selfless, as is the loyalty Helena gave to the man who did not return it.  But the loyalty of a human to a dog who decides to clone them is selfish. We only have one life to live, don’t steal our cells to try to force a part of us to live longer.




Loyalty is beautiful but learns from the dogs.  Selfless loyalty is the only kind that counts.

Friday, March 9, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Raiding The Kitty Kibble with Leo, Sandy and Abbie


At Rainbow Bridge, we have a never-ending supply of kibble.  Each morning we remove our share The pile goes down during the day, but by dawn, it is miraculously refilled.   Yesterday Leo told me that he had measured the kibble and sometime during the night it was disappearing.  We sat at my table stumped about who would steal our stash at night. It struck us both simultaneously like a lightning bolt:  Cats

They are always prowling around at night while right-thinking animals are tucked in their beds.  They act like we are friends, but we know they can’t be trusted. If we allowed them to take our kibble what would be next? Our goodies?  Our treats? I put together a canine crack crew to infiltrate the cat village and take back what was ours.

I had Leo, the intelligence; Abbie, a recent arrival at the Bridge, who knew the latest kitty tricks, was the infiltrator; Sandy our daredevil friend, the thief, although he would never steal anything belonging to another.  He would merely take back what was ours. And me? I was the tiny Yorkie driver.

We made our assault at noontime when the night loving kitties were most vulnerable.  I got behind the wheel of my red 2006 Subaru WRX. I pressed my paw on the gas, and we took off.  All was quiet at the kitty village upon our arrival. We each had a bucket.

We quietly went over to their kibble pile and filled our containers to the brim.  I popped the trunk, and we poured our bootie inside. Then we heard a loud pop.

I looked at Leo.  He was covered in dust.  I licked it then grimaced.  Kitty litter! I turned and saw cats standing on the wall.  They had kitty litter cannons pointed at us. 

“Get in the car,” I ordered.  We scrambled into the Subaru. I started it and hit the gas just as a 1968 Ford Mustang GTE filled with angry feral cats sped towards us from behind the wall.  

“They’re gaining on us!” Sandy yelled.  I looked in the mirror. One of the cats was leaning out the window with a gun.  His eyes were slits, obviously under the influence of nip. As he pulled the trigger, I swung the wheel to the right.  The litter blew past us. 

“Tree!” Leo yelled. It was right in front of us. I pumped the brake putting the car into a skid then spun the wheel hard to the right.  The tires caught and spun us past the tree. The kitties were still in pursuit, but now we were facing them. I floored it heading right for them. Abbie yelled at me to swerve, but a Yorkie never blinks.  Just before we hit head on the kitty swerved, and we passed them.

I pressed down on the accelerator trying to outdistance the cats, but they had turned around and were gaining on us again. I spun the wheel to the left and held on tight. 

“Foley, we are headed for the cliff!”  Leo yelled. I looked at him, smiled, and went faster. The cats were now right behind us. We flew off the edge. I didn’t brake, but the cats did.  I looked in the rearview mirror as their car skidded off the edge plunging towards the river. The Subaru barely reached the other side, which, because this was Rainbow Bridge, was right where we started.

We stopped and looked down.  The cats were in the river, wet but safe.  They shook their paws at us. We laughed, got in the Subaru, drove to my cottage and unloaded the car.  We sat down for a kibble feast. We chewed, but something was wrong. “It tastes like tuna,” Leo said. We spit it out.


“Is this kitty kibble?”Abbie asked. 

Then we saw three fat squirrels, with dog kibble on their breath, laughing at us.  “I think we made a terrible mistake,” Leo said.

We had to bring the kitty kibble back, apologize several times, and give them the Subaru to replace the car they crashed.  They told us it was all right, but they had a certain edge to their voice, and I was certain it was far from alright.

But I am sure they will forgive us.  They have to we need them for our war against the squirrels.

Thursday, March 8, 2018

River and the Blustery Day

I do not get worked up by the weather, unlike my sister.  I hate the snow and the cold, but it doesn’t give me the trembles.  I just dig my paws in and refuse to go outside. So, while everyone got worked up about the latest bomb cyclone that brought five inches of rain and hurricane force winds, I remained my usual unflappable self.

In the morning, per usual, Pocket went out first.  She came back inside soaking wet with all her hair windblown to one side of her body.  Daddy picked me up and brought me out on the porch. He leashed me and carried me into the crazy sideways rain and howling wind.  I quickly peed. There was no attempt to make me poop. If Pocket poops inside, she hides it behind the furniture, but I always leave it right in the center of the pad for a quick and easy pickup.

Daddy went to work, and we stayed inside protecting Mommy.  We barely barked. There was nothing that caught our attention except when the empty trash barrel tried to escape by rolling down the driveway.  When Daddy got home, he walked into the 50 mph wind to get the barrel back to its spot behind the stone wall. He put a rock on it to keep the wayward barrel in place. A gust of wind got under the lid and threw the rock back at Daddy.  After Mother Nature’s assault, he retreated inside.

We stayed there.  When it was time for Pocket to pee, she went on her porch pad.  I refrained from peeing all day. The lights went out for a short time when Daddy got home, then, for a few seconds, while Mommy was making supper, which made her exclaim the two worse Non-Lutheran words causing the power to come back on, and finally, despite Mommy’s repeating those bad words, the lights went out again for several hours at 8:30.

We sat in the house, lit by a single candle, as the wind shook our abode, sounding like a thousand weeping angels moaning a sad song.  The fan over the stove banged relentlessly. The rain continued to lash the side of the house like a harsh hose set on high. Pocket switched from one nervous lap to the next.  I laid next to Mommy as content as could be.

I had one worry, that my parents could not see the clock, and would not know when it was time to give me my 10:00 treat bone.  I needn’t have worried. My treat bone is always punctual. But before I got it Pocket, Daddy and I ventured into the storm because I still had not peed and the resulting River’s river, once unleashed, would have flooded the house worse than the rain. Daddy carried us to the stone walkway where we both quickly did our business anxious to get inside
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I attacked my bone, relying on my sense of taste and smell because my sight was diminished.  Pocket got a small plate of food. Mommy grumbled that she did not get her evening cup of tea.  When I finished my bone, with the temperature inside the house plummeting, we retreated to my favorite place, the bed.

My parents were still awake, reading by the flashlight on their phones when the power returned.  Pocket stayed pressed against my parents finding comfort in their body heat. I barely moved from my spot at the end of the bed.

Mommy soon went to sleep.  Daddy stayed up a bit longer  I made my way to him and pawed his hand signaling for him to rub my belly.  He did, and after several minutes stopped. I pawed him to keep him going, and had to do so several times.  He asked me why I wanted the constant attention. Had anything that happened tonight upset me?




I scoffed at him.  “Of course not,” I said with my eyes.  But I kept pawing him, and he kept rubbing.  Something about the act, on this night, was particularly soothing.