Thursday, May 31, 2018

River Tries To Save a Butterfly Bush


On Monday, one of my favorite plants, butterfly bush number 2, needed an operation.  We had a hard winter, and one section of the bush became bent and was scraping the driveway.  Mommy and Daddy studied the patient. They discussed cutting back the bush and removing the scraping section down to the root.  One of them suggested to try to tie off the bush to keep in standing, but the ground was too soft and the bush too strong.

Pocket and I were in our buggy.  I calmly listened and tried to determine the best course of action.  Pocket fretted over her favorite bush and only mumbled nervously. She would be no help.  The bush’s future was in my paws.

“We need to trim the back of the bush and completely cut the front,” I said confidently.
  
“Oh no, we can’t trim any of the bush!” Pocket cried.   Her worrisome nature was annoying.

“I am not sure River,” Mommy said.  “What if the bush doesn’t come back?”

“Dammit Mommy, I’m a doctor, not a pathologist.  !  But I know how to save this bush. Just listen to me.  The Griff always knows.” I barked.

Mommy and Daddy briefly discussed it.  They knew I was right. Mommy began to slowly cut away the branches.  Pocket gave out a small cry with each cut. Slowly the plant began to take shape again.  Mommy did not have the strength to dig the roots from the front part of the bush out of the ground.

Daddy had to come with a saw and shovel to remove the crushed part of the bush. It was hard to watch as he had to twist it back and forth, cutting the roots until it was free.  He then had to snip our flowering friend, who had brought so many butterfly angels into our yard, into smaller parts, and shove it into a trash bag like he had performed a mob hit.

I was impressed with the surgeons’ techniques.  The bush looks strong and healthy, even though it only a quarter of the size it was before the operation.  Mommy isn’t sure it is going to make it. She is going to have to give it a lot of tender loving care in the weeks to come. 

Our butterfly bushes are very important to us.  They are a beacon to draw in visiting angels. We are going to need Butterfly Bush #2 back to full strength in a month.  Angel visiting time is upon us, and we have to make sure they find their way our abode.

If you are so inclined to pray for vegetation, then please pray for our butterfly bush.  If it doesn’t survive then, well, I guess we will just buy a new one, so it’s not the end of the world, except for butterfly bush #2.  

Keep butterfly bush #2 alive.  It fought through the winter, it fought while being cut back, it fought through the aphid infestation, and it is fighting now.

Surely a Butterfly Bush #2 deserved an #2 chance,

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Beat This Caption

I'm telling you I found chopsticks and a lo mein box.  I have almost reached China.

Monday, May 28, 2018

Monday Question

On this Memorial Day please name the pets you are remembering this day

Foley Monster
Sky
Jax
Copper
Blake
Gizmo
Barney



Nico

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Stella Rose is our May 27, 2018 Pup of the Week


On April 24 my sister River Song got this message from our friend Stella.

“Dear Mrs. Marsha:  This is Stella Rose just in case you thought it is that crazy ass ferret Ed, I just wanted to clarify.  So anyway in case you didn't know I have been sick AGAIN, wif those damn stones and I wanted to address somefing wif you.  I know your River has connections wif the "Big Guy" and I wondered if you could discuss something wif River and him for me. I decided I wanted to share my plan, wif you, and River and I guess the "Big Guy".  So when the time comes and the medicines stop working, I have decided I am not crossing over to the Rainbow Bridge, I am only going 10 steps across, and putting up a pup (lol) tent, and building a fire wif smores, and just waiting around on my mom. Even if it takes 50 years, I am just going to wait.   Now I am sure there are rules and fings up there, so that is why I need River on my side about this. So I hope I am not putting you in a precarious position but it is somefing I just wanted to talk to you about. It is not that I think I am special and should not cross like all the other dogs and kittens and cats etc. do, but I am just a rather stubborn little pug, and have been known to dig my heels in when something does not set well wif me.  So ten steps, and I wait, for however long it takes. If I run out of smores its okay. Your Friend in Blogville.......Stellie Rose”

River gave me Stella’s letter the next time I visited her in her dreams.  “What did you tell her?” I asked River.

“I said it was perfectly fine,” River said, unconcerned.

“You said it was fine!” I barked.  “It’s not fine. This has never been done before.  This is unheard of. Not completing the journey!” I was very flustered.  “You have to tell her no!”

River shrugged.  “Sorry, I already said yes and you know you can’t break a promise to a pug.”

I hurried back to the Bridge. I had so much work to do before Stellie got there.  I met with the Big Guy. I met with a Board of Big Guy’s. I met with the Big Guy Board.  Finally, I was given a judgment. Stellie could stop ten steps away from Rainbow Bridge and wait.

