Foley Monster and Pocket's Blog

Ask Aunt Foley January 27, 2012 Edition

2012-01-27T18:09:00.001-05:00

Dear Aunt Foley: I smelled French Fries and found the French Fry bag on the floor. I stuck my head in as far as it could go but I couldn’t find no French Fries, and I couldn’t find my way out of the bag. How do I stop this from happening again and where are the French Fries?
Lou ee

Dear Aunt Foley: I got a hankering for some pickles, and I stuck my head in a jar, and I got it stuck in there. I am just a young pup. I guess I shouldn’t have done it. Any suggestions on how to not get my head stuck in a can?
Cinnamon

Dear Lou ee and Cinnamon: I put these questions together because they cover the same subject: Young dogs sticking their heads where they don’t belong. I know the smell of fries (and pickles?) can be overwhelming but you have to learn how to resist. This, of course, is another trick of those humans who want to distract us from taking care of our parents.

Dear Aunt Foley: My friend Pez’s mother sent me a box of liver treats. Mommy left the box where I could get at it. Mommy went out for the day and left me and my kitty home alone. Those liver treats smelled so good I couldn’t resist them. I opened the box and kitty and I feasted on those treats. When Mommy got home I thought Mommy would be happy with us for being self-sufficent but instead she was mad for eating the treats without permission. Was I wrong?
Apple

Dear Apple: Oh this is one of the things humans do. They have trust issues. They leave food lying around to see if they can trust us. Of course they can trust us. We totally will leave the treats alone because we are completely trust worthy. Except as the treats sit there we begin to realize: The treats were put there because they haven’t learned to trust us after all we have done Who are they to mistrust us after all we have done for them? So we eat them, not because we aren’t trustworthy, but to teach them a lesson to don’t leave treats out to test us. So no Apple, you’re not wrong. That kittie though, totally wrong.

Dear Aunt Foley: I was looking at a picture of my dear friend Luca lying on his back and then I went into the bedroom, and I hopped up on the bed, and laid on my back, and looked at the mirrored ceiling my Mom has (don’t ask) and I noticed that Luca has things that I don’t have. I need to know what Luca has that I don’t have and why does he have them and I don’t?
Smoochy

Dear Smoochy: I have some very disturbing news for you. When you were a young pup, before you really knew what was happening, your mother cut your nuts off. Luca still has his nuts. But he is from Argentina. When he went to the vet he asked for an Argentinian. I believe what you got is called the Brazilian. You are a victim of the wrong South American country. I had a similar thing happen to my forlorn ovaries. Mommy says it was for our own good but I think they feel guilty about it and that’s why they spend so much time cleaning up our crap

Dear Aunt Foley: I am part of Secret Paws on DS. I have been asked to tell my Secret Paw what they need to know about me. I don’t know what I would say. What would you say?
Sushi

Dear Sushi: Well, I would first say that Pocket likes treats and to play with balls. We also are big fans of anything we can wear. We got a nice scarf and sweater from Smoochy last year and plenty of treats. But or me, as a successful lawyer, I have found that there is nothing better than cold hard cash. She put some bills in a manila envelope and mail it to Foley Monster. The bigger the bills the better. So take my advice Sushi, nothing gets the job done like cash.

Attorney Foley Monster's and Professor Pocket's Full Proof Way to Beat a Doggy DNA Test

2012-01-24T21:50:00.003-05:00

It has come to my attention that some of your higher end condo associations have asked for a stool sample from all dogs who move into their units. They get a DNA sample from the poo, and if they find poo on their precious lawns, they send a sample of it to the lab to identify the offending pooch.

This is an attack on our inalienable right to poo. Also why is it our DNA that is being brought into question? When we are born we are just as happy to poo in the house like everyone else. But we are brought outside, against our will, to poo, and if the Lord meant for us to pick it up, he would have given us op-possible thumbs. So we have to rely on our silly, forgetful humans to clean it up, and half the time they have left the bag or scooper behind, and do likewise with our poo, leading to us having to submit to DNA testing, a violation of our personal freedom. Why don’t they get DNA testing from the humans? They must shed a hair or two fleeing the poo.

But instead it is on us, our precious bodily fluids to be kept on file and to be used for who know what purposes. So I turned to Professor Pocket and asked her what we could so to help our dog friends who could be suffering such an indignity. She spent a week in her lab and I will now let her explain her latest invention: The Anus Alias.

Hello. I am Professor Pocket Dog. Are you facing a loss of privacy because a power hungry condo board wants to have your DNA on file?. Then I have the solution for you. It is the Anus Alias. If you order an Anus Alias you will get a stool sample from a purebred dog who is not on any medications and has been thoroughly dewormed. You will get our patented Anus Alias packaging containing the clean stools, the packaging to go on your belly, and hair extensions in your color to cover the apparatus. As you know all dog DNA specialists want you to poo in front of them, so this is you’re only way to guarantee the privacy of your bodily functions.

How does it work? Simple. You are going to need a parent to buckle the Anal Anus around your waist making sure the pouch is full. Then drape the hair over you back to cover the pouch. Finally have someone snap to anal alias into place under your tail. When you go into the poo room try to walk with your tail down to cover the anal anus. Of course anyone who goes into a lab room to involuntarily surrender their poo with their tail up is one sick puppy.

Now, squat as you usually do. This will force to poo from the pouch under your stomach and up the tub and then out of your alias anus. They will gather the poo, bag and tag it, test it and then assign the DNA to you. From that point on you have the freedom to poo where ever you like and the evidence cannot be traced back to you.

Also, from that point forward, the anal alias is yours to keep. Although I would not use it for another DNA testing without a thorough cleaning, you can have fun at parties. Imagine the laughs that will erupt when someone says ‘oh my gosh, Leo just pooped a turtle.’

So, get yourself an anal alias before you anus makes you have to obtain an alias.

Pokey and Maggie are our January 22, 2012 Pups of the Week

2012-01-22T21:53:00.002-05:00

We have chosen to honor our wonderful friends Pokey and Maggie not for their many achievements in advancing the cause of dogs, but to recognize their wonderful Mom, Auntie Laura Lunn, whom fate has once again struck down with a non life threatening but still big pain in the ass injury.

Aunt Laura does not let people know of the obstacles she has faced in her lie, obstacles that would make a lesser Mommy hide in their home. But she is the most adventurous Mom I know. And she has the perfect attitude for a dog’s Mom to have. When we arrived for our visit she made us feel at home and told us that is was a dog’s house. It is awful nice of Pokey and Maggie to let her sleep inside.

As many of you know, two summers ago, Aunt Laura had a terrible tragedy happen at home when a dog she had recently adopted, that had undisclosed anger issues, attacked her while she was petting him. The poor dog, who did not know what it was doing, ripped off most of Aunt Laura’s muscle on her forearm. She left that aggressive dog at home, and while bleeding a great deal, scooped up Pokey, made sure he had a safe place with a friend and drove herself to the hospital. What followed was months of painful operations and home confinement.

Despite having a bad experience adopting a dog Aunt Laura did not turn her backs on those pups who have not found their humans yet. First she adopted Maggie and except for a few things chewed up that shouldn’t have been, a few holes in the lawn, and one daring but ill advised prison break, she, Auntie Laura and Pokey have gone together like peas and carrots, and, um, more carrots.

And not only did she adopt another dog but she became an advocate for dogs who haven’t found their parents yet. Every week it seems like she is taking time to drive dogs searching for their forever humans for one point to the other, like a conductor on the underground puppy railroad.

But she injured her foot, and for us dogs in New England Aunt Linda hurting her foot is like Rob Gronkowski hurting his foot. Without Aunt Linda the dog transporting machine just don’t work.

For such a wonderful woman, she has had more than her share of problems, but she never lets it get her down. She always has pleasant comments and good advice for everyone, although it is rumored that she is a bit of a shark at Friends With Words. Her play of Zat got Alec Baldwin thrown off a plane.

Aunt Laura is an inspiration to dog parents everywhere. If they could all handle their pups’ digressions, their pups’ personality quirks, their pups’ great escapes, as well as their own medical problems with a smile and nary a complaint then they will surely be a woman my pup!

Get well soon Aunt Laura. We love you.

A gift from the very special Shiloh the Star Gazer

2012-01-21T21:06:00.002-05:00

Thursday we went to the mailbox and there was a present addressed to my parents but it was from Shiloh the Stargazer. We thought it was something for us because Shiloh was our Secret Bub Receiver this year. We had so much fun buying stuff for her because she is so wonderful.

We hurried home and Daddy opened the box. Unfortunately it was not something for us, but in a way it was. It was a lovely key box with Shiloh’s picture on it. It looks like this.

Now you might ask why this helps us. Because when we go for our walks Daddy can never find his keys or wallet. We have to stand around with our legs crossed while he storms around the house cursing and looking for his keys. Now he knows where his keys are so there is no leg crossing for us, only paw crossing when we say we don’t know who peed under the table.

When Mommy saw the gift she told Daddt he should do something like this for Smoochy who was our secret bub. Daddy said he had no nowhere near the skills that Shiloh’s Dad had but none of us wanted to hear it. We banished him to the wood shed.

Well, things did not go well. After four hours all Daddy could make was a log. Mommy got so mad she burned it.

So sorry Smoochy, no new key box for you, Daddy isn’t as good as Shiloh’s Dad at making things.

But to you Shiloh the Star Gazer and your parents Mommy, Daddy, and us two little Yorkies want you to know how much your gift touched us. Thank you so much and it was more than a pleasure being your Secret Bub.

The Vets of our Lives

2012-01-19T22:30:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday we went for our annual vet visit. I know you are all concerned with the results so let me tell you upfront we are both fine. We call this our annual trip to the vet, but it’s like saying our annual trip to the Super Bowl, because our vet is never in the same place from year to year.

