Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Monday, February 26, 2018

Monday Question

I know we see pictures of one another but sometimes pictures can be deceiving.  By your best guess how tall are you and how much do you weigh?

Pocket:  I guess I am about six inches tall and weigh six pounds.


River Song:  I am eight inches tall and weigh 14 pounds. 

Sunday, February 25, 2018

Sarge is our February 25, 2018 Pup of the Week


There are various ways that souls pass over the Bridge.   Some arrive as the result of a tragic accident, some linger and suffer for years, some succumb to a sudden illness, some live far beyond their life expectancy, some nowhere near it, and some just slip away in the middle of the night.

My Blogger friend Sarge passed in his sleep this week without a sign that he was sick.  I have heard it said that this is the way to go.  No pain, no suffering, just drift off to sleep and wake up on the immortal side of the River.  But such a passing leaves questions on both sides.

Sarge’s poor parents have no idea what happened to their beloved boy.  He had some problems but none that seemed life-threatening.  His parents were left to wonder why this happened and if they missed anything.  But they didn’t  One of the lessons the heavenly Group Of Dogs teaches us is that we only have so many heartbeats and sometimes we run out.   That is what happened with Sarge.

It is traumatic for those dogs who pass over.  They went to bed happy and content at their parents’ house then woke up surrounded by angels at Rainbow Bridge.  Sarge went to sleep in his bed, and upon awakening, he saw his immortal friends standing over him.  He was embarrassed, wondering how all these angels got in his room, and then realized he was on a cliff looking over the River of Life. 

I have seen many dogs pass over quickly and the result is always the same.  The pup tries to get back home, unable to accept their time on the mortal side had come to an end.  Sarge ran down the knoll and jumped into the river then swam to the other side only to find we angels waiting.  “No matter how far you swim you come back to the same spot,” I told him.

Sarge tried to get home four more times before we convinced him that he could not swim back.  He tried to run over the Bridge, but when he reached the other end, he was right back where he started.  He sat down distraught.  It took several angels to explain to him that there was a way for him to go back to his parents, but they wouldn’t know he was there.  Sarge took lessons and easily passed the test in record time.  

Sarge got to do something that few angels can do.  Because he passed over in his sleep, he was able to be there as an angel when his parents found him.  I don’t know if they could sense that Sarge’s paws were on their shoulders, his muzzle pressed up against them, as they grieved, but he was, and I do believe he lessened their incredible pain.

Sarge’s parents are still hurting because the wound left from his passing is still fresh. 

 We are sure it is going to take a long time for them to adjust to the new Sarge-less normal.  Their funny, quirky, loving boy is greatly missed, and his blogger friends will no longer read of his mischievous adventures.


The angels have helped Sarge adjust to him suddenly becoming an angel.  It is the hardest transition for people and dogs.  We angels will help Sarge.  We are going to need some humans to help his parents until they are all together again.

Friday, February 23, 2018

Tails From Rainbow: Doggyspace Eternal

I have told the story before, but it bears repeating because it was the beginning.  There was once a site called Doggyspace.  My Dad discovered it when reading a story about a “Facebook” for dogs.  I was seven years old.  Pocket was a puppy.  Dad created an account for us.  We immediately had 100 friends, many of them for life.  

Everyone remembers that site as an idyllic place where all dogs got along and never was heard a discouraging word.  We do tend to look back and remember only the good times, which is proper, because we survived the bad times, and there is no need to relive them.

11 years later we count the people and dogs we met on that site as our closest friends.  We have shared their sorrow when a pup or person passes to the Bridge, and we rejoiced when a new member joined a friend’s pack.  We became a family that crossed oceans, and even the River of Life.  

The only flaw dogs have is limited lifespans.  11 years is at least ⅔ of the average dog’s mortal time.  Many of the pups I met on Doggyspace are with me at the Bridge now.  When Shiloh arrived, she gave me an idea.  I stayed up all night drawing plans and then presented them to the Great Ordered Dogs board who approved them.