Last week Casey, one of our newer angels, came to tell me that Stella visited him in his dreams.  She said she would be joining us very soon, but she had changed her mind. Stella would climb to the top step and be closer to Casey, Trudee. Sammy J and Cotton, but she would still be only 21 steps from her mom.   She had no intention of completing her journey. What was I going to tell the Big Guy Board?

I stood before them and said that Stella would be stopping at the 21st step and not the 10th.  Oh, how the Big Guys thundered! Lightning bolts were thrown! Hail rained down from the heavens!.  Who was to blame for this outrage, they asked. I stammered, I stuttered, and then I blurted out the world’s oldest excuse:  “Spell check error.”
They stopped their grumbling.  “Oh, spell check error, perfectly understandable, Stella’s plans were approved.

I hurried back to Rainbow Bridge Landing, and I found Stella, on the top step, setting up her tent.  She smiled and blew me a kiss. “Don’t you want to come all the way to the top?” I asked. “You can get your wings, fly through the hills, eat at the chocolate forest, choose a body from any time in your life, or become a butterfly to see your parents.  It’s just one more step.”

Stella was a very stubborn little girl.  But that stubbornness served her well. It got her through going blind, becoming mostly deaf, suffering debilitating, painful bladder stones, and back leg problems that greatly affected her walking.  But Stella kept moving forward, through the darkness, the silence, and those long nights when it was just her and the pain. She stayed by her mother’s side longer than most dogs could bear. Now, after her mom had helped her pass, she would not take that final step onto the Bridge, afraid that cord that had connected Stella and her mom would break if she did.

“I am fine,” Stella assured me as she finished her tent.  I ducked inside as the clouds of humans tears for her passing passed past over us.  When I opened the flap, Casey ran inside, knocking me over. He licked and kissed Stella so much he would have suffocated her if she still needed air.

And that is where she has been ever since.  Casey spends a lot of time with her, but he also runs with his siblings.  Each day I ask Stella if she wants to take the final step and she says no, she will wait for her mom.  She has become the first angel to greet dogs when they arrive at the Bridge. I don’t mind that she usurped me.  I am still the official greeter and oath giver.


No one passed a proclamation or made it official, but the top step is now known as Stella’s step and will be long after her mom takes the final step with her and they walk off together into Rainbow Bridge.

Friday, May 25, 2018

A girls night out with Whitley, Sophie and Pepper turns into a rescue mission


With all the new angels we have greeted this month it was time for me to have a girl’s night out.  I gathered my good friends Whitley the Westie who whipped up some awesome clothes for us to wear, Pepper, always a fun little girl, and Sophie-Rae, the most loyal lady I know, who I had to pry from her brother’s Jasper side with the promise of many free Foleytinis.

First I took my girls out dancing.  Whitley is an expert jitterbugger. She is small but her little white paws move quickly.  Sophie-Rae is more of a ballroom girl and every boy in the place wanted to whirl her around the dance floor.  Pepper got up on the bar and kept every entertained with her twerking while I crowd surfed across the floor.

Then we went to Hawaii.  We didn’t want to make light of the terrible problems the volcanoes have caused but when you and your squad get a chance to ride the lava you can’t pass it up.  We were all shot high in the air by the warm liquid and then we went flying down the mountain faster than we have ever gone before. We had never been warmer or gone faster.  We have to warn that this should only be done by the immortal dogs. If a mortal dog tried they could end up more than singed.

We went down to the beach.  It was nighttime and we were going to lay there until dawn when Pepper said that she smelled something burning.  I turned around and saw that my tail was on fire. I ran into the ocean to put the fire out. It caused the ocean to sizzle.

The other girls were laughing at my misfortune and I was embarrassed but then I realized I was with my squad and I laughed with them.  Sophie Rae said we should help the people who have lost their homes. There wasn’t much physically we could do for them but we gave them a special blessing for good luck because there is no worse luck than losing your home to a volcano.

I was again amazed, looking at these poor people who have lost their homes, that they still maintained their strength and dignity.  I try to maintain mine, but sometimes things go wrong, like the other day there was no margarine in the refrigerator. I lost it. I guess that is why we are the support animals.  The humans have the right attitude for the big stuff while we are made to provide them support while they accomplish amazing things.

We spent the rest of the night trying to get pets that had been left behind to the humans who were looking for them. We can communicate with animals better than humans so we directed the pets where to find their rescuers.  After saving as many scared animals as we could Sophie-Rae, Pepper, Whitley and I returned home.


Such is the lives of pup angels.  Even when we try to party we end up helping.  I guess that is what makes us angels.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Pocket's True Confessions


I don’t get to go to church often, so I need to make my confessions here and now.
Sometimes I pretend I don’t want to eat when I actually do. My parents give me attention and eventually more food.