The first vet I went to was in Norton MA. He wasn’t a bad vet. But his waiting room was cramped and I went there with Blake, and Blake did not like the vet at all. She was a terrible panter and shaker. And the vet was always running late. Blake was ill, and the trip alone got her so worked up, that the next year we went to a new vet,

This vets was in Raynham. They seemed like the perfect vet. There was a large waiting room, they were very good when Blake was transitioning to the Bridge and very comforting when she finally passed over in Mommy’s arms in one of the examining rooms. We were all very happy there, then my new brother, Jax, began crying out in pain. Mommy took him to Raynham. There was a new vet there. He said that Jax had a shoulder strain. Mommy said she doubted it was a shoulder strain. To this day she is still mad at herself for not getting a second opinion. The vet gave Jax some medicine for the pain. A week later Jax took a serious turn for the worse. He couldn’t move without crying, he had bloodshot eyes, he was in horrible pain. Daddy called the vet who refused to see him saying Jax just needed another prescription. Mommy and Daddy took Jax to the the emergency vet in Bridgewater. They told Mommy and Daddy there was nothing they could do and Jax was put down. When Daddy got home there was a message from the vet in Raynham giving results for a dog that wasn’t even Jax. Oh how Daddy wishes he saved that message. Mommy, Daddy, and I sued in small claims court, we won, but lost the appeal because the vet spent thousands of dollars on “expert” witnesses. Anyway, once a vet kills your dog, you sue him, win, then lose, you can’t go back.

So then the hospital in Bridgewater became our vet. They might have killed my sister Copper. We can’t prove it. Copper got her rabies shot and it caused a large tumor to grow in her leg. They operated on her and took it out but three months later she passed away in her sleep. They said her little heart gave out but could it have been something that entered her blood stream from the shot and traveled to her heart? We don’t know. Then we took in little Skye. The poor dog never breathed a healthy breath in her six month life. A week of that was spent at the Bridgewater hospital where they lost her. Oh not lost her like she went to the Bridge. They just didn’t know where she was. It took them a couple of hours to call us back telling us they found her and how she was. They sent her home but she couldn’t walk in a straight line. We took her back to the hospital but since they had so many different vets we got who hadn’t seen her yet and wanted to run the same tests that kept coming back inconclusive. We had to fight our way out of their with her.

A woman Daddy works with told him of a very nice vet in Middleboro. They took Skye there. Skye didn’t come home. But they were grateful to the vet because he told them the truth. There were all sorts of tests, operations, and procedures he could do, costing thousands of dollars, and at the end of the day, after much suffering, chances were very high Skye would die anyway. He helped send little Skye to the Bridge last night.

He was a good vet, but a little old fashioned. He liked giving shots, lots of shots, even when we didn’t want them. And he was very expensive. And he was far away. And old. He started giving some of his practice time to a younger doctor who we didn’t trust as much. My Daddy’s cousin told him of a vet he went to right down the road from where we were living. We made as appointment and were very happy with this vet. And he didn’t kill any of us.

But he too was older and phasing out of his practice. He had another vet helping him and we did not like him at all. He used to hold us by our front legs and let us hang to look us over. It took his and his assistant four time to weight Pocket getting different weights each time which is remarkable given that she weighs five pounds. Then he became insulting to us. He told us we had bad breath, said we had bad teeth, he was the worst first date ever. Most of all he stressed that I had to have my teeth cleaned immediately. If not it could lead to premature death and peace without honor. Mommy didn’t want me to get even light anesthesia but it was stressed to her the importance of having my teeth cleaned. He had me put on a list to get my teeth cleaned immediately. This was in January of 2011. They called in November 2011. By this time we decided not to get the teeth done, and to find a new vet.

We found one is Swansea, that my cousin Bailey goes to, which was good news, because we were running out of towns. We rode there in style in our new car seats. We got there and we found a nice big waiting room. Of course everyone came over to tell us how cute we were, again, being beautiful is work. We got brought in the room, weighed, and then the doctor came in.

I was up first. He checked out my teeth, and, while they aren’t pearly white, he said if we continued using some gel on them they should be fine. He found everything about me perfect and Pocket the same and it is one of the best vet experiences we’ve had. And we’re quite confident he won’t kill either one of us.

Biskit is our January 14, 2012 Pup of the Week

2012-01-15T20:45:00.000-05:00

There have been so many tributes written about our friend Bikset, all of them deserving, that you might question why another is needed. It’s because we all feel the need to do something to honor Bisket, and to try to do something to heal his Mom’s broken heart, by conveying how much Bisket touched our lives, through the written word.

I think we all know of Bisket’s illness and subsequent trip to the Bridge. It began around Halloween and lasted three months. So quick. Us dogs can go from healthy to the Bridge in such a short time. It’s like you’re standing on a mountain top, and you slip a little, and then you keep falling, faster and further, until you hit the bottom and break apart.

I don’t need to recount what has justifiably been written a hundred times, Bisket’s unbreakable loyalty, his love for life and his friends, the joy and peace he brought to his parents, his kindness, his, for most of us, through the written word, becoming parts of all our families, and how his passing became like one of our own dogs passing.

I would like to write from the perspective of a pup. You see, when we are sent to Earth, we are given an assignment, find our human(s) and give them every last measure of our devotion, and, when we are done, to return to heaven and wait at the Bridge. Sadly some pups never find their humans, but the lucky ones, like me, and Bisket, do.

But in our final days we do ask ourselves, did we do enough, did we give that last true measure of devotion. Bisket’s Mom Gretchen and his Dad Matt left no doubt in his mind that he had given them everything he had when they showed him how much he was loved. Three nights before his scheduled surgery, when his parents were accepting that chance of good news was slight, Bisket and his Mom slept on the floor together because she was afraid he would not make it through the night, he had been drooling and smacking his lips. Neither slept much, and their cat Tien sat watching them all night (never good to have a kitty stare at you) but Bisket made it. Having your Mom stay up with you all night, especially on a cold uncomfortable floor, means you did it, if she is willing to do that for you, you’ve done more than your share for her.

In the days leading up to the vet’s decision Bsket let his Mom know it was time, by not eating, by sleeping, by not being able to go outside. He knew his Mom would do what he needed most, even though it would crush the heart he had protected for so long, he knew that she would let him go.

The night before the trip to the vet his Mom and Dad spent the night up with him, holding him, telling him how much he had done for them, letting hi, know his work here was done. Before they left they gave his brother Slater a chance to sniff him goodbye and or Tien to give him a kiss on the nose.

The vet told them what they already knew. There was nothing they could do. Bisket’s Mom and Dad were there to say goodbye. He was put on a fleecy through, a nice touch by the given the drugs, and awoke at the Bridge. And in their final act of devotion they brought him back home, to give him a forever resting place in the yard.

As a dog I would like to say to Bisket’s parent Miss Gretchen and Mr. Matt that they repaid all the love to Bisket he gave them. He went to the Bridge knowing he had done his job. I thank the two of you for that. You are great dog parents. if only there were as many great dog parents as there were great dogs then so many great dogs wouldn’t be suffering tonight.

The Case of the Ill Dumped Dump

2012-01-13T20:12:00.002-05:00

Two days before Christmas Mommy and Daddy traveled to Mommy’s nephew Andrew’s and his wife’s Joyce’s house for a party they referred to Christmas Adam, because Andrew has a brother named Adam, and Adam comes before Eve. Studies show no one in the animal kingdom cares..

The party went on late into the night, according to the bursting clocks in both my bladder and Pocket’s. The next morning Daddy asked me for a consult.

This Andrew, who is a lawyer like me, needed advice in the specialty of dog law. He lives near a park where people walk their dogs. He doesn’t own a dog of his own, but he’s young, and we will forgive him for that. His beef is with dog owners in his neighborhood. Once a week he puts his trash out to be picked up. While he and his bride are at work the trash man comes and removes his trash, leaving his barrel on the sidewalk in front of his home. Before he can get home to retrieve his barrel someone walking back from the park disposes of their dog droppings in his barrel, his barrel of no fun.

Well, I was a little annoyed, because it was Christmas Eve, but once Daddy agreed to pay kibble and a half I cracked the books. The Massachusetts Pooper Scooper law (humans love laws that rhyme) states that the owner of the animal must dispose of the refuse in a proper receptacle. Twenty minutes later I found out what refuse meant and spent the next 20 minutes cursing humans for using fancy words for ordinary pooh.

Now for my human lawyer client’s issue. The humans who are taking their dogs for a walk are properly scooping their pooping. Their next task is to find a proper receptacle for the pooping. Unfortunately your open trash can does fit the term “proper receptacle.” In short you are up poops creek without a barrel.

You could pursue a civil case against the dump dumper but first you would need proof of who the poo belongs to. You couldt hide in the barrel, and, when the poo is dropped into the receptacle, pop out and yell “I love trash,” then inform the dumper that they are trespassing by poo and you reserve the right to file a civil action. Now there are downsides to this. When you pop out of the trash you don’t know who you’re coming out to, and if it’s an angry pitbull you’re on your own. And you do risk being correctly known to your neighbors as a poopy head,

You could also offer, every day, at the park, to give the dogs a free brush. After they brush you put a description on the dog and one of the hairs in a baggie. When the dump is dumped you send the hair and the dump to the lab, and when you get the tests back, you can identify, through DNA, the pooper, then pop up and yell Ja’accuse.

But even if you do this, if you bring the petty pooper into civil court, according to my research, ironically, the Judges ruling will be the same as the question that has launched you on this judicial journey: “Who give a sh*t?”