I gathered thousands of minions (those humans who were cruel to dogs during their lifetime and are bound to serve us after they crossed the Bridge) gave them my plans and told them I expected full implementation by morning.  When the sun rose, I gathered my angel friends for a huge breakfast, and then I lead them to where the minions were finishing their work.

We climbed a hill and looked down on a valley where our new home at the Bridge stood shining.  There was a big gate, which is always open, and over it was written “DOGGYSPACE.”  When we were young, full of life and playing with one another on that site, we often commented how special it would be if we could all live in the same neighborhood, and now we can.

The site is open to all dogs who have shared their lives on a social network, even if they never joined DS.  It is a place of great friendship, for hours of romping, for laughter for comfort, just like the original Doggyspace.  We hope it gives our parents joy that, while we aren’t with them, we are all together, just as they so often imagined us.

If you are a parent reading this and have lost a dog, know they are still living in the wonderful part of Rainbow Bridge known as Doggyspace.  While that site no longer exists on the mortal side, it is now eternal, just as the love is for all we met there.


Doggyspace is forever.  Someday we will all be there together again, forever.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Recliners Have River Befuddled

I am a dog who enjoys the simple life.  I want my breakfast, with a watermelon appetizer, some food while my parents enjoy dinner, preferably chicken, followed shortly by my supper, then a treat bone at night, and some kibble before bedtime.  I don’t mind a walk, neither do I demand one.  Most of all I want the human touch.

And that is what causes me problems.  My parents have two recliners that are separated by an end table.  Jumping on these chairs can prove a challenge.  I have creaky, uncooperative knees, but since I am on supplements, I have more confidence when I take flight.

I am a trained dog who graduated at the top of my class.  I know I am supposed to be invited to go on the furniture.  My parents tell me to come sit with them, but sometimes I am not sure if they mean it.  “Come on River, come up,” my parents plead.  Are they just being polite?  This question ties me in knots.

I begin to spin on the floor and hunch my back.  One of my parents will get out of their chair and reach for me.  While I love contact, I want to be the one who initiates it.  I lean away from them and keep turning trying to screw myself into the floor before I am gently lifted up.

Switching chairs is also an issue.  I love sitting with both of my humans, but over time I consume all their warmth and need to move to a hotter body.  For some reason my Dad’s chair swivels.  This is good because it can be maneuvered so the footrests are next to one another and I only have to take a step to go from one chair to the other.

But I don’t know when the chair is going to move.  My Dad says he controls it, but I am not sure.  I don’t want to be midstep and have the chair move, and I fall on my face.   It is a very tricky chair.   Sometimes I gently put a paw on it like I am testing water temperature before I jump.  My parents keep telling me it is safe to go but I am worried the chair is going to spin out of control.  It is a lot of work to get on a lap in my house.

If it were up to me, we would move the bed into the living room, and my parents could stay in it all day.  It never moves, and my parents sit together so I can easily go from one to the other.  That wouldn’t relieve my reluctance to jump on the bed uninvited, but I am sure with a few modifications, a water dish and food bowl holder screwed into the end of the bed, I would never get down.

Why sit in a chair when there is bed?  Humans are a never-ending mystery to me.   

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Beat This Caption

Wow.  I had a dream that I was a cat and chased myself up a tree.  That is the last time I have tacos before bed. 

Monday, February 19, 2018

Monday Question

If you entered the Winter Olympics what would be your sport?  It doesn't have to be a real sport.  Just something you are good at.

Pocket; The Poop in the Snow Dump:  I would win gold.


River:  The walk an icy driveway without stepping in ice challenge

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Shiloh is our February 18 2018 Pup of the Week

When you are a dog who has been writing a blog for almost nine years and was on social media a year before that, you shouldn’t be surprised when a friend who you met the first day you dipped your paw into the online world, appears at Rainbow Bridge, given the lifespan of dogs.  But I was still stunned when my friend Shiloh appeared this week.

