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
.
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.

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Beat This Caption



I have tried them all. Seresto, Advantage, Frontline, Bravecto but no matter what I do I still have cats

Monday, March 5, 2018

Monday Question

Do you have any sleeping positions that your parents find off or interesting?

Pocket:  I sleep on my back with my tongue hanging out of my mouth.

River Song:  I sleep on my side with my arms straight out like a toy horse that has tipped over.

Sunday, March 4, 2018

Guinevere is our March 4 2017 Pup of the Week


I woke up as a gentle golden paw shook my shoulder.  I opened my eyes and saw Angel Misha, one of the Golden Girls, standing over me.  Her sad eyes told me all I needed to know.  I sighed as I got out of bed.  Our prayers had failed.  The heavenly Group Of Dogs who now run Rainbow Bridge said no. Misha’s sister Guinevere had begun her journey.

We walked to the landing at the top of the stairs.  Misha blinked her eyes.  I could not detect if it was from being tired or sad.  For two weeks she had shuttled from the Group of Dogs who run the Bridge to Guinevere and their parents desperately trying to heal her sister.  Misha lay down and put her golden head on her long yellow legs.
“How long have you been here Misha?” I asked.

“Since December 2013,” she said sadly.  I had no idea it had been that long.  “My parents have not recovered from my passing.  Now Guinevere.”  She took a deep breath, and I laid down next to her.  We waited.

The Golden Girls are natural performers.  They have shelves full of ribbons and awards in recognition of their outstanding work in agility.  All pup parents love their dogs, but there is a special connection between competitive dogs and their humans.   The hours of training and events solidify their relationship in a unique way.

On February 17, Guinevere was performing brilliantly in competition, and two days later she jumped on the couch, lost her balance, fell off, and had a seizure.  Her parents rushed her to the vet.  He said Guin was anemic and her blood levels were close to critical.  She had to be left there, much to her parent's dismay.

That is when her parents began their free fall.  It occurs when parents understand their babies are sick but don’t know why and they can’t stop it.  The further they fall the more hope is lost until they accept that there is nothing left but crashing through the bottom and letting their baby go.

The doctor zeroed in on a problem with Guin’s bone marrow.  Unfortunately, it took several days to get results from the test, so she had to stay at the vet.  Guin was happy when her parents visited, and had a healthy appetite, but her blood levels did not rise, even after a transfusion.  The angels kept praying, and her parents kept falling.

It seemed the prayers were being answered when Guin got to go home but her parents could tell she was not herself. They took her back for another test, and her levels had crashed again.  The vet said that Guin’s immune system was attacking the red blood cells as soon as they were created.  No medication or supplement could reverse it. 

Her parents had to cure her.  But there was only one way to do that, and it was to let her go.  They did and hit the bottom of that long free fall.  That is when Misha and I heard the paws running expertly over the Bridge like someone trained to avoid every pebble.

Misha stood up.  Her tail began to wag.  It was foggy around the Bridge.  Guinevere burst through the clouds and came running towards Misha.  I softly bit Misha’s golden tail holding her back until Guin reached the landing, and then I let go.  The two golden sisters stood on their back legs and hugged.  They dropped to all fours and began to run up the hills, through the valleys, barking hello to their friends.  Misha had her wings, and Guin became jealous after seeing the new tricks Misha could do.

She wanted her wings now!  I gave her the oath, and Scooby fitted her for a pair of beautiful golden wings.  The girls began running again, this time Guin took flight with Misha.  Guin picked up on flying as quickly as she did agility.

Finally, they lay in a golden pile, their mouths open, their tongues wagging, exhausted.  I had not seen Misha this happy since she arrived at the Bridge
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A short time later they arose and began their new mission.  They had to slowly, day by day, help their parents recover from their fall and escape from the darkness.  If I can give their mom and dad a piece of advice, it would be that the best way to escape the darkness is to follow the light.


The golden light from the Golden Girls.  It will show them the way back home.

Saturday, March 3, 2018

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: A Picnic Adventure with Angel Loey

The Triple T’s Mom Aunt Linda asked me to write about some of the adventures we angels have at Rainbow Bridge.  I am happy to accommodate her.  Since Aunt Linda asked I feel it is proper to write about an adventure, I undertook with Aunt Linda’s Angel Lovey.

One day Lovey came to me with the idea of going on a beautiful picnic on top of a waterfall that fed the river.  It was dangerous getting there, but Lovey was sure we could do it.  We needed a couple of stronger dogs to help us with the climb, so we invited Reyah and Pintus.  Lovey, who is an excellent cook, said that she would make the food.  The next morning the four of us took off on our adventure.

We reached the base of the waterfall.  Pintus had promised there was a balloon that would take us to the top of the cliff, but while we were walking, we saw it floating away.  A squirrel had chewed through the line.  Darn those squirrels.  They are impossible to deal with even in the afterlife.  Reyah looked at the vertical climb to the top and said she was sure we could do it.  Pintus agreed.  Lovey and I were made for beauty, not climbing, but we didn’t want to say no.