Driving Miss Pocket (and Aunt Foley too)

2012-01-12T16:00:00.000-05:00

After years of begging and pleading I have finally received what I have asked for my whole life. No, not a live, pre-plucked chicken, but my own seat for the car.

It is a vision of beauty. It is a little box with a strap that hooks to the head rest in the back seat. It has Sherpa on the inside which is very nice to lie upon and keeps my butt warm. And it is high in the air so I can see out the front window, the back, and the sides too. It is like the Pope mobile.

I ride in it like a Queen, looking out the window and nodding to my peeps. I can also look out the front window and confirm what Mommy has said for years: Daddy is a terrible driver.

I got mine on a Friday. When we went to the spa on Saturday it was installed for me. Pocket didn’t have one yet (there was only one at the store) so she sat on Mommy’s lap, or more accurately, squirmed on Mommy’s lap.

After our spa treatment there was now a seat for Pocket too, just as high, but, in my opinion, not as comfortable. Daddy put us in our seats, hooked us in, and we headed for home.

Then Pocket jumped out. She didn’t get far. She ended up hanging off the seat like a baby strapped to a Mom’s torso (albeit with one with a single boxy boob.) TDaddy had to pull over and put Pocket back in her seat. Daddy put her back in the seat. He tightened the strap to keep her from jumping out and we started of again.

And silly Pocket jumped out again. Bouncing off the side of the seat like a parachutist stuck in a tree. I had no patience with her. Does the Pope jump out of the Pope mobile? Does Batman jump out of the Bat mobile? No, they know a good thing when they see it but there’s Pocket swinging like an old woman’s pantaloons on the clothes line during a wind storm.

Daddy parked the car again. He tried to shorten strap on the seat but regardless of what he did it got longer. He put Pocket back inside and told her to stay. Pocket, she no knows what that word means. But she also doesn’t like hanging by a strap in a moving vehicle. So she stayed put, except for an occasional tremble.

Now Daddy says if he is taking Mommy somewhere but not going in with her, then we can go with him, and have more peeps tell us how cute we are. I am working on getting Pocket to sit in her seat and enjoy the ride, but she’s never happy unless she is in contact with a human so it might take her awhile to just sit down and enjoy her ride.

And, for more good news, we got new harnesses.

These are so nice. The front of them is soft and looks like a bandanna. The straps are thick so they hang off of us comfortably but we can’t slip out of them. Even though I am slightly smaller than Pocket I had a medium while she has a small. I am a medium because I have girth. I am not sure what girth is but I keep getting e-mails from a former DS member’s Mom which says that girth is quite important, and there are pills to enhance girth, so I am quite proud of my girth. I am positively girthy.

So Pocket and I are riding into 2012, styling and profiling. Catch us if you can.

Apollo, Ace, Napa, Shakira and Czar are our January 8, 2012 pups of the week

2012-01-08T22:17:00.003-05:00

I know I spend a lot of blog space complaining about things in my little life. But occasionally I hear from a long absent pal and I realize I have very little to complain about.

I had not heard from my good friend Apollo Schulz in awhile, which is not an unusual situation, since we do tend to lose touch with our Bridge friends. All we want from these Angels is to watch over and protect their families and boy does Apollo have work to do now.

The suit of skin, bones and fur he wore here are buried under a rose bush in his Mom’s yard, and sometimes, when she is feeling blue, she goes there, to sit and talk to Apollo.

She talk about the baby of the family Czar who Apollo never met in this realm. Czar has been a terrific pup, but has a bit of the Foley in him. He is stubborn as a suit. But that keeps his Mom busy and her mind off of other more pressing things.

They talk about Napa. The last time I wrote about this pack was about him He had been attacked and badly injured at a dog park by malmannered dogs. Napa is better, except for a limp, and he has become Apollo’s Mom constant companion like Apollo had been.

Apollo and his Mom talk about what a good alpha dog Shakia has become. She is the protector of the family. She has become a Daddy dog as some girls do.

And they talk about the baby who was closest to Apollo, his little brother Ace who, at 12, is slowing down and likes lying in the sunshine which is a lot like me.

But the most important thing they talk about is there Mom’s health. Some of you may remember she has asthma, but now she has a new, and more serious problem. Apollo’s Mom had undergone a kidney transplant on January 5, with a kidney donated by her son. I know I don’t have to ask but to help Apollo’s Mom and their wonderful pack we are going to have to do some major praying, generate a lot of positive thoughts, and get the Bridge Angels like Apollo to keep an eye out or her.

So let’s start praying so Apollo’s Mom can return to Shakira, Ace, Napa and Czar and be with them for a good long time.

Don’t worry Apollo, your friends are with you.

Foley's Yak Attack

2012-01-06T22:43:00.000-05:00

Sometime over the Christmas holidays I got a bad case of the bed yaks. I didn’t write about it because at Christmas there is a lot of other tunes to sing, and Hollywood is releasing their Oscar material, so I decided to wait until after the New Year when the spotlight can be shining where it belongs, on me.

As I was saying one night we were all snuggled in our bed. I was under the covers licking my paws ignoring my parents who were talking about The Bridge knows what when I felt food rising up from my stomach. I came out from under the covers took two steps then upchucked all over the blanket. Now this is a huge no no. You do not desecrate the bed. That is the number two rule of the bed. The number one rule is don’t talk about the bed.

I was picked up by Mommy and Daddy pulled the blanket off the bed and took it to the laundry room. Mommy held me and asked “are you all right?”

Now let me back up and explain that when Daddy went to the grocer they were out of treats. and he bought a different type of treats. They tasted like cardboard. Now sure. I ate them. I’m a dog. I eat poo. There isn’t much I turn down. But the cardboard made me sick which made me have the yaks.

If a human has another human over for dinner, they eat the shrimp scamp; and they run into the bathroom and upchuck it all, does the host run in the bathroom, take their head in their hands and ask “Are you all right?” The answer is “Hey lady I just upchucked all over your floor, you tell me.”

Daddy came back with the only other queen sized blanket in the house (which is the only one I will sleep under.) I hacked up some more of those horrible treats on the floor and Mommy cleaned it. They put a new blanket on the bed and put me on it. Now, if a human has just womited twice in five minutes, would you lay them down upon your only blanket? Make them comfy in your bed? Well, if the bipeds are going to be stupid I am going to let nature take it’s course.

I went back under the new blanket, licked my paw, felt the bad biscuit coming back up and made it three steps before I womited on the only clean blanket. Mommy made a tisking sound. Daddy pulled up the blanket and brought that to wash too. Then he panicked. He kept rubbing my head and asking me what was wrong. Hey look buddy, if you did this to a female dinner guest it would be sexual harassment. so watch it.

Then Daddy got two smaller blankets and put them on the bed, and then put towels over them in case I yakked again, so there we were, in bed with a crazy quilt of blankets over us, sleeping like hobos. Pocket, who has sense, didn’t want to be anywhere near me and sat on Daddy’s chest. After about five minutes I felt more of the bad cookies coming up. This time I jumped off the bed before I yakked.

This is when Daddy had the great brain storm of taking me outside. Now, if you have a human in your house who has yakked a half dozen times do you put a rope around their neck and walk them up and down the street in the dark and the cold?

If you do you are going to be taken to the cukoo house or be charged with cruelty to womiters. Strangely enough, after the work, I felt fine, and we all snuggled together under our make shift blankets like the homeless on a freight train. Once my sick stomach was cleaned out I was fine. Some time during the night one of the Bridge angels must have come to Mommy or Daddy and informed them it was the cheap treats. Mommy threw them out in the morning and forbid Daddy to buy them again.

The point of this blog is for humans to treat us dogs like human friends. Don’t assume we only have one yak in us, and start looking for the reason the the most likely point, crappy treats.

And, if you do have a yakky human, put a rope around their neck and take them for a walk. Worked for me.

January 1, 2012 Pups of the Week - In Memorium

2012-01-01T21:43:00.000-05:00

Baron aka Bear:

The first friend we lost this year was one of our biggest and most kind hearted. He was our Bear Bear. He had fought so hard to stay with his Mom. But his temperature shot up to 104 and his breathing became labored. He had pneumonia which is a very scary diagnosis for an older dog. He got some medicine but he did not improve and he went to the bridge. Baron was a fiercely loyal GSD. He was his Mom’s heart dog. Loved and respected by those who knew him both on line and in real life his passing to Bridge was felt by all those who loved him. There will be plenty of Bears in the future, but none as powerful, proud, beautiful, and loyal than Bear Bear.

Jackie Pool

The dog community lost a giant when Jackie Pool succumbed to cancer on February 13, 2011. A warrior who fought to free dogs from puppy mills, who fought to find them homes, she was a model for dog lovers everywhere. The year before she passed her pup Saffron had to fight for his life and Jackie did everything in her power, spent many sleepless nights, with her sweet boy, so he survived. She was a fountain of information about dog health and helped anyone who had a question. A beautiful woman and a tremondous spirit her name, and the kindness she showed dogs, will live forever.

Bo

We are all Mama’s dogs but occasionally there is a Daddy’s dog and Bo was the ultimate Daddy dog. He was with his Daddy before he met his future wife and her pack. I don’t think there is a stronger bond than that between a dog and a man who live alone. When Bo had growths on his body and his breathing suddenly became labored his parents prayed for the best, but the worst happened, and happened very quickly, leaving them in shock. But just before he passed Bo brought his family his final gift, a new dog, Nikki, a stray who somehow wanded into their lives. Bo left his family with a great gift, and a wonderful new friend.