What surprised me was the way Shiloh appeared.  Most dogs cross Rainbow Bridge then climb the stairs that lead up to the cliff where all angels are welcomed.  But Shiloh came down from the heavens, already with wings, because her name is Shiloh the Star Gazer, and before she retired to a more sedate life she thrilled us all with our horoscopes.  Being so in tune with the stars and the Gods earned Shiloh the right to travel past the stars and down upon us.

After Shiloh descended, the rains of mortal anguish fell from the sky as all the tears her friends and family shed when they learned of her passing came down on us.  Once they passed Shiloh, and I gently hugged and then she informed me of what lead to her passing.

Like many dogs, when they get older, Shiloh’s spine began to fail her.  Her brain was sending signals to her paws to move, but the spine was not transmitting the signal.  Moving and everyday life became very difficult for her.  Instead of watching Shiloh slowly deteriorate her parents elected to make the biggest sacrifice of all and send the dog they loved like a child to the Bridge where she could run like a pup again.

If her parents could have seen Shiloh, they would have known their wishes had come true.  As soon Shiloh’s feet touched the dewy grass she began to run in circles feeling all her muscles working as one again.  Then she took off into the sky and gave a yip of pure joy as she barked out “I’m flying, I’m flying.”

Like all dogs, Shiloh crashed, but not like you think.  She landed gently on the ground but then she remembered she would not be seeing her parents that night and she began to cry.  We all ran to Shiloh, comforted her and then we sent her to ghost school so she could learn to visit her parents, dream school so she could slip into their subconscious while they slept, and transformation school so she could become winged creatures, watch over her parents and hopefully her spirit would be recognized.  She picked up all three with little effort and has already been back to see her parents several times. 

 Shiloh is sorry her parents haven’t realized she is there but she is going to keep trying.
When she isn’t visiting her parents, Shiloh is hanging out with her old Doggy Space friends at the Bridge.  We are sharing stories and wonderful memories.

One year we had a secret gift exchange.  It was my pleasure to send presents to Shiloh.  I don’t recall what I sent, but I do remember it was great fun.  After the exchange was over Shiloh’s Dad made my parents a lovely key box with Shiloh’s smiling face on it.  The box is still in our kitchen and always will be.  Everyday my parents’ lives are made better by seeing Shiloh’s smiling face.




And I get to see her smiling face too, and someday her parents will again, and so will everyone reading this.  It will truly be a beautiful reward.  

Friday, February 16, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: When Foley was her Mommy;s Nurse

I spent Wednesday as a ghost by Mommy’s side as she had her cataract surgery. I was able to comfort with her during the operation  I think she knew I was there.  That bit of warmth she felt on her lap when she got nervous was either me or a spot of pee.  


Mommy went home the same day, and I had to leave her post-op care to Daddy and my two sisters  This was the first time in almost 20 years that she had a surgery and I was not there to take care of her.  This concerned me more than her surgery.


I thought about the first time I took care of Mommy.  It was January 2002.   She had got her first knee replacement surgery.  I was a young pup but also the senior dog in the pack.  My big sister Blake had gone to the Bridge the previous October, and I was trying to teach Jax, an overeager male Papillon puppy how to be a good dog.  It was a lot of work.


Mommy left on a Monday morning.  Jax and I went six days without seeing her.  He was panicked that she was not coming home, but I could smell her when Daddy came home at night, so I knew he had seen her.  In bed, I slept on the nightshirt she had worn before going to the hospital.  It gave me comfort.  I hoped she had something of mine to comfort her too.


She came home on a Saturday.  I danced with excitement when I saw her outside.  It took several minutes for Daddy to help her and the big metal walker she had to use to get in the house.  Daddy guided her over to her recliner.  I jumped on her lap, and that is where I would stay until she was recovered.


For the first two weeks, Mommy slept there, with me on her lap.  Daddy put a mattress on the floor and slept on it with Jax’s crate next to him.  We ate there too.  The only time Mommy got up was when she had to pee, and I trailed right behind her.


Soon a stream of people came to visit her.  There were physical therapists, nurses, and phlebotomists.  During their appointments, I either sat on Mommy’s shoulder or her chest and supervised everything they did.  Of course, I got a lot of attention too, but for the first time in my life, I was not interested in being patted, scratched or getting treats.  I wanted these people to make Mommy better so by springtime we could walk.