Reyah and Pintus took off up the steep hill.  Lovey grabbed the picnic basket in her mouth and began to climb slowly but she was struggling so I said I would take the weight.  I bit down on the handle, and we got halfway up when I stepped on a briar and opened my mouth to say “Ow!”  The basket fell all the way down to the river.

Dejectedly, a half hour after we began our ascent, Lovey and I reached the cliff at the top of the waterfall.  We thought Pintus and Reyah would be disappointed, but we found they prepared two wooden bins filled with warm, soapy water where we could take a bath and get all the mud off.  We pampered lap dogs happily took our baths.

While we were soaking in the baths, Pintus and Reyah went foraging and came back with apples, watermelons, lots of nuts, and some fresh salmon they caught n the river.  Pintus lit a fire, and when we got out of our baths and dried off in the sun, we enjoyed the picnic.  Because of Pintus and Reyah, the day was saved  

We laid on the ground next to one another for a post-picnic nap.  I put my head on Lovey’s belly.  She was so soft, and the water that Pintus and Reyah got for us was scented with strawberry, so she smelled lovely.  When we awoke some chipmunks came out of the forest, and they dashed in front of us.  We gave them a rousing chase laughing the whole time.


The sun was setting, and it was time for us to get back down.  I wasn’t looking forward to the steep climb down, but Pintus said it would be fun if we jumped.  I was reluctant, but Reyah insisted.  What could go wrong?  We were immortal.  Lovey and I were still scared, but we grabbed paws and jumped off the waterfall like Thelma and Louise.  It was exhilarating, and we happily splashed in the water.  Reyah and Pintus followed.

 Lovey and I said we wanted to do it again but didn’t want to climb.  Reyah and Pintus said they would carry us so we got a ride up the hill and we kept jumping in until it was dark and a sweet Paco came to look for us and lead us home.

We do miss our humans at the Bridge, but we have lots of friends here at our Doggy Space, we take care of one another and make sure we never get lonely.  


We are all each other’s angels.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Pocket's Ordinary Trip to the Vet

One day last week we left River Song alone in the house.  As I settled on Mommy’s lap, Daddy started the car, and I became excited about the prospect of our destination.   Disappointingly, as usual, our ride concluded at the vets.  It is one of life’s never-ending disappointments.

I had four vet trips last year, one for my checkup, one for teeth removal and cleaning, one for a collapsed trachea, and one for a nasty tick.  I did not enjoy any of them.  When we arrived at the vet, I ran my tongue around my few remaining teeth and worried that at worst they would take more and at best they would give me sleepy juice and clean them.

As we crossed the threshold, my Dad handed over a fecal sample, apparently mine, which displeased me.  It has long been my policy not to give a s**t, and I have no respect for a person who takes s**t.  But I quickly forgot about it when I saw the busy waiting room.

Mom and I sat in a chair, but Daddy had to stand by the door because the other seats were occupied.  I did not like this arrangement.  When I am nervous, I like to shuttle between their laps, and I had a right to be nervous.  Whenever you go to a place where they removed some of your precious body parts you need to worry.

A woman was sitting on our left with a plump chihuahua.  Usually, when I am with other dogs, I bark and act obnoxiously, but on this day we just glanced at one another expressing sympathy.  The little dog had climbed on his mama’s shoulder, as I often do when scared.  Besides being in the doctor’s office, there was another reason for concern.
There were two cats in the office.  In a dog hospital!  It was unsanctioned, unnecessary and unsanitary.  Luckily, they were both in carriers, so I did not have to protect my mom from another vicious attack on her eyes by cornea thirsty kitties. Thankfully, they were both taken into exam rooms before any real damage occurred.

Then they called my name.  I tried to not get the trembles.  I went into a clean, well-lit room.  They placed me on a cold table and weighed me.  Then the doctor came in with a technician.  The tech laughed when she saw me.  The vet had told her I was a big girl who was hard to handle.  I was happy that she found me to be little and cute but didn’t know if their comments were appropriate.  Is it right for a human doctor to go into exam a woman and say “Wow, I expected you to be fat?”  I do not believe in body shaming.

The doctor listened to my heartbeat for too long, according to my concerned parents who were reading every tick of the doctor’s face to determine if she heard anything unusual.  She pronounced me in top health.   Then wham, a needle in the butt, bam, another needle in the butt, and thank you, ma’am, something squirted in my mouth.

  She looked at my teeth and said they were good and that made us all happy.  Some vets, once they get in your mouth, want to keep cleaning.  I am glad mine is leaving my few pearly whites alone

My parents quickly paid and we slunk out the side door.


I do like my vet, but I sure hope I don’t see one again until next year.