The Malatesta Six

If there was a top story in the online world occupied by dogs and their families it was the tragic death of the Malatesta Six. By name Chiwennie, Charlie Bear, Yacotaco, Gravy, Walker and Paula Malatesta’s heart dog, Brandon, they, while Paula lay in thie hospital, were, without her knowledge, taken to and pound, and put to sleep. While no good can ever come of such a tragedy, all we can do is try to understand want happened, and try to insure it never happens again. The online dog community showed, when something occurs that touches the better angels of our nature, just what a powerful group we can be, and how we can reach down to someone who is truly in the bowls of hell, and give them hope once again. And it made many of us realize that we must have provision in our wills, or proxies filed with lawyers, to protect these sweet pups if we are incapcatated. While we can never make sense of what happened, we can deal with it sensibly, and try to make a better world.

Ruger Ru

We started the Tanner Brigade on the morning after Tanner died. A few months later Tanner’s Mom bought a new dog, Ruger Ru, and Ruger was the symbol of a new beginning for every member. We were with him every step as he grew from a minature version of Tanner into a big, couch eating, hole digging, squirrel chasing, big ball of fun. It was a shock when we learned that Ruger too sick suddenly, and then the next day he was gone. To lose any dog is horrible, to lose one when he is still just a baby, is unbearable. Our hearts are still broken.

Snicker Doodle

A beautiful little dog down in Arizona who lived to be 16, Snicker suffered through the long hot summer with breathing problems and heat stroke. There were many a night his Mom sat up with him trying to cool him off. Then, with the weather finally cooled, in one of the cruelest twists, Snicker’s little heart began to give out and she passed away before Halloween. A sweet dog, always with a kind smile, a kind word, she left her poor Mom heartbroken. Snicker was the type of dog we would all like to be.

Doxie

Even older than Snicker, Doxie spent 18 years with his Mom, being her heart dog every single day. Doxie had many illnesses at the end of his life, but he clung on to his Mom, and this life, for as long as he could. Doxie and his struggles were a big part of our lives since we began doing social networking with pups. He always seemed to be a loving spirit who would be here forever. And in a lot of ways, he is.

Fuzzy Bacon

Fuzzy was lucky enough to be adopted into the Gustavon clan, along with 12, Chappy and Whiskey. Unfortunately Fuzzy had aggression issues and despite months of classes and training with the family, the evils in his past could not be overcome by love. Fuzzy had to be put down for being ovelry aggressive after he attacked another of their dogs and their Dad. If the Gustavons could not train and love the aggression out of Fuzzy no one could. But the Gustavons have not stopped taking in dogs who need a new home, as they have a new rescue, Blue, living with them

We remember all these blogs, and send love out to their families. They, in their own way, made the world a better place, and they all will be missed. May they run free at the bridge.

The Calvey Christmas Card

2011-12-29T22:49:00.002-05:00

Having reached eleven I am starting to get nostalgic about Christmases past. With that in mind I went into the basement of my condo and pulled out the journals of my Daddy’s childhood dog Barney. (Back in those times before computers and the Internet dogs had to write in journals and hope that someday humans would invent something to allow their stories to be widely distributed.)

I dug out a journal that said Christmas. There was the story about how he chased Santa down the driveway barking at him when he paid an unexpected visit; the story of the Jewish lawyer who each year brought the family fruit basket and for years Daddy and his sister thought Hannakuah was a day people of the Jewish faith brought Christians fruit.

But then I found one I thought you would enjoy. It is called: “The Calvey Christmas Card.”

From the paw of Barney Dog:

It was a freezing cold December morning. I was trying to keep warm in my dog house but some days there just weren’t enough wood chips. I heard the sound of the postman pulling up to the mailbox.

I trotted over to him and looked up, my tail wagging. “Nothing for you today Barney,” he said. “You know dogs don’t get mail.” I had told him my dream: Of a day when dogs sent each other cards, and gifts, and talked over computers, and the postman didn’t think twice about delivering mail with a dog’s name on it. AAlthough I may not get to that mountaintop of mail with you, I will be there in spirit.

“Oh look a this,” the postman said holding an envelope. “It’s the Calvey’s Christmas Card.” He laughed as I covered my eyes with my paws.

The Calveys were friends of my Boy Daddy’s family. I had never met them. Being a dirty black dog I would be hidden if a Calvey scurried near our door. There was a tall handsome father, a beautiful blond wife, and two beautiful blond daughters. By some kind of magic probably manufactured by their beauty they were able to project their picture on to their Christmas card.
The father would be sharply dressed in a dark suit with a red tie, and his hair was perfect. His wife would be seated, looking like a blond Jackie O. The two girls, each hair glowing, teeth perfectly aligned, were smiling. It’s beauty was too great to behold. Each member of Boy Daddy’s Family would look at the card and say “This, this is the family I wished I had.”

An aside: The Calveys had a pool. The beautiful Mrs. Calvey painted a mural on the bottom of her pool, because that is what beautiful people do. In the summer, on days they were not with the other beautiful people, they invited Boy Daddy’s family. One time they did it on the Fourth of July. The plan was swimming, a cook out, then getting dressed and going to the Brockton Fair, which is a place to go with the family ro have fun and watch the fire works (Foley note: Now it’s a place to watch gang fights and get Hep C.) The swimming and the cookout were done. Boy Daddy was dressed with his Buster Browns on and was near the pool with the youngest beautiful blond Calvey daughter Mary. Now, Boy Daddy’s story is that Mary pushed him in the pool. Her story, and the story of everyone who knows Boy Daddy, is that the klutz fell in the pool. Either way Daddy was in the pool, fully dressed, even in his shoes. He got fished out. They put his clothes in the dryer, and while they dried, his shoes did not. Our Mommy did not want to put his dry socks in wet shoes. So she put his feet in baggies and used rubber bands to hold them in place. So, with my Boy Daddy in foot condoms they went off to the Fair.

When they got their Boy Daddy, his sister, and the beautiful Calvey girls saw the greatest of sites. A bouncy house. Boy Daddy excitedly asked his Mom if he could go into the house and she agreed talking off his shoes. But she did not remove the baggies from his feet. This led to the first time in his life that Boy Daddy heard the term F*g*t. Boy Daddy was having fun bouncing in the house when some kid who looked like Vargas from A Christmas Story said “Hey everyone look at the F*g*t with the bags on his feet.” Everyone laughed and Boy Daddy squished away never to go into a bouncy house again.

Now back to the Christmas Card. It would be hung in an area of great prominence. People would then come to the house to gaze at the picture. An old black dog with a baritone growl explained why “They will come Barney. They will most definitely come. Because it is money they have an beauty they want. They will come and they will look at the Christmas Card and memories of beautiful people in their life will wash over them. They will come Barney. They will most definitely come.”

And they came, to look at the beauty of the picture on the Christmas Card. And when the season ended it way carefully removed from the wall and placed in a shoe box with the other Calvey Christmas cards, and the box was put in a special place where it glowed for the rest of the year.

Someday maybe a dog will be on a Calvey Christmas card. Then I can rest at the Bridge in peace.

The end.

Well it seems Barney’s dream came true. Good for him, and good for all of us. His dream came true almost 90 times for us this Christmas as our house was filled with cards with pcitures of dogws on them. . So lets dream big this holiday season for the dogs who come after us. Everyone must have a Calvey Christmas card somewhere in their home to wish upon for a better future.

Cinnamon is our December 25, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-12-25T22:11:00.002-05:00

Christmas is a time for many things. Three of them are old friends, new friends, and miracles. The Pet Pack managed to provide us all three in a spawn of five days.

We had only heard from the Pack once since May of 2010 when they came back to our dog park and barked that they were here to stay. They also introduced us to a new Pack member:

Her name is Cinnamon, she is a lab mix, and came from the shelter her Mom works at. She was a Christmas gift to the family. She is sweet and fit right in with the Pack. But as soon things went terribly wrong. She became very sick. Her breath and her ears reeked. She had come home the most playful of pups but now she had no energy. She only wanted to drink water but her nose very dry. She had terrible diarrhea, just liquid squirting, with continuous accidents. Her Mom made a vet appointment for her and asked for prayers.

Her Mom also spent as much time with her as she could. She fell asleep in a chair with her for two hours. That night Cinnamon had three messy poos while her parents slept and then two more after they awoke. Then worms started appearing in her poo which is very bad. At this point her Mom was praying that it is just worms in her intestines and not something else..

Well when Cinnamon got to the vet she was just a champ. The vet did a thorough examination and determined that she was malnourished, had roundworm and had Giardia, which, I assumed, but was happy to learn from Pocket, was not an STD. But they were all very serious illnesses.

Everything that she was suffering from was a result of maltreatment from the terrible people who owned her before she joined the Pet Pack. If they were going to surrender her why did they they have to torment her before they gave her up? They starved, abused, and burned her, and they kept her in such cramped quarters that she got the Giardia from drinking water with feces in it. Hopefully those terrible people don’t have any more dogs. . But luckily Cinnamon went to the right shelter and found the right Mom to save her.

The vet wrote out a prescription for some medication and told Cinnamon’s Mom that she should be back to a normal puppy within 48 hours.

By Christmas Eve another miracle had happened for Cinnamon. Not only had she been adopted by the best family but she was back to being a playful pup. But she had a blue Christmas, because, in her desire to help her Mom get a paw print, she painted half her body blue. She got a bunch of great gifts which must have surprised her so much considering the horrible life she had pre-pack.

So here is to Cinnamon. A Christmas Gift to us all, who went from a horrible home, to the shelter, to a wonderful home where she got very sick, but luckily had a Mom determined that she get better, who nursed her back to health, and gave her new toys, but more importantly a new life on Christmas Day.

So a tip of the tail to Cinnamon, the Pet Pack, and their wonderful Mom.