I didn’t like the pain the physical therapists caused Mommy but I knew they were making her better and when she didn’t think she could go on I would look up at her with my deep brown eyes and give her the strength to continue.  Soon we were going on walks again.


The next year my Mommy had her other knee done.  The pain was still high, and the recovery difficult, but by then I was well trained in how to make her better.   All the medical people remembered me and the best ones wanted to come see me because they wanted to bask in my infectious personality.


Those were the only serious operations with long recoveries that Mommy and I battled through but she also got sick several times, and Nurse Foley was on duty.


I know there is not a lot of recovery time with this surgery but I still wish I was there.





A nurse like me only comes along once in a lifetime.

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Pocket is Worried After Her Mom's Cat Attack Surgery


A terrible occurrence has wreaked havoc on our family.  Cats attacked my Mommy’s eyes, and she needed surgery to fix them.   I don’t know when this attack happened.  I know it was not here.  River Song and I keep a close watch over our parents.  It must have happened when she left the house.  This is why we get upset when she leaves.  River stands on her back paws, wraps her front paws around Mommy’s legs, and holds on whenever she goes near the door. River slows her down but has yet been able to stop her.

We never noticed anything wrong with her eyes, there was no sign of an attack, and she did not have the dreaded kitty smell, but somehow it happened.  River and I need one of those apps that show us if our parents are behaving or in danger when they leave the house.  It has to be programmed to allow us to bark at them if danger, such as a cat eye attacker come near them.

Wednesday morning we got up with the sun, did our business, but did not get breakfast.   I was placed in my crate while River, once Mommy escaped her grasp, paced the kitchen floor on an empty stomach until my parents returned a long two hours later.

Mommy came home wearing a patch over her eye.  Whoever attempted to fix the damage caused by the cat attack turned her into a pirate.  Daddy helped her in the chair.  Then we learned, as Daddy began to make breakfast, our family was facing another terrible calamity.  Daddy would be in charge of the house!  Only Mommy knew how to make our food right, how to take care of us, how to keep our house shipshape.  Now`our Mommy was a pirate, and the fool whose only job was to keep us amused and pick up our poop was in charge of the house.

Somehow he got their breakfast made, and then, after 1,000 hours, our food was presented to us.   He told us we had to be gentle with Mommy for the first couple of days.  After eating River jumped up and shoved her sniffer right in Mommy’s eye patch.  Sometimes her need to smell supersedes her common sense.

I was going to have to become Mommy’s top nurse, and I had big paws to fill.  Foley had seen Mommy through two knee replacement surgeries and breast cancer.  Foley visited me in my dreams and told me I had to make sure my butt was always touching Mommy, so she knew I was there.  I have been trying, but I will never be the nurse Foley was.  And River has assumed the role of her protector barking at every sight or sound anywhere near the house no matter how many times Mommy begs her to stop.  
So far we are managing.  Daddy is working hard to make sure we are fed, and the house is kept clean according to Mommy’s strict standards.  Sometimes, after Mommy makes him wash the same spot ten times until he gets it right, I hear him softly weeping in fear, but I can’t be bothered.  I am Mommy’s chief nurse and have big responsibilities.

The good news is the surgery happened on a Wednesday, and it is already, wait, its Thursday?  Has it only been a day?  We’re never going to make it.


Send lifeboats.  If Mommy doesn’t stop being a pirate soon we are going to sink.  

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Weekly Question

Have you ever dreamed of winning the Westminster Dog Show?
Pocket:  No, I would never want to be in a dog show.  Too much noise and too many dogs.
River:  Oh, yes, I would love to get up and strut myself in front of the people.  I think I am perfection and everyone should see me.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Meow Meow and Kit are our February 11, 2018 Kitties of the Week




As many of you know, I was a lawyer when I lived on the mortal side of the River of Life.  I had no plans to ever move to Rainbow Bridge but the Big Guy offered me a position as District Four Judge at the Bridge.  I could not turn it down.  I passed over in June of 2013 and have been greeting, and swearing in, pup angels since that date.  It has been hard work, and often heartbreaking, but it does provide me with a chance to let grieving parents know that their lost pups are safe, young, and happy once again.  I also remind their parents that someday they will be reunited and until then they should look for signs their angels are visiting’; like dreams or pretty flying creatures.