I give River a mean look which causes her to snap at me and then I whine and get lots of snuggling from my parents.

On walks, when I want to sniff the ground longer, I pretend to pee because my parents don’t pull on the leash when I am peeing.

I have eaten both grain free food and food full of grain, and they both taste like crap.

Actually, that isn’t true.  If River poops on the pads and I  get there first, I eat her poop, and I like it more than kibble.

Sometimes, I will bark for no reason in the middle of the night to make my parents move so I can sleep on the warm spot on the bed.

During walks, when I endlessly bark at my neighbors, I am criticizing their fashion choices.  Long pants and flip-flops together annoy me.
If parents can yell at the TV during sporting events, the
n I can look out the window and bark at nothing.

I love to talk with my friends on the Internet, but if I met them in real life, I would probably just bark at them, wag my tail, and make a fool of myself.

The only thing I have learned that is close to a trick is acting like I didn’t get a treat and making my other parent give me another one.

I know what those signs with the squatting dog on a lawn with an x through it mean but I always leave a little poop in my system just for their lawn.

When it comes to pee-mail, she who pees last pees the longest.

It is weird that I don’t mind sniffing River’s butt, but I don’t like that we drink out of the same dish.


Sometimes I fake wagging my tail.  I’m not excited, but it makes my parents happy to think they are leaving me satisfied, and I just want to go to sleep, so a little fake wag never hurt anyone.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Beat This Caption



I told you we had pigs.  You said, "oh no, how could we have pigs." Well, not only do we have pigs but we have pigs in a blanket.  I swear, no one ever listens to the dog.

Monday, May 21, 2018

Monday Question

What do you do that always makes your parents smile?

Pocket:  When I paw at my parents with a particular pathetic expression because I am sad and want attention.


River:  When my parents are eating supper, and they have some kibble on the table for us, and I want a kibble, my eyes dart back and forth from one parent to the next and then at the kibble as if I am saying "I would like one of those please." 

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Scooter is our May 20 2018 Pup of the Week



Life is often cruel.  Even after nearly five years at Rainbow Bridge, I don’t understand why terrible things happen to wonderful people.  No one on either side of the River of Life does. There are theories: The aggrieved party is being tested. There will be a greater reward for them someday.  I wish I knew if this was true. I just know senseless things continue to happen to people who deserve only the best.

I have been friends with the Min-Pin Gang for as long as I can remember.  Crickette Anne joined me at Rainbow Bridge in October 2014. She has been a prayer leader for her sister Mouse who has has been battling illnesses for months.   Little did any of us know we should have been praying for her brother Scooter.

Two weeks ago, in the midst of Mouse’s health issues, and their mom, Aunt Betty, being at the end of her emotional rope, Scooter began to experience throat reflex, gagging, and was licking the floor.  Scooter had been his mom’s rock during Mouse’s crises. Now his crises were more critical than his sister’s.

I admit I did not think Scooter’s condition was serious.  Pocket had acted the same way when her tummy was upset, as did I when I had a trachea incident.  I thought it would pass, and Aunt Betty hoped it would pass, but it didn’t, and Scooter had to go the vet.


X-rays looked good, and the vet hoped it was a passing incident, but Scooter kept licking and hacking, then he ate a piece of carpet.  He had to be taken back to the vet. The carpet was obstructing his digestion and needed to be surgically removed. The vet thought the surgery was successful and said Scooter could go home the next day, but he passed away that night
.
Both Crickette Anne and I were shocked to see Scooter walking over the Bridge then climbing the stairs to induction ledge.  We could tell the mortals were shocked too because of the number of tears that fell on us. Crickette Anne hugged her little brother; I gave him his angel vows, Ladybug fit him for his wings, Paco and Leo signed him up for dream classes so he could see his mom then Crickette showed them their home.

Most of us know what caused us to go to the Bridge.  But Scooter was as baffled as everyone else. He knew he wasn’t feeling well, and having anything in his belly made it feel better, but the question will eternally remain why.  There is no way for us angels to know, and when parents lose a heart dog, knowing why doesn’t help. Nothing will ease Aunt Betty’s sorrow.

The only thing that life promises is that it will never be fair.  Everyone deals with unfair episodes in their lives, but Aunt Betty has been put through more than her share.  She is mourning the sudden passing of her healthy dog while still dealing with the emotions and expenses of her sick dog.  People have been praying very hard for Mouse since the start of her illness, but now, with Scooter gone, we need to double our efforts.