Great Gifts: Hobo's Balls; Smoochie's Sweaters; Apollo's Beanies and Sophie Bub's Mug

2011-12-21T21:06:00.000-05:00

This morning when we got up to do our business there was a box on our steps. Of course it was for us. All boxes that come to our house have things inside them for us. After we completed our business requirements we came back to the house and Daddy brought the big box inside. He told us it was from Hobo and his family.

We gathered round as he jabbed a kitchen knife into the carton and ripped it open. And then he picked up what was inside. A beautiful, big orange ball. Daddy called to Mommy and told her that they got oranges from Hobo and family. We are so full of balls in this house we don’t even call them balls. We just name the color.

While Mommy and Daddy were looking at the orange I got on my back legs and had Pocket crawl up my back and get in the chair. From there she was able to tug on the box and pull it over to the edge of the table. She then stuck her face into the box and one by one dropped four of the orange balls on to the floor.

Let me tell you, for those who have never played with fresh Florida Orange balls, these things are terrific. They have a tough outside so you can sink your teeth into them and carry them around the house. And they are round, obviously, so they roll all over the place. If you are like Pocket and have BDD (Ball deficiency disorder) and lose your balls these are the best balls to play with because they leave a trail of juice on the floor, so when you lose your ball you just follow the trail, lick up the tasty juice, and find your balls. Leaky, tasty balls: Hudson you’re a genius.

Then Mommy came out, and get this! She says the big orange balls weren’t for us. They were for the peeps! And that too much of the juice is bad for our urine. Bad for my urine. My urine can piss off! These things are great. Mommy and Daddy had them for breakfast this morning and they gave me a little taste, so sweet and juicy. So, dear Hobo, please let us know who these sweet, juicy oranges were for. And thank you and your parents so much.

And while we are thanking there is my Secret Bub Smoochy. Oh how Smoochy has come through for us this year. We were so lucky that Smoochy was assigned to us. We got chocolate potato chips (then found out they were for Mom and Dad too, what is going on here?), a scarf for Mommy from Smoochy’s Mom favorite shelter, and for us two pretty sweaters, some little soft balls (not juicy), some treats and and some toothy treats. For a big dog Smoochy certainly knows how to dress a small dog. He also gave us the scarves on our Christmas Card photos. Love you Smooch.

Also we would like to thank Angel Sophie Bub and her family for sending Mommy and Daddy the wonderful Starbucks mugs, that was so sweet or her, and to thank Angel Apollo and the family for the beanie babies.

Outside of being adorable we don’t know what we have done to receive such kindness from so many people. We have also received gifts recently from the Lambies, Leo the Chow and Hattie Mae, and I apologize because was have probably forgotten someone who sent us something, but whatever it was we loved.

We have a couple of pictures below. Both of us are in the sweaters Smoochy sent. I am posing with the beanie baby that Apollo sent and the mug Mrs. Sophie Bub sent. In the other Pocket is posing with Mommy’s scarf, some treats Smoochie sent us, and Hobo’s ball.

Thank you all. We really are the luckiest dogs in town.

You are our December 18, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-12-18T20:01:00.001-05:00

Congratulations you! You are our Pup of the Week. It’s about time isn’t it?

Now you might be wondering: Me? Why me? Well, because I have spent time on DS in the last two months, and if there is anything that it has made me realize how wonderful you are.

Don’t misconstrue my meaning. There are absolutely wonderful dogs on DS. I would love them to come here. I think they would be happier here. But then there are....The Others.

Some of you former members of DS may remember the Saturday night flights. On Saturday night Levi would be tucked into bed with his stuffed (or inflated) Princess and the members he monitored so closely would begin to fight, never about dog issues, but always about that someone said something that they shouldn’t have said, or was misunderstood, which started a fight which everyone needed to chime in on and the Saturday night fights were on.

I had forgotten how unsettling the Saturday night fights were until last night when a week of fighting between multiple members boiled over into inflammatory blogs being posted every minute, people threatening to leave, good dogs taking down their profiles because they could no longer stand the fighting. It was like going to visit the battlefield at Gettysburgh and finding the Civil Was still going on.

We hurried back to our home here on Tanner Brigade. As we walked the quiet streets, looking at all the pretty houses with the beautiful lights, dogs barking hello to one another and giving each other friendly licks we realized that there is no better place on the entire Internet for dogs, and their peeps then right here.

If one of us is sick, you are there; if one of us has been called to the bridge you are there; you are supportive and loving as a friend could hope for; if we need a laugh you are sure to have posted a funny blog; if there is a dog that needs to be rescued you are sure to have posted a link; if there is a food recall we have learned it from you; if we have a health issues you are the first ones we ask; if a human is sick we turn to the power of the Brigade for healing; if we want to party down you’re there with an invitation; if we need to laugh, cry, commiserate, scream, learn, get hope, it is you that we turn to.

Frankly, we would be lost without you. You are our best friend. We treasure you. If it’s been a few days and we haven’t heard from you we start to get worried, then we are so happy when we hear from you. You never have a bad thing to say about anyone and you always make us feel so loved when you leave us a comment.

Sometimes we forget what a blessing our friends are until we go away for a little bit. So we honor you this week because you are our best friend and your Mom is the best person. I love everyday when I get a card from you in my mailbox. And I hope that you know that you can always count on me, and I hope that I live up to my end of our friendship as much as you have lived up to yours.
So stand up and take a bow. Because you are a very deserving pup of the week.

Christmas Card Out Takes 2011

2011-12-16T22:27:00.000-05:00

There are days we dogs dread on the pup calendar. Bath day; vet day; and then the worst of all: Christmas card picture day. We knew it was coming.

Most mornings, while Mommy is doing her hair, I sit in my chair and Pocket sits next to Daddy in the recliner and trembles because she hates when they leave.

Tuesday morning I was chilling and Pocket was trembling. I am much better at reading my humans’ vibes than Pocket is. I knew they weren’t going anywhere. The tree with the seizure causing lights was up, the stocking were hung, the little village crowded the shelves, there was only one thing left, the dreaded picture taking.

If you read the blogs about my foot injury you are aware that my parents do not respect knowledge. Without any medical training in the least they dictated how my paw would heal. This was going to be the Battle of the Bloody Paw all over again. But this time there would be photographic proof.

Mommy used the instruments of torture on her hair. Pocket went to hide under the table thinking she would be crated. I ran into the hidden corridors of my condo. Mommy was able to gather Pocket. Daddy picked up my condo and shook it until I came out. Then they walked into separate bedrooms.

Daddy thought we were taking pictures in the front bedroom, Mommy in the master bedroom. The entire thing just showed how unprofessional they were.. As always Daddy caved and they decided on the master bedroom where we were placed on the comforter that Mommy had said we would never be allowed to sit on.

They then placed a present, a weird stuffed thing that makes music, and a stocking behind us. They then started calling our names, whistling, tweeting, twerping, burping, trying to get us to look at them while they both took pictures, Daddy on his cell phone, which was silly, because there was no way Mommy was using one of his pictures.

Mommy says she can never get a good picture of Pocket and I together. She doesn’t know why. I am going to let you in on a secret. The reason is I sit next to Pocket and while the pictures are being taken I whisper “you know those cameras are the number one cause of brain cancer in dogs.” I also told her that the cameras catch your soul so don’t look right into it. Plus I kept telling her how mad Mommy would be if she peed on the new comforter. By the time I was done she was a twitching mess who couldn’t look into the camera. Hey, I may have claimed I was a good dog but never a good sister.

After an hour and a half, 1,000 pictures, my parents emitting every sound possible by the human mouth, Mommy and Daddy decided to take separate pictures of us, and those on our Christmas Card list should be getting those cards. But if we run out we are going to send regular non picture cards with a picture of Pocket and I together: her trembling, me not.
Mommy wanted to take over here and say how hard it was to make cards at CVS, how the machine wasn’t working right, how there was no one there to help, how it took her and the woman next to her almost two hours to get them done, but frankly, I find that story boring, so you won’t be seeing it on this blog.

Now I have to stand over Mommy and make sure she sends out all my cards. The pressure may be getting to her. Today Pocket and I got seven cards today to their one. But they will all get out, unless I want attention from her and make her put down the pen.

Anywho, here are a couple of outtake pictures of our Christmas card session. Love getting all the cards from you all. I hope ours live up. A Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Paco is our December 11, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-12-11T21:03:00.001-05:00

Just before us pups are placed on this earth we are given our instructions, find a human who loves you then gives them all your heart. You are very happy and fulfilled doing this. But, since we give our hearts to our humans, ours don’t last as long as human hearts, which break their hearts. It all sounds like a vicious circle to me.

This brings me to my good friend Paco. Paco lives in Italy, which is part of Europe, which is like a land where there are a hundred United States, one more screwed up than the other. Paco and his Mom were both very fortunate to find one another. They gave each other their hearts so they would beat as one.

But Paco’s heart, after many years, has grown weaker. He had to go the the dogtor (or, as they call them in Italy LaDogtor) for an echography (I am sorry, I don’t know what this is, I asked Pocket, who has an honorary doctorate from training school and she said you perform the test by going to a cliff and throwing a dog against a wall, then seeing how far he bounces back. These honorary doctorates from training schools are useless when it comes to medical knowledge.) Paco also had a to have a blood test. Now these I know about. I hate those little pricks. On their way to the test, as Paco was being driven by his Mom while her Mom was with them keeping Paco calm their car broke down in the road.

Now besides being just about the sweetest dog I know this is why I love Paco. Because Paco’s Mom telephoned for a “safety car.” Apparently a “safety car” is what they call taxis in Italy. I have never been in a taxi in Italy but I know taxis in America are anything but safety cars. It makes me wonder where Italians get their taxi drivers.

The “safety car” got Paco to the dogtors, but, sadly, he did not get good news. Whatever the echography is it showed his heart was getting worse and he has a ventricle that was widening. He was prescribed some meds after they made sure that the meds would not overwhelm his kidneys.