What is less known is that I have a kitty counterpart, Juge Cotton.  Dogs and cats are natural adversaries unless they live under the same roof, where they often become best friends.  Dogs and cats interact behind closed dogs, so others of their species do not judge them.  Occasionally, a dog and cat will let everyone know they are friends by leaving the small room in the bedroom where the clothes hang, or, as we call it, coming out of the closet.

I am proud to call Cotton, my friend.  When you are at the Bridge the relationships that some on the mortal side deem to be unnatural no longer matter.  Cotton invites me to the kitty parties.   She also lets me know when a kitty friend of mine is becoming an angel.

On Saturday she texted that my two of my friends  Meow Meow, the beloved little kitty of our friend Tracy Peters, and Kit, sister of our blogger friend Brian, were making their journey to Rainbow Bridge.  I hurried over to where the kitties meet and greet.  They all waited solemnly for their newest member.

Meanwhile, on the mortal side, Aunt Tracy, and Brian’s parents had to make the hardest decision.  Kit had been slowing down.  She always sat on her Dad’s lap and he could tell that Kit was in pain.  He couldn’t let his good friend suffer any longer.

Meow Meow began to show signs that she was ready to transition to the immortal world late last week.  She became disinterested in the mortal world, lying lethargically about the house.  She no longer found the food appealing.  Her body began to betray her and she reacted by throwing up yellow bile.  Her mom used every trick she has learned in the past 15 years, giving her mint mixed with water, serving baby food, but nothing was working.  Meow Meow, who had lost a leg earlier in her life, and had her tail partially amputated, told her Mom it was time to go.

Both Meow Meow’s parents and Kits’ parents took them to the vet.  Meow’s parents hoped that the doctor could stop her passing. She was examined and the doctor found a hard lump near her kidney area which was making her suffer.  Aunt Tracy knew it was time.  A few moments later Meow Meow appeared at the Bridge.  Kit followed her a short time later.

Dogs run over the Bridge but cats, who are unaffected by great change, saunter across.  Kit and Meow Meow were met by many cat friends and family, who licked them and purred loudly.  The new angels were quickly fitted for wings.  I watched all the pain and hardship that Meow Meow and Kit had faced during their lives wash away.  They were young again.  Meow’s missing leg had regrown, and so had her tail.


Meow Meow and Kit know their parents’ hearts are broken, but their mom and dad made the ultimate sacrifice for them, giving up a piece of their souls so Meow Meow and Kit could be young and pain-free again.  They will be watching over their parents for all the days of their lives and patiently wait until their beloved parents join them in the afterlife.  They want their parents to remember the good times, to heal from their losses and to know that Meow Meow and Kit are always there with them.
Once Meow Meow and Kit were settled I went back to my side of the Bridge.  I think it is silly having different sides, but it has always been that way.


But the good things about animals is we know how to meet in the middle.

Friday, February 9, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: The Return of Aunt Foley

It has been quite awhile since I have put on the old Ask Aunt Foley hat, but I have so many friends with questions, and I have so much experience, it is my duty to help them.  So on to the mailbag.


Dear Aunt Foley:  My Mom has decided to go back to work.  I don’t know why. Is it something I did?  - Signed Molly


Dear Molly:  No, it is nothing you did.  Your Mom loves you with her whole heart.  But sometimes parents need to go to work.  They get money which they can barter for kibble toys, and treats for you.  Also, working makes them feel better about themselves.  Take heart; there is no more joyous moment than when your parent arrives home from work.  Plus, you will be missed so your playtime and walk time will be even more special.  Just sleep when Mommy is gone, and it will seem like she has been gone only a few moments and you won’t miss her at all.  