Humans bare their bad luck.  They really are a remarkable and resilient species.  I watch them after they lose their pups, and I don’t think it is possible for them to go on.  But they do. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, through more misfortune than imaginable, humans keep going forward.

If you are one of the lucky people, who is experiencing a run of good fortune maybe you could spare some coins for Aunt Betty who has been swamped by vet bills during her crises.  There is a Go Fund Me page here https://www.gofundme.com/vet-expenses-for-mouse  and if you can’t we understand.
So many people are facing so much misfortune, but I know you will survive.


You are humans, and that is what you do.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Casey is our May 18 2018 Pup of the Week


Another week is gone, and more of my friends have arrived at Rainbow Bridge.  I will not let a single one pass through the gates at the end of Rainbow Bridge without paying tribute to them.  Hopefully, my words can bring just a single second of comfort to their bereaved parents because if we can’t provide comfort for friends in need what is the point of existence?

A month ago I wrote about Jessie, my Blogville friend, who passed over the Bridge, a victim of renal failure, just short of her fourth birthday.  Having young dogs arrive here is particularly hard as we can see the future they could have had with their family if they had not been so unfairly claimed by illness.  What makes these premature passings even more tragic is they usually have an older sibling who is closer to the age dogs mortal lives end.

Casey is Jessie’s big brother.  As much as their mom loved Jessie she knew, from the moment that she met Casey, that they would share a bond that she would never experience with another pup. Mom and dog were meant to be together, going on walks with Casey’s head held high and snuggling on the couch together for hours.  Casey was a heart dog, his mom’s handsome man, her baby boy. He was happy if he was with his mom, and so was she.

Earlier this year Casey was diagnosed with cancer, and all the doctor could give him was an estimate of the time he had left.  His mom promised him that they would make the most of their time together and she would never let him lose his dignity. When his body began failing him his mom arranged for Casey’s favorite people to visit him to tearfully say goodbye and then she took him to the vet.

Mother and dog promised they would see each again.  She stroked her boy and told him she was upholding her promise.  He would not live in pain; he would not lose his dignity, the bad memories would not outweigh the good.  Casey knew the gift of eternal life he was receiving, and he quietly slept from the mortal world to the immortal one.

He appeared in the distance, running as he had as a pup, turning and crossing the Bridge, tiny pebbles being kicked up under his paws.  He stopped and saw Jessie, and Cinderella, who had preceded Jessie to the Bridge, along with dozens of other angels, cheering Casey as he ran up the steps and into his sisters’ open arms and holding each other for a long time.

He graciously allowed me to give him the angel oath, and be fitted for his wings while the clouds of human tears fell on us.  When the skies had cleared from the good hard rain, Casey told his sisters he made his mom a promise, which the three of them would run through the hills, streams, and valleys, laughing all the way, just as she had envisioned.  The trio of siblings darted off and ran together for hours.

Now, when not playing together, they are visiting their mom as birds, butterflies and ghosts.while slipping into her dreams hoping for just one second she will recognize them or remember their visits.  The odds are slim. But so are the odds of finding the perfect heart dog. His mom did that with Casey.

Thursday, May 17, 2018

River Is Not An Easy Dog To Pick Up


I am not, by any means, an easy dog.  I do not like to be picked up.

If I want to be with you there is no stopping me.  I have been known to, in bed, leaning against one of my parents so hard that my 14 pounds can shove them off the bed.  I also, if I want some Dad kisses, can jump up on the recliner, stand on his chest, and pleasure myself.

Without the desire for licks, I become very shy about getting up in the chair.  It’s not that I can’t do it. When my parents are out of the house they know I have been on the chairs and prowling the end tables.  This Saturday I somehow turned off the Alexa Soothing Music For Dogs with Separation Anxiety and turned on the TV,
Just so you know Amazons’ Soothing Music For Dogs with Separation Anxiety sucks.  I don’t know where they find these hipster crooners but their tepid tunes don’t soothe me but rather incite me to find a hammer and smash the tiny Echo so I can pace, worry, and drool in peace. After several tries adjusting my bark I was finally able to bark “Alexa, for the love of God, stop!” As for turning on the TV, I figured out how the remote works.  If I can decipher how to scroll through the channel guide I will have mastered the home entertainment world.

While I fly around the house when it is vacant, if my parents are in their chairs, and I do not feel the urgent need to lick a face, I lose my lift. My parents call me to come sit in the recliners with them but I pace the floor, lick my nose, push off with my back legs, but my butt never leaves the floor.

I wonder if I need to go to a pup psychologist.  I don’t yip when my parents are seated but I have the yips.  Like a pitcher who can’t throw a strike, I am a dog who can’t jump in a chair.  I overthink the amount of thrust I need, where I will land if I will fall and I fail to launch.