A few days later Paco got his results back from the dogtor. He had suffered from liver problems earlier but his liver was getting better and his kidneys were not affected by the medication. There would have to be further tests to see how successful the medication was working but things were looking up for Paco.

It is sad when you have a friend who is sick and is so far away. But we are asking you all to keep sweet Paco in your prayers. He is a wonderful boy, so caring, so helpful when one of us are in trouble, and we hope he is with us for a long time because we love him and the wonderful things he teaches us, like safety cars.

So please keep sweet Paco and his Mom, over in Italy, in your prayers, so he can keep his heart beating with hers, keep our hearts, and faces smiling, for a long time to come.

The Superior Adventures of Zoe Boe

2011-12-10T19:56:00.001-05:00

Zoe Boe is a good friend of ours. She is very sweet and docile. But this week we learned something remarkable about her. Zoe Boe is a super dog, called to help humans in need who flash their Zoe Boe signal off their smart phones. When Zoe Boe sees her signal she runs outside, leaps in the air, and takes off tracking the source of the signal.

Earlier this week she saw it shining in the sky to the West. She flew there within minutes. She landed at an airport. One of those silly men in the brightly colored suits and ear phones ran to her. “What is the problem citizen?” she asked.

“There is a bad man on the plane with a hand held device. We don’t know if it’s a bomb but he’s ranting and raving. Zoe Boe you are our only chance!”

Zoe Boe put a reassuring paw on the man’s shoulder and told him to keep everyone away from the plane. She then took two steps back, ran towards the plane, jumped on the wing, slid to the window and clawed at it until it was open as she gained access to the fuselage. .

There was a tall man sitting in his seat, unbuckled, holding the device in his hand. He had nice hair, slightly overweight, the kind of man who might have looked good 15 years ago, the type of man who had several brothers not as successful as him. Zoe knew she was dealing with one of the most dangerous of beings. An enraged Baldwin.

Zoe Boe approached him carefully, her ears alert, her tail high behind her. Several airline hostesses were hiding in a corner. Zoe looked at them and winked. She then turned to the aging star of the overrated sitcom. “Citizen, I need you to control yourself, you are scaring the other people on the plane.”

He thrust the device at Zoe Boe. It was an I Phone. On it was a scrabble game. “Look at this!” the enraged man screamed. “Are you going to tell me that zoa is a word. Zoa? Has anyone ever said they were going to go out and get an ice cold Zoa. And Qi? What the heck is a Qi? I hate this game. I hate it. Never play Friends With Words with a woman named Fey.”

Zoe knew nothing calmed an out of control man more than a good snuggle. She jumped in his lap. This caused his arms to be trapped so he could not see the phone. He stroked her ears and then looked at her with misty eyes. “I am sorry, you’re a good dog and I was out of line. It’s just this game it drives me crazy. These words no one has ever heard of. You know I used to be the star of major motion pictures. Now I’m stuck on a sitcom with a black guy who reads every line the exact same way and a woman who gives herself all the good lines. I just don’t feel wanted.”

Zoe smiled at him sadly. “You know once I was a pup and no one wanted me. I was going to be killed by my owner but a wonderful woman came and saved me and now I have the best life. Just when you think no one wants you, you find out how loved you are. So I am sure that someday you will find a home at a major movie studio and that will be your forever home.”
“You are the most wonderful dog,” Baldwin said.

“Why don’t you say we get off this plane, I bet you the next one will have the owner of your forever major movie studio on it.”

He asked her name..

“Zoe Boe.” Then he asked if there were more dogs like her in the world and Zoe told him yes, and they were collectively called Zoa.

He smiled and tears fell down his face. Zoe then led him down the aisle and out of the plane. The flight crew thanked her but she told them there was no need. This is why she was here.

She gave Mr. Baldwin a lick and left him to meet the head of his forever movie studio and she flew home to gratefully snuggle with her Mom.

Our interview on Coffee with a Canine

2011-12-09T20:14:00.001-05:00

Who wants to read an interview with my shy and barely seen Mom? And see pictures? She was luckily enough to be interviewed on the famous coffee with canine blog. There is even answer to how Foley got her name. You can read it HERE

Please Mr Postman

2011-12-06T21:42:00.001-05:00

It has been bred in dogs since the stone age to attack the postman. At that time people communicated by drawing on stone with slate. The postman would be weighed down with stones, so, when they walked up uninvited to our cave opening, we gave chase, and, because they were so weighed down, they were easily catchable, and because food was scarce, well, things could get ugly.

Their only recourse was to throw stones at us, which allowed us, after the chase, to catch up with news from the other caves. Strangely, this means of chase and learn still exists in Afghanistan.

Today I think we dogs have to agree to overcome our breeding and let the postman be, because as of late Pocket and I have received more mail then Mommy and Daddy combined.

In our village Daddy leashes us, takes us for a walk to do our business, and to get the mail. The mail is kept in a little room at the front of the village. Because this is the Village of the Pruned there is a handicapped ramp leading to the room. Sometimes Pocket pees on the ramp and then we hide on the other side of the landing, wait for some old guy to slip, and then we laugh while Daddy calls 911.

When the ramp becomes clear we ascend it again, Daddy puts the key in the mailbox lock, pulls out the envelopes, and announces who the mail is for. One for Mommy, one for Foley and Pocket, two for Foley and Pocket, three for Foley and Pocket. And then he turns to look at where the big packages are. If there is one with our address it is inevitably for us two little Yorkies.

When we get home Mommy opens our cards and reads them then hands them to us. We have got too many to mention and it’s only the beginning of December. We did get an exclusively made Puppy Malatesta ornament. I let Mommy hang that from her tree but then Pocket and I take the rest of the cards into the leopard skin vagina condo.

Like all the really good kitty condos it is bigger on the inside then out the outside. Pocket and I took the game room, moved out the pool table and the Frogger machine, put in an eight foot Colorado spruce, and on the walls we are hanging all our cards from our friends. We have the walls color coded so we can match the toy in the Toy Room, with the card in the Tree room. Just because you’ve had your anal glands squeezed doesn’t mean you’re not anal.

So I ask all my dear friends out there to not chase the postman anymore. I know, he used to bring things to Mommy and Daddy that would either make them sad or make them spend time away from us. But more and more these creatures of the night are bringing things to make us smile, feel loved, and to play with, or eat (yummy!)

So resist the urge, leave the postman alone, and maybe even give him a kiss, because you never know what he has for you.

As for the need to chase, bark and possibly bite, there is always the newspapers guy.

Mollie is our December 4, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-12-04T22:09:00.001-05:00

You know, sometimes all you want is a sun room.

That’s all our friend Mollie, her Mom Cindy, and her Dad wanted. A sun room. But this sun room became to them like an Alby Truss, something that follows them around and brings nothing but trouble.

The building of their sun room began, according to my calculations, sometime in 1992. Mollie has her favorite spot in the sun removed. There was banging and booming, sawing and swearing, all day long. Now they are waiting for the painters to get done (we remember the hot week in July when the painters took over our house, no fun) and then for the ceramic tile to come in. Seems endless to me.

And they need to have an inspector come in. An inspector is a lot like a dogtor. They poke and prod until they find something wrong. We can only hope that Mollie’s sun room is done before the snow melts.

But that is not why we honor Mollie, much like our our friends last week, we honor them because after all this work, her Daddy has taken ill. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Daddy once told me how they checked for that and I slapped him right in the mouth. Sicko!

The cancer was low risk so Mollie hadn’t barked about it before. He had surgery and it went well. Mollie’s Mommy said it was a textbook surgery. I hope when Mommy has her surgery the doctor doesn’t need a textbook to do it but anyway, the surgery went fine.

But the recovery didn’t go as expected. Mollie’s Daddy had a triple bypass in 1996 and his repaired heart wasn’t working like it should. It is such a human problem, you get yourself steely for one problem and another comes around your blind side and slaps you in the head.

Mollie’s Daddy’s heart can’t seem to get into rhythm. He was allowed to go home hut human hospitals always need more beds so we hope he wasn’t let go too early. Mollie’s Daddy has been getting lots of shakes, and he doesn’t have a lot of energy.

He is going to see the doctor on Monday, and Mollie’s Mom is hoping to check with his heart doctor too. Right now what Mollie needs is some prayers and no one does better prayer brigades than dogs.

So tonight let’s say some prayers for Mollie’s Dad to get back to normal so he can finish the sun room and Mollie can get her place in the sun back. Then they can both lie down and have a good, long rest.

Foley Raised A Cain

2011-12-02T22:27:00.001-05:00

I have never sought the spotlight. I prefer to stay off stage and comment on the events of the day. But today I reluctantly found out that a long forgotten incident has caused me to become fodder for the American tabloid machine, even though I did nothing wrong.

The incident began, as so many do, innocently enough. I was a young dog. I had been working for months creating, and perfecting, squirrel jerky. I was selling it out of the sliding glass doors of our condo when a passing kitty told me there was going to be a National Restaurant Convention coming to the Boston area later that month. The kitty said I should go to it to peddle my jerky.

I saved my kibble and bought a bus ticket to the big city. I loaded the jerky into my fanny pack, boarded the bus, and headed off to make my fortune.

I set up my Squirrel Jerky booth. While some of the humans showed a slight interest none of them saw it being a big item on their menu, and they reminded me something I, in my young and inexperienced ways, had forgotten: Dogs don’t eat in restaurants.

I was taking my display down, ready to return to the small town life with my tail between my legs because I got Tabasco on it when I heard a deep voice say “Squirrel jerky, what a wonderful idea!”