Dear Aunt Foley:  We love the Puppy Bowl.  How do we get to play in it?  Charlie, Toto, and Star


Dear Charlie, Toto, and Star:  Unfortunately, to play in the Puppy Bowl, you need to be a homeless pup, and you wouldn’t want to be that.  But you can play Puppy Bowl the home edition. Put all your toys on the floor.  Then run from one side of the house to the other while your siblings try to stop you.  Throw the stuffies in the air for field goals.  And your mom will love it because she not only gets to watch but also she can perform cleanup.  


Dear Aunt Foley:  Why don’t my parents tell me what the weather is going to do?  One day there is no snow on the ground, and the next day there is a foot of snow.  Don’t they know I have to prepare myself for this?  I have to poop and pee out there.  Why aren’t they more considerate?  Oreo



Dear Oreo:  You are so right.  Humans should tell us what the weather is going to be like so we can mentally prepare ourselves.  I think they keep the forecast from us because so many of us love snow and we would be like excited kids when snow is predicted.  Kids look outside hoping there will be no school and many of us look outside for something cool to play in.  Personally, I am for full transparency between dogs and humans.  Dogs never lie, so it is up to the humans.

Thursday, February 8, 2018

River Song and the Big Bed

Being a small dog has many advantages.  One of them is being able to sleep comfortably in the big bed at night.  If I want to snuggle with my parents, I can, but if I get tired of their constant twitching, or their overly excessive body heat, I can move to the end of the bed and sleep independently.

Sometimes I love to snuggle in bed, but it has to be on my terms.  I walk up the mattress to where my parents are sleeping and then launch myself like a 14-pound cannonball against their backs.  They wake up momentarily.  The comfort of my body lulls them back to sleep.  But if I am asleep and one them rolls over then snuggles next to me I stand up, stare at them, give them my most disgusted look, and reposition myself.

I don’t mind sharing the bed with my parents, but Pocket can be a bother. A couple of weeks ago I got a new harness with a plunging neckline.  It is very sexy.  Pocket was still wearing her old tag ring which was slightly open because of the number of times her notifications have changed.  That night Pocket slept too close to me, and her ring caught on my harness.  I was stuck next to her for the whole evening.  Hideous!

Sometimes sleeping in the bed baffles me.  I like getting under the covers, but I can’t do that because I am standing on top of the blankets and when I try to go under something is weighing everything down.  My parents have tried to show me how to step off the blankets and go under the covers, but I don’t understand.  Stupid covers!

Of course, with everyone moving and thrashing sleep gets disturbed and when that happens to me, I lead with barks and bites.  Pocket is usually my target.  My parents awaken and reach blindly to grab and separate else.  One night, one of us, gave Daddy a good bite on the thumb.  Pocket says it wasn’t her because she doesn’t have the jaw strength.  Now that is the definition of a weak excuse.

Occasionally a dingleberry turns up in the bed.  We try to convince our parents it is a sign of a Foley dream date.  While it is the type of thing, Foley would do I don’t think we have our parents convinced. They run from the bed like there was an angry lobster under the covers.  I say dingleberries happen.

I do love the bed.  I hate getting out of it, even to eat.  I would spend all day three if I could.  I would make an outstanding invalid.

If anyone wants a dog to sleep with, let me know.  I have lots of experience, and I am great in bed.

Or so I have been told.


Monday, February 5, 2018

Monday Question

if you wrote an autobiography what would the name be?

Pocket:  Poops and Shakes.  The Story of a Nervous Little Dog


River Song:  Pleasure Me With Belly Scratchers;  The LIfe of a Spoiled dog

Sunday, February 4, 2018

Abigail and Hollly are our February 4, 2018 Pups of the Week

I always have a special place in my heart for a Yorkie mix, even those I don’t know well.  While I have many friends who knew and loved Abigail the Munchkin I was just making her acquaintance when she was called the to Bridge leaving her broken hearted Mom behind.