Worse, when my parents relent and bend down to pick me up, I retreat to the far side of the room and curl into a ball, too ashamed of my inability to do what should come naturally.   Then I put my head down and bend away from my parents as I cower at my failure. Kindly, like I am an elderly dog who no longer has the ability, or worse, a shorty like Pocket, I am aided to the chair, where I contently sit until something catches my eye, I jump down and start the entire process again.

I do need to get over my chair yips.  If anyone knows a good dog psychiatrist let me know.  If that is not possible I need the number of a pharmacist who can get me a Cialis prescription.  From what I hear it helps Dad to lift off when he can’t get off the ground.

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Beat This Capiton

"So you found out!  Well, I don't care. We are in love.  Who is to say it is wrong? You? The world?  Well, we are done playing by your rules man! Now shut the door and leave us alone.”

Monday, May 14, 2018

Monday Question

Can you do any tricks?

Pocket:  I was raised with Foley who found doing tricks to be demeaning to dogs.  I wished I learned them.  They do make our parents happy.




River:  I can shake hands.  I can also walk backward on two legs but that is not a trick it is just a way to keep my eyes on my food bowl while walking to where I know it will be placed.

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Hobo Hudson is our May 13 2018 Pup of the Week



Fifty years in the future I sit correcting papers for my Dog Lawyers class at Hobo Hudson University.  I am one of the hundreds of teachers instructing unborn puppies the laws that must not be broken to fulfill Hobo’s dream to make the world a better place.

This has been Hobo’s dream since he arrived at Rainbow Bridge in a rush.  He was talking before I could finish my induction. “The world is such a mess,” Hobo interrupted.  “The key is that souls are born knowing nothing, but what if they knew right from wrong immediately and grew up as moral, fair-minded souls?   Life would certainly be better.”

I didn’t have time to agree with him before he buzzed by me, his friends and family who had arrived to greet him.  He went right to the library where I found him sitting on the floor surrounded by plans. “Hobo,” I said softly, “a lot of dogs have different reactions when they arrive here.”

He held up a paw.  “No time Foley. I have a meeting with Aristotle. He read the proposal I sent him and agrees.  He is going to start working with human babies. Imagine people being born who have been taught by the history’s best teachers?  We are going to change the world.” Before I could talk Hobo had run out the door to meet with Aristotle.

The great philosopher agreed with Hobo and acquiesced to work with the unborn babies.  Soon, from the human side to the dog side, the sound of construction echoed off the mountains of Rainbow Bridge.  In weeks the new buildings were done, the universities opened and the unborn were being taught.

Hobo’s closest friends including, Hattie Mae, Tommy Tunes. Smoochy, Brody, Leo and I began to teach classes in our respected fields. Hobo acted as both dean and president while instructing a class on manipulating the bone market.  The Angels said they had never seen a dog adapt better to being at the Bridge than Hobo but I knew better.

I began working later at night and waiting.  One evening I heard a soft weeping coming down the hall.  I walked to Hobo’s office and saw him looking out the window and crying.  He saw my reflection and quickly composed himself.
“Damn allergies,” he said blowing his nose.

“It’s time,” I said walking towards him and taking him by the paw.  He weakly insisted he could not leave but let me guide him anyway. We came to the borrowed bodies factory and each chose a lovely tree swallow.  “Are you ready Hobo?” I asked. He sadly nodded agreeing to do what he had put off since he reached the Bridge.

Paw in paw we flew into the sun and came out in Hobo’s parents’ backyard.  We glided to the kitchen window. “There they are,” Hobo said softly as he gazed at his parents sitting with Wiley.  His dad’s eyes were slightly vacant. His mom stared ahead. “They are so sad,” Hobo said softly. Then his dad looked up and saw us at the window.  He smiled slightly and nodded acknowledgment. Hobo, in his swallow body, nodded back, and then we flew back to the Bridge. When we arrived Hobo thanked me.
I gave him a hug.  “That is why we do angel visits,” I told him.  “They are hard on us, but it gives our parents a few moments of pleasure, and that’s what angels do.”

“I was just a dog tied to a tree,” Hobo said quietly.  “My dad walked by every day. Finally, he asked the owner if he could take me home.  Since then Foley, I had the greatest life. I became famous, I wrote two books,” he paused and looked deeply into my eyes.  “If you are going to write about this then here would be a good place to plug the books.”

(The Richest Dog in Town can be bought here and Bioterrorism Seized the Sea can be bought here.)

“Look at all the wonderful people you have brought into your parents’ lives Hobo,” I told him.  “If not for you, when you passed over, your parents would have only each other to help them grieve.  But they have people from all over the world who are mourning with them. You gave them joy, and people to love, there is no greater gift.”