I turned around and standing there was a big man, must of been about 210, black skin, mustache, glasses, thinning hair, pleasant smile, and he said he was interested in my jerky technique. I pulled out my samples and said I could show him but he said it would be better if we did it in his hotel room. I, being naive, agreed.

I went to the room at the appointed time and scratched the door. He let me inside. I could smell a mixture of Aqua Velva and Manischewitz on ice. I removed my fanny pack to display my wears on the floor but he said he had a bad back and he needed to see them closer. He helped my up on the bed. It was there that I lay my jerky.

As I was explaining the product he began to pat my head, which I did not mind, in fact I found it plesaent. As I continued he scratched under my chin, just above my breast bone, which is my sweet spot. He asked me if I liked it and I said I did. He then told me that he was over talking to one of his pizza buddies when across the room he saw the swish of my tail and had to get to know me better.

I tried to steer the conversation back to jerky. I began to explain how I made them from the finest squirrel by product when suddenly he lifted me, flipped my over, and began to give me an unwanted, and unauthorized, belly rub. I tried to get free but the big man kept me presed down on the bed. I finally was able to nip a finger and he cried out and grabbed his hand. I jumped down from the bed and began to nip at his heels. He tried to grab me but I darted back and forth barking until the hotel manager came to to tell him there were no dogs allowed in his room. When the door was open I dashed out, down the stairs, to the bus station, and on the bus home, ashamed that I had left evidence all over my bed.

I had chalked the incident up to a lesson learned and forgot about it until today when I got a call from the Huffington Post asking me if the incident was true. I did not know why it mattered, but I told them it was. Well it turns out I wasn’t the first lollipop who had her belly rubbed without permission by this man. In fact he had several accusations made against him. And he was running for President of the United States.

Now it seems that having an illegal Yorkie in his room has derailed his campaign and he is going to drop out of the race.

I am sorry this happened Mr. Cain. I did not mean to cause you any pain. Just wish you hadn’t made me run out in the rain.

Oh, and one other thing. Can I have my jerky back?

My Right Paw

2011-11-30T22:09:00.001-05:00

If you read my blog last week you will know that I suffered a paw injury. Mommy, who has no medical training, attempted to fix it, while I knew that all wounds can be healed by a dog’s tongue, and we battled over what treatment was better, until it was healed, whereby we both took credit.

Shortly after I published the blog I was still licking my paw. Mommy told me I would hurt it again if I persisted. I scoffed. What does she know?

The next morning I was lame again, unable to put any wright on my right paw. Mommy told me I had done it to myself with excessive licking. I disagreed. The injury had nothing to do with my licking, the wound was caused by one of the following.

Pocket licking my feet while I was sleeping because my paws are delicious.

Our house is built over an Indian Dog Burial Ground and the spirits of the dogs attack my paw at night.

Robbers broke into the house while Mommy and Daddy slept and I fought them off with my paw.

I am the first dog to have a Stigmata.

Mommy pulled out the darn socks again. She, with Daddy as her accomplice, shoved my leg into the sock, they then bunched it up and taped it, so I could not lick my paw and heal myself. Then Daddy, let out of the house because he ankle monitor was malfunctioning, went to the store and he bought booties.

This was the latest of my many public humiliations.

I was licking the sock so they put the boot on so I could not get to it. I said fine. I wore the one boot, like Michael Jackson attempting a trend that was doomed to fail. I waited. I knew my parents. The boot just slipped on. They had to tape the sock on. They are weak and lazy. Like Fredo married to Fredo. After a day they decided to just put the boot on. And when their backs were turned I slipped that boot off like Lindsay Lohan before knocking heels. Oh I feasted on my foot until they caught me.

They soaked my foot at night in either Epsom salts or peroxide. I calmly sat there with my foot in the Dixie Cup of doom, this time relaxed, like the drunk, sleeping fraternity brother with his two roommates slipping his hand into water and waiting anxiously for him to pee. Daddy also bought something called Liquid Bandage which he sprayed on my cut and man did that sting. It also had a bitter taste to keep me from licking. Bitter taste my butt! Once you’ve worn a sock for ten days how bitter could anything taste?

Then Mommy betrayed me. She went on Facebook to say that I had opened the injury on my foot by licking, completely disregarding the Stigmata and Indian Burial Ground theories. She asked for the opinion of other humans. I don’t mind this. But to do it on Facebook? It’s just so...common. TB, Doggyspace, the Blogger Community, sure, but Facebook, where people go to discuss Wal-Mart sales and the Kardashians? I think not.

Someone did tell her to use as product called YUCK, which sounded great to me. I love gross things. Human sweat, people with morning mouth, the occasional stool. The more YUCK the better.

This battle continued for nearly a week. Mommy told me each morning while I was dipped and socked that if I didn’t chew my paw I wouldn’t have to wear hosiery. On Tuesday I gave in, and I am sockless again. But now, when I lick my foot I get a pinch in the butt. The simple humans think I will think each time I lick my foot I think it will cause me a pinching pain in the butt but truthfully it makes me think I’m on the subway.

So that is this week’s installment of As The Paw Turns. We will see you next week.

Nine beagles, rescued from a research lab, step outside for the first time

2011-11-28T18:22:00.001-05:00

see rescued beagles here

Buddy, Moose and Sydney are our November 27, 2011 Pups of the Week

2011-11-27T21:53:00.001-05:00

There is a joke by the human comedian Bill Cosby. I am not a big fan of human humor, Fozzy Bear is more my style, but I thought he raised a good point. He talked about, as the father of a male athlete, you get up early, take him to practice, take him to games, pay for the uniforms, pay for the equipment, work with him in the yard, take him to colleges, and, when they score a touchdown, and get on TV, they look in the camera and say "Hi Mom."

I think, as dogs, we are guilty of that too. Those of us who have Daddies, while we love them, we really are Mama’s dogs. If Mommy is gone we might be sitting with him, or playing with him, but when Mommy appears, boom, we’re gone.

This week I learned that my very good friends, Moose, Sydney and Buddy, have a Daddy who had become quite ill. And it’s one of those illnesses which they haven’t found a cure for yet. And it’s one of those illnesses that keeps getting worse. I don’t like to think about those illnesses.

And Sydney’s. Buddy’s, and Moose’s Daddy, well he’s a great Daddy. He’s not one of these Daddies who think of dogs as one of Mommy’s little “distractions” to keep her happy. He is a true Daddy to his pups, making sure they go with him on ride, on vacations, to car shows. He’s the type of Daddy that, when a pup tells us they long for a Daddy, we wish they had.

And he is the kind of Daddy, like my Daddy, who understands that an afternoon with their dog is an afternoon well spent. He takes cares of Buddy, Sydney and Moose like he takes cares of his family. He did such a good job taking care of his family that his son. Jordan, inlisted in the army and went to Afghanistan to fight for our freedom. What better example could a Dad set?

Now the good news is that Moose’s, Sydney’s and Buddy’s Daddy has a lifetime to live. The bad news it that it’s one of our lifetimes to live, which, everyone who has ever loved a dog before knows is way too short. He has medication to take away his pain, and he has the love of a wonderful wife, a strong son, his family, and three beautiful dogs to make him feel like the best Dad in the world.

Which is what he is.

So we raise our tails in salute to Moose, Sydney and Buddy. We vow to help their Dad, and their Mom and their family through some hard days and to celebrate their good days, because we are all one family and they are an important part of it.

And for those of us with Daddies, let’s not take them for granted, and to snuggle up to them too, because they are as deserving of our love and our Moms.

Pocket Dog: Pants Free in 2012

2011-11-23T20:11:00.001-05:00

I, Pocket Dog, have a very important proclamation. As many of you know. in my four years of existence, I have been inflicted with excitable urination syndrome, depressed urination syndrome, comfortable urination syndrome, I don’t feel like getting out of the chair urination syndrome, ah the hell with it I am just going to pee on the floor urination syndrome. For a young dog I was afflicted with lots of syndromes.

I am often asked how did I cope with all these syndromes. Surprisingly well. There were some positive side effects. I didn’t have to go outside in the rain, or the snow, or the cold, or the warm, or the sun.

The bad side effect was that Mommies don’t like it when you pee on their rug (but Manny’s Rug Cleaning and Pig Butchering sure does) and I had to wear pants. Some called these pants diapers. I don’t like to refer to them as diapers, Diapers are something you wear under your pants, unless your Batman or Robin, and those two have a whole other thing going on. I wear my pants, denim pants, and I don’t wear diapers, or underwear, and let me state, that I started this trend. Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, Brittnay Spears, all those lollipops ripped off my look!

Mommy and Daddy kept trying to get my out of my pants like a high school sophomore at his first boy girl dance. Daddy began to keep track of how many times a day I needed a pants change. I was averaging 14 pees a day. My Daddy try to keep up but usually, by the end of the day, he would be cuddled in the fetal position under the table crying “I can’t keep up, I can’t keep up.”

That’s when Foley proved to be helpful. She put me on a strict regiment of kegel exercises. I worked out everyday and soon I cut down on the 14 urinations a day. I was down to seven or eight. In the last couple of months I wasn’t having what my Mommy called “accidents” (but if they happen every day for 4 years how accidental could they be) at night. And then the decision was made.

Now, after supper. I am pants free. There is nothing between my underside and the floor but brown and tan hair. At night I am out there and I am loving it!

And now for my proclamation. Pocket plans to be pants free in 2012!* No more Pocket piddling jokes, no more looks of shame from my parents, no more service people coming to the house and saying “yo, why’s the little dog wearing denim pants?” None if it. Done. Pocket dog will be pants free in 2012.

You can count on that as much as you can count on the word of anyone running for President.