Abigail was met by her brother Bertie who preceded her to the Bridge.  Their union was remarkable to see.  Abigail ran with a joy she had not shown in years when she saw her brother.   They met and Bertie, the larger of the two dogs, rolled on his back, and Abigail ran around nipping at him.  Then they stood and joyfully began to chase each other’s tails.  It was all we could do to get them separated so Abigail could begin the procedure of becoming an angel.

Abigail, in the mortal world, was the perfect combination of her litter parents, part Yorkie and part Jack Russell.  She lived in what we Yorkies call the old country, England, where she was happy to play the role of the lovable clown.  In the summer she loved playing in the garden  When winter came to her little town she did not act like some prissy lapdog.  She dug into the snow nose first and rejoiced in the wet and cold.  She met every day of her mortal life with a sense of adventure, as she does at the Bridge.  

She loved to snack on her Mom’s ice cream and didn’t mind getting dressed up in silly costumes so her mom could immortalize her in pictures.  Halloween and Christmas were two of their favorite holidays, and Abigail posed for dozens of photos.   She was a beautiful muse for her artistic mom.

Abigail, in both the mortal and immortal worlds, is a terrier after my own heart.  She shares my two greatest interests:  Eating and sleeping.  Despite being half Jack, Russell Abigail has proven to be an original Yorkie because she comes from the motherland of Yorkshire, England close to the River Ouse.  Losing Abigail is even harder on her mom who recently took ill and was nursed back to health by her sweet Abigail.

Now Abigail and Bertie face their biggest challenge.  They have to let their mom know that they are still there for her, and love her very much, without their mom being able to see them or talk to them.  They are trying very hard with dream and ghost visits, but it is hardest for parents to recognize angel visits when they are grieving.  Aunt Sylvia needs some prayers to get past her grief and recognize when her angels appear.

I also greeted Holly from Da Weenies in Florida, our Blogville friends.  Her pack and parents had the privilege to live with Holly for more than seventeen years.  Holly was expected to arrive at the Bridge last year because of liver failure but thanks to prednisone and her strong will she got another year as a mortal dog with her family. 

 Eventually, the affliction that none of us can conquer, old age, forced Holly to leave her pack and parents.

She lost her hearing, her sight, and her legs began to fail.  She still had a hearty appetite, but she lost weight.  Finally, her parents decided her mortal body had given every ounce of devotion it could.  On Holly’s final night with her parents, her Mom stayed up with her feeding her milk bones until she fell asleep in her mom’s arms.  Holly was placed in her bed and Jennie, Holly’s baby sister crawled into bed with you, and they snuggled for one final night.

Holly crossed the Bridge running with her sight and hearing restored and no pain.  She was met by her litter mom Bailey and sister Sarah.  They played and ran like pups.  Holly’s parents wished that she would spend her time at the Bridge running free but like all angels, a lot of Holly’s time will be spent watching over her mom and searching for a way to let her know she is OK until the day arrives that they are all together again.

Friday, February 2, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: A Visit From Daddy's Boyhood Dog Barney

My Dad’s boyhood dog Barney, a mixed breed with thick, stubby legs, a long, stout body covered with dense black fur, stopped by my cottage this week.    I don’t see much of Barney.  On the mortal side, he was a strictly outdoor dog, except for hot days or cold nights when he settled in the cellar by the stairs, and he continues to enjoy being outside, chasing bunnies filled with stuffing, jumping in the dirty swamp, and exploring every inch of the land beyond Rainbow Bridge.

He brought a stuffed rabbit he caught because he hates to arrive empty-mouthed. He sat with me at my kitchen table but I could tell he was antsy being inside so we went outdoors to the picnic table.  We began to discuss how dog's lives had changed from when he ruled his neighborhood in the 70’s to my ‘never being off leash’ lifestyle at the turn of the century.

“I know you enjoyed the pampered life Foley,” Blake said taking a long drink of water and letting out a loud burp.  “But you missed out.   When my parents got up in the morning, they unleashed me from my run, and when I came home to eat at night, they leashed me again.  I didn’t say what I was doing all day, and they didn’t want to know.  Except for the summer when I got hit by a car and had a collapsed lung, and a few random times when I raised enough of a ruckus in the neighborhood that my roaming was curbed, this was my life.