“And they gave me my life,” Hobo said.  “I didn’t think I could bare to visit them, but now that I have maybe we can do it some more.  It sure was nice to see dad’s smile again.”

I promised him we could go anytime he wanted.

Now, 50 years later, Hobo’s parents are with him, as is Wyley, and their entire family. Mine is as well. We are all happy together like we were when we first met at Doggyspace.

The world is a much kinder, gentler place as well.  Hobo’s and Aristotle’s idea for a university for babies and puppies took years to bear fruit but now countries cooperate with one another and people reason instead of fight.  No one on the mortal side knows what turned the world from being an angry place that seemed ready to explode once a week to a peaceful one.

But we angels know.  It was the Hobo Effect. 

Once again Hobo has saved the world.  

Friday, May 11, 2018

Daisy is our May 11 2018 Pup of the Week


Normally I wait until Sunday to announce my Pup of the Week but when two giants depart for the Bridge within two days of one another both need to be honored with their own blog.  Today, sadly, I am writing about sweet Daisy.

The cruelest reasons that souls pass to the Bridge are usually ones that start out quite ordinary.  Daisy was constipated. She went to the doctor who gave her some medication. The constipation passed, but she would not eat.  The vet said she had gas and gave her more medication. But, even with the medicine, Daisy still showed no interest in food. She grew weaker and was no longer the fun-loving dog we all knew.  There was little to be done to for her. Her father gave her the most precious gift and sent her to the Bridge.

Her dad will be happy to know that when Daisy crossed the Bridge, she did so running.  Daisy, when she was on the mortal side, loved to run. She spent a lot of time on the farm with her dad.  There were acres to run and play with her brother Kane. There wasn’t a rabbit safe in the entire state of Kansas.

Daisy’s last year as a mortal was a struggle.  She had a cyst that needed to be removed and cut down on her activity.  A farm dog trapped inside and unable to help with the crops is one sad baby.

Now Daisy will never be stuck inside when there is farming work to be done again.  Once she went through the usual rituals of becoming immortal, the swearing in, the fitting of wings, the lessons on dream, butterfly, bird, and ghosting visits, and how to watch over her family, we brought Daisy to the Rainbow Bridge Doggyspace Farm.

I know many parents have told their children when they have not been able to confess that their beloved pet had gone to the Bridge, that they sent the dog to a farm upstate where it could play with the other animals and have fun all day long.  Little did these parents know that there was such a farm, but it isn’t upstate, it is just up the road from Doggyspace, and lots of dogs are doing what parents thought was a white led, running, playing, and caring for the animals.

Daisy isn’t just playing, because she has so much farm experience she is in charge of many of the angels who happily work on the farm.  In just a few days Daisy has made the operation more productive. We all have delicious fresh vegetables every day because Daisy has learned how to make broccoli taste like bacon.

We all know how terribly heartbroken Kane, his parents, and friends are now that Daisy is gone.  They have a hole in their hearts that will be there a long time. We are all going to work hard to make them smile and know they are loved, and Daisy is going to spend lots of time visiting them.  I am sure, on the family farm, there will be lots of opportunities for Daisy to borrow winged bodies and say hello to her mortal family. We hope it comforts them to know that somewhere in a land they cannot get to yet Daisy is making the immortal lives of angels better by being Miss Daisy, a gentle lady farmer.

As she told me while we looked over her long field of chocolate corn, she learned from the best farmer, her Dad.

We all tip our tails to him for raising such a well mannered, caring, and talented dog. 

The mortal world is worse off for Daisy’s passings, but the immortal world has become better, and the universe stays in balance.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Pocket Gets Caught Up on Her Pee Mail


Warm weather has finally arrived in our little corner of the world.  We had a glorious garden day on Monday. All the flower beds have been cleaned and new buds are coming up every day.  The grass is green, thick, and tickles our paws. St. Anthony is out of the shed and back watching over our blossoms.

We are enjoying the longer walks spring brings. We bark a loud hello to all our elderly neighbors who love to joke with us by saying “Oh God, not those two, loud little dogs again.”  Longer walks mean going to areas we have not explored in months and getting caught up on pee-mail we have missed. Mr. Lancaster has been sneaking in Mrs. Smithers while his wife is at work, according to his dog Pepper.  That Mr. Lancaster is a scamp.

Here are some of the updates I left for my friends via my pee-mail.

The warmer weather has allowed my parents to turn on their new HVAC unit.  Three years ago they had another new unit installed with a five-year warranty.  After two years it no longer worked. The installer would not honor the warranty, my parents had to sue, we went through the entire summer with only two window units, until October when my parents won their court case and had a different contractor put in a new unit.  It ran for a day and froze up on Friday.

This was a very frustrating day for my parents.  My Dad called the new installer who said he could not look at the new unit for a week.  My Dad went to print out the warranty off the computer and the printer would not work. He had opened the porch windows and the front door to get air in the house.  We went out on the porch to bark at old people. Our Mommy told us to come in the house and she slammed the door shut. Daddy said he had it open to let the aforementioned air in the house.  Mommy went to open it and the door wouldn’t budge. With everything else that had happened my parents thought it was par for the course that the door was stuck. Daddy went out the back, came around the house and tried to shove open the door but it wouldn’t budge. 

 He stood back to run into the door and knock it down. That is when Mommy realized that when she has shut it the deadbolt had moved and locked. She turned it, opened the door, and Daddy stumbled over the threshold and fell into the house. My parents are so funny.  

I do miss the cold air at bedtime.  My snuggle spot is at Daddy’s waist.  I curl up in a ball. He puts a hand on me and we fall into a blissful sleep.  But now I get hot under there quickly and end up sleeping on top of the covers. Such are the sacrifices we make for good garden days.

One day last week Dad had what is called a colonoscopy.  He spent lots of time in the bathroom. I didn’t mind during the day but he got out of bed at night and was in the bathroom for an hour.  It was not only rude because I could not snuggle with him, and River was hogging mom, but there were a lot of loud, unpleasant noises coming out of the bathroom.  It kept me awake. He really should have used the front bathroom. He finally got in bed and I snuggled with him but every hour he would get out of bed and go to the bathroom again.  I found the entire procedure very disturbing. I asked Mommy why he was doing it and she said it was because they were going to stick something up his rectum and I thought “wrecked him it will probably kill him.”  (Bazinga.)

That is my pee report for the week.   Happy sniffing everyone.


Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Beat This Caption



The good news is that Henry lived all his nine lives to the fullest.  The bad news was he had to live his seventh as a complete imbecile

Monday, May 7, 2018

Monday Question

How in tune are you with your parents' emotions?  Can you tell when they are upset?

Pocket:  I am very in tune with my parents.  If they get the least bit upset, even if they don't show it at all, I get down and go into my cat house.

River:  I'm aware but I just chill and wait for the moment to pass.

Sunday, May 6, 2018

Hannah Banana is our May 6, 2018 Pup of the Week


This week tear filled clouds opened up and poured down rain on us as Hannah Banana the GSD, our longtime friend, one of the bedrocks of Doggyspace, lifelong companion and heart dog to her mom Aunt Connie, and giant of the dog world, crossed the River of Live via Rainbow Bridge and became immortal.

There was a time when it seemed every dog on social media knew Hannah Banana.  She was strong, courageous, intelligent, loyal and focused and those attributes are shown through as our humans read the posts her mother helped her compose and saw pictures of her brilliant face on their timelines   German Shepherd owners rarely get another breed after owning a GSD and Hannah was the personification of why.

Hannah grew older, as we all do.  Dogs are only born with so many heartbeats, and despite her and her mom’s best efforts, Hannah’s expired.  Everyone on the mortal side knew when she had passed. It was as if something big had been ripped from the world.  I think all the souls on that side would agree nothing will be the same without Hannah
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We could feel the sorrow in Hannah’s heart when she crossed over Rainbow Bridge.  But she is a German Shepherd, and she put on a brave face for us. I asked her if she remembered our old Doggyspace days and for the first time since her passing she smiled and nodded.  I told her I had something to show her.

We came to a big stone wall with a gate attached to it  Above that was a sign the read “Doggyspace.”

“This is what we dreamed of,” I told her.  “We are together again.” We entered the gates and were met by Apollo who was teaching the unrescued dog lessons about humans.  Soon they would be placed with a human angel and know the love they never felt on the mortal side.

We went by Tommy Tunes’ popcorn castle, Hattie’s Mae’s House of Fashion, Willie’s swimming hole, Brooklyn’s tennis ball company, Otis Campbell’s ice cream shoppe, Scooby’s bakery, Leo’s tuxedo studio and dozens of other businesses and homes built by our angel friends.

“Foley,” Hannah said as she looked around and saw all her old friends, “you all did it.  You made Doggyspace into a real world.” I told her it was not us, but believing parents, who thought their dogs were the greatest beings on Earth and wanted to share their story and their love, like Miss Connie, a parental trailblazer in the dog social media.

Hannah Banana helped build a site based on love, kindness, prayers, and understanding.  Ten years later dogs share their stories and pictures on social media and bring all those attributes to a cold and sometimes cruel world.  Dedicated parents like Miss Connie and their loving, dedicated dogs make the world a better place.