“The 70’s were a different age.  The food was terrible, a couple of crumbled Gaines burgers was considered a delicacy, my water dish was outside, and if it froze I just accepted my thirst, and no one bothered to spade their dogs.  It was a time of bad food, cold water, and random sex.

“One morning I caught the scent of a girl in heat.  No one could track down a hot chick like me.  There was a house on an adjoining street that was built with two wings on an angle with one point of entry.  There was a fertile female inside.  I banged on the door yelling ‘Open up bitch! This is the woobla goo with the green teeth, let me in!’  She declined.  

When her parents returned home, I refused to allow them entry as I growled and snapped at them.  They went to a store down the street and called the dog officer, who was familiar with my work.  After getting a brief description, the dog officer contacted my parents who drove to the house to pick me up.  When I saw the car, I said ‘Hey honey, my ride is here,’ and then jumped in the vehicle to be chauffeured home.  That got me a month in solitary attached to my leash.

“Another time I was hanging out with your Dad while he was waiting for the school bus.  A randy beagle crossed the yard.  She stopped, our eyes met, she gave me a brief nod, and I mounted her like Sir Edmund Hillary on Everest.  The school bus pulled up with a bunch of innocent middle school children inside, and they saw and me and the lollipop going at it on the front lawn.  I gave the students a big smile that said  ‘someday kids you’ll be having this much fun’ and then swatted the bitch on the butt with my paw as the bus pulled away.

“That was a more valuable lesson than anything those kids learned in school,” Barney said.  He then excused himself, because he could smell the wild in the air and had to answer the call.  I watched him run off into the woods.




I did admire Barney’s freedom, and he always had great stories, but I prefer being a homebody than an outside dog and I also knew, in Barney’s world, I would be the one getting paw swatted in the butt.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Pocket Prefers Pooping Solo

Where was I?  Oh, that’s right.  My favorite blogging subject.  Midnight poops.

I prefer to take my midnight stroll solo.  Daddy is welcome.  Someone has to pick up the poop.  But I would prefer to leave River behind.  She has no patience for anyone’s pooping except her own.

When River doesn’t go with us, she hops over to the kitchen window and peers outside with a sad look on her face.  She forlornly watches as we walk up the street up till we are out of sight.  She stays there until she can see us then she begins to howl.  It is rather pathetic.  Even though she is inside where it is warm and dry, and with Mommy, she is so unhappy.

Most of the time, when she doesn’t go out it is for her own good.  It is either really cold or very wet, two things that she can’t tolerate.  Usually, River anticipates when it is time to go outside and pees on her pads just before Daddy grabs the leashes.  You would think she would be happy not have to partake in accompanying me for the midnight poop of Pocket Dog.

She is fine staying inside when we stay in the yard, but once we turn up the street, she becomes jealous.

In my opinion, taking her with us is worse. Daddy holds our leashes in his right hand keeping his left hand available for poop grabbing.   I need to take a couple of hundred steps before I can entertain the possibility of pooping.  River pees first but then she wants to go back in the house and starts walking in the wrong direction.  I join Daddy in providing enough force to drag the stubborn Griffon up the street.

When I finally reach my poop spot, I begin to spin, spin, spin, spin like a spinning top.  I can spin around thirty times before I pop a squat.  Spin and squat the is my system.

 When River is with me, she can pull me out of my spin, and when that happens, I have to start twirling again.  I have a poop system, it works for me, and I am not changing it for my impatient sister.

Daddy has to hold River’s leash with his free hand until I squat.  Then he lets go of the leash to grab a bag while I am squatting and River begins to walk home.  Have you ever been dragged forward mid evacuation?  It is disruptive, it is painful, and it is inconsiderate.  If River doesn’t  respect my poop system, she should stay home. Certain things are sacred. 

I do hope River’s pulling during my pooping become more of a problem than her sad face in the window when I got out with Daddy at night.


How much is that doggy in the window?  Not enough to interrupt a good