Hopefully knowing Hannah is back home at Doggyspace will ease her suffering.

Friday, May 4, 2018

A Visit With Lakia the First Dog in Space



There are no countries at Rainbow Bridge.  Once we cross over we all belong to the same land.  It is harder for humans to adjust to this than dogs.  We never identify ourselves with a specific country

This week I decided to visit a famous Russian dog.  Her name is Laika and she is known for being the first living creature in space.

She lives high up on a mountain, fitting for a dog who touched the stars.  In 1957, at the age of three, she was selected (although she claims she volunteered) to be the first animal in space. “I was very proud,” Lakia told me soon after she allowed me into her cabin and poured me a strong drink of vodka.

“It was an honor.  I was the greatest dog in all of the Soviet Union.  I was cheered wherever I went. Then came the day to blast off.  I was put in a vessel on top of the rocket. Everyone told me I was a good dog.  I got a pat on the head. ‘Goodbye Lakia, you have been a good dog,’ my handler said.

“I licked him and then, with my eyes, asked why he was acting like we would not see one another again.  He told me that they knew how to shoot me into space but had no idea how to have me safely reenter the atmosphere.  That was an important fact to leave out. Before I could convey that I was no longer down with the plan the rocket took off.

“I will tell you, it is beautiful up there,” Lakia continued.  “You can see all the continents, and the stars are spectacular.  But then it started to get very hot. I looked out the window expecting to see Delta written on the side of the craft.   It kept getting hotter and hotter until I splashed down here.”

I said I was happy to learn she didn’t suffer and congratulated her to be the first beating heart in space.  She took a long drink of vodka. “Of course, the humans take all the credit now. I am barely a footnote. But we dogs know what we have done and that is enough for me.  I just wish the move was called the Ruff Stuff and not with Right Stuff.

“That is why I live up here in the mountains,” she said.  “I have never trusted a human again. I tried to talk her into coming to meet my human friends but she refused. “They put me on top of a rocket and shot me into space to die. I am better alone.”  I finished my drink thanked her, and left.

I went back to my Bridge village and I talked to Jackie Pool, Vicki Tankersley, Gina Busch and other dog moms who live with us.  The next day they went with me to visit Lakia again. Lakia was not welcoming at first but after a half hour of talking with the moms Lakia was getting belly rubs, kisses, and happily wagging her tail.  She had forgiven humanity.

Since that day Lakia is coming down to see the humans more often.  I think she will always be independent but like so many rescue dogs she is learning to love and trust humans again.

To the moon and back.

Thursday, May 3, 2018

River Song and the Right to Smell LIke a Dog



I like to smell like a dog.  I want to have the scent of outdoors deep in my hair:  A combination of the grass I playfully roll in, the dirt I walk through and the smell on my whiskers from whatever I stuck my nose in.  

My Dad likes that smell.  When I am sitting with him, or we are lying in bed, and he gets a whiff of me in my natural state he finds it comforting.

Mommy does not appreciate it.  She thinks that we should smell like shampoos and conditioners that come in bottles.  She wants to wipe away the natural scents and replace it with something artificial like strawberries.

Pocket is not any help.  As much as she likes her walks she prefers the artificial fruit smell too.  Sometimes I think she is barely a dog.

It seems like as soon as I get the perfect amount of outside scent on me, Mommy decides it is bath time.  I think her olfactory settings are malfunctioning. She doesn’t know a good smell when she whiffs it. Like clockwork, when I smell my best, the tub faucet is turned on.

I must confess.  When it comes to baths, I like to watch.  Pocket is the first one in the tub. It would be wise for me to find something to hide under where Mommy couldn’t reach me.  But instead, I am drawn to the tub where a wet, scrawny Pocket is lathered, rinsed, and lathered again. I am addicted to Yorkies getting a bath.  That is why I have to keep clearing my Internet browser history.

I stay to watch Pocket quickly get dried, then see her hurry into the living room to run off the wet.  I realize I am trapped between the wall and the toilet. I spin around, seeking my only means of escape, putting my head up my butt, but fail.  I am lifted, plopped in the tub, and my natural earthy scent is washed away replaced by something in a bottle.

Then comes my favorite part of the wretched endeavor.  The drying off. I get Mommy’s sweet hands rubbing me, the warmth of the towel, and I think it is worth it, and then I get a whiff of my strawberry scent, and I realize all the rubbing in the world cannot make up for that.  

Once I am dry, I stand by the door to signal I have to pee.  I don’t really, although I do a perfect fake pee, I just need to get back outside and begin to get the clean smell off of me and return to my correct state of an earthy smelling dog.