*Pants free in 2012 does not include when Pocket is playing ball, because Pocket is known to leak when she is playing ball. Also it does not include when children come over because Pocket gets very excited and pees when children come over. Also, since Pocket going pants free will have to be passed by Congress it is unlikely to actually happen.

Tiger is our November 20, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-11-20T21:45:00.001-05:00

It seemed like, for a good long while, it was another Pup of the Week, another very sick pup. But this week it’s another Pup of the Week, another pup happily ensconced in their forever home. Last week it was Wishbone. This week it’s Tiger.

Tiger’s life started out like a morning nightmare. Thankfully the rest of his life will be filled with sweet dreams.

He began his life locked inside, no feeling of sun on his fur, no smells of nature drifting into he wet nose, no tongue tasting everything that looks interesting. Because, as he said in his first blog on The Brigade, he had hit the jackpot. He got fostered by Sierra’s and Nase’s Mom. Jackpot indeed.

From a cold hard surface Tiger got a fluffy pillow in his crate. Food came at a regular time each day. Water was always available. And the food was so tasty. Like nothing he had eaten before. When he had become fostered he was too thin but with all the good food that problem was quickly righted.

And it took Tiger no time to get himself up with the rest of his pack, the wonderful Sierra and beautiful blob Nase, who gave up precious love time from Mom, and precious mattress space, to allow Tiger to sleep on the bed. At first she said it was for only one night. But the next night Tiger jumped right up there on the bed again and his foster Mom didn’t have the heart to tell him to get down. It was here that Tiger found his first great unknown talent. He is an excellent snuggler. And in that bed, in that snuggle, for the first time Tiger felt love.

Not only did he get to be loved, her got to be a dog again. He wrestled with Nase. Sierra warmed up to him quickly, sensing an ally in her battles with Nase. Sierra ever forgave being run over by Tiger when he was racing Nase in the backyard. Sierra watches over them and interferes with her big snapping teeth if things get out of control.

When the story of his first days as a foster pup with Sierra and Nase were told we all responded the same way. Tiger was not in his foster home. Tiger was in his forever home. And this week we found out we were all correct.

Tiger was overjoyed when he told us the news, jumping up and down, barking that he was in his forever home. He told us with great pride he had a Mom, all his hopes, his prayers, his wishes, had come true. He had everything he ever wanted, a loving Mom, a mentor in Sierra, and in Nase a playmate and a bother all rolled into one. As Tiger said, he and Nase became the terrible twins.

As Tiger reminded us in the blog announcing him as our newest member, that there were still many pups left in shelters, and, while rejoicing in the joy he found, he asked us to pray for those left behind.

Which is why he is a very fitting Pup of the Week.

Foley Heal Thyself

2011-11-18T22:40:00.001-05:00

Oh nobody knows the trouble I have seen this week. On Monday I got a cut, due to totally irresponsible walking by my Daddy.

My less than attentive parents didn’t notice the hitch in my gait until I jumped off Mommy’s recliner on to the hardwood floor and while my back legs and left front foot moved in my normal, graceful trot, my right leg Yamaguchid all over the floor. Pocket noticed. We usually attack one another when one of us is lame but she just laughed thinking I was doing an imitation of the previous Monday’s Nancy Grace dance elimination dance.

I hobbled for a drink of water. No one noticed. I swear I could spontaneously catch fire one day and my two slack jawed parents wouldn’t turn away from the bad dancing they are enthralled with on the television. Finally Daddy noticed and he helped me into the recliner. He tried to check my paw but screw him! He couldn’t bring the water dish to me he doesn’t get to play with my toes.

Truth is my pads really hurt. Daddy took us out on our last business trip of the night and I was moving like Ryan Howard making the last out against the Cardinals. Then we came in and Daddy held me while Mommy began to look at my paw. Hello! I highly doubt either one of them are medical professionals. And this was my favorite paw. It’s the one I use to paw at people to get them to pay attention to me. I wanted to be left alone. I knew how to fix my paw. It just needed a few hours of licking.

But no! Mommy, who has no medical experience, and doesn’t even have paws, thought she knew better: control freak. So first she picked up scissors, and, with no grooming or barber experience, began to trim the hair around my injury. Talk about your delusions of grandeur! Cutting my fur? She should be the Patriots trainer. Tom Brady gets a concussion she can run out there and shave his head. Anyway she cuts the fur and determines that I have a cut between what we call, cutely, in our house, my piggy toes, but on this night I referred to as the (boolahlah) things that were paining me. She hands me off to Daddy, the igor to her Frankenstien, and then she came back with a Dixie cup, which I thought was to put my hair in so it could be sold on e-bay but actually contained some liquid that smelled funny and then, while Mommy held the cup, Daddy tried to put my paw in the cup, which, while being exactly the same plot of a Tiger Woods sex tape I downloaded, when he finally overpowered me, and stuck the paw in the cup, made me scream “oh, sweet, fancy, boolahlah!” Then, to top off this botched operation, she squeezed the paw with a towel, which dried it, and made my eyes bug out of my head like Rerun on What’s Happening when he found out there were no cheeseburgers.

Then I got put in bed where I could finally give my paw the medical attention it needed. I lay in bed and licked my paw. But then Mommy got in bed and Dr. No Diploma told me I could not lick my paw. Was she crazy? This is the only way it would heal. I licked, she swatted my butt. Lick, butt swat, lick, butt swat, lick, butt swat. The entire thing not only totally reenacted the Kardashian-Humphries wedding night, but lasted longer than both their foreplay and their play.

I finally fell asleep despite the pain. I woke up and gimped through my morning business. I then sat in my chair next to Daddy and licked my paw. But Mommy got up and not only did she tell me to stop, she took one of her tiny socks, and put it on my leg, and taped it securely with package tape. I was frustrated, humiliated, emasculated, predated. And when I got to the floor, which, as if laid out by Jeff Probst before a Survivor challenge, goes rug, hardwood, linoleum, just to mess with me, had me slip sliding away.

On Wednesday there were no more socks, I think Nurse Rachett had taken some pity on me. And my foot, thanks to my licking, was getting better, except when they stuck my foot in that boolahlah Dixie cup of pain. But I still limped around because Daddy was carrying me a lot since he hated to see me limping, and I decided to milk this thing until I got tired of it or someone dropped their sock.

But by Thursday I forgot to limp and getting carried was over, and so was the butt slapping, which I had grown to love, and the Dixie cup of doom. Mommy says it was from her stopping me from licking it but I know the truth. It was my magical healing tongue that did the job.

If only Kris Humphries had a tongue like mine he would still be married.

Pocket's Top Ten Reasons She Does Not Want A Zombie For A Parent

2011-11-15T20:38:00.001-05:00

Lately there has been lots of blogs about zombies. Kolchak’s and Felix’s Mom even took place in something called the zombie apocalypse over the weekend. People took scary pictures of themselves with zombie gore on them and posted it on line. I didn’t like this at all.

I don’t want my parents to be zombies. I like them just the way they are. But if you must know here are my top ten reasons for not wanting my parents to be zombies.

10. Zombies are terrible walkers. They don’t hold on to the leash. They don’t walk in a straight line so they are always tripping over you. They never remember the way home. No matter how much you tug they only stumble the way they want to go.

9. They don’t pick up your Vick. If they do they taste in then throw it down in anger.

8. If you see a human and bark at them, then walk over to them wagging your tail to get petted, they eat them.

7. If you chase a squirrel day after day, and finally catch them, your zombie parent eats them too.

6. Every morning for breakfast: Brains.

5. The importance of grooming, both yours and theirs, becomes completely unimportant.

4. They don’t like to sit, and when they do, their laps aren’t warm.

3. When you pay play fetch with zombies they throw the ball and, after your retrieve it, and bring it back, they have wandered off after some brains.

2. They are undead, they have body parts falling off, but they still get mad if you pee on the rug.

1. It turns out the undead are cat people.

Wishbone is our November 13, 2011 Pups of the week

2011-11-13T21:14:00.001-05:00

Like Harry Potter Wishbone is the dog who lived.

I first met Wishbone shortly after he was saved for the first time. He was a coon hound who wasn’t good at hunting. His owner thought a dog that won’t hunt ain’t worth the expense and planned to have him killed. But in came the force of nature known as Paula Malatestsa and she saved Wishbone from certain death.

But Wishbone, having narrowly escaped the Bridge, was a very skittish dog. When he got his first chance he bolted out the gate and into the wilds of North Carolina where dogs are nothing but property and they put dogs down if they stray on to the road. Miss Paula was distraught. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of Wishbone. On Sunday she went to church to pray for her boy.

When she came out of church she looked down a hill and saw Wishbone. Decked out in her Sunday best she went running down the hill to save her boy. Wishbone saw her, running, then tripping, then rolling, down the hill, and said “well how ‘bout that.” He was so surprised he didn’t run. Paula got him and brought him back home were we all thought he would be safe for a long time.

But then tragedy stuck. Paula became sick. She had to go to the hospital. Her dogs were left unprotected. The wicked witch of the south and her little monkey showed up and began to gather the dogs up. Having smelled the lust for death on a human before Wishbone knew to run. They were unable to catch him. But the majority of his brothers and sisters were sent to the bridge and again poor Wishbone’s future was very much in doubt.

When Paula got out of the hospital Wishbone ran to the one person on this cold planet who had ever shown him any kindness. But Paula could not longer keep all the dogs she had, having to flee her house to protect her dogs. Wishbone would have to be put up for adoption, and quickly. Our DS friends, Apple and Blossom, from New Hampshire, stepped up and said they would be happy to take Wishbone.

Paula’s sweet daughter drove with Paula and Wishbone to the North where they met with Apple’s and Blossom’s Mom and Paula said her sad goodbyes to Wishbone. He went up north to a strange house without his Mom, his human brother, and his pup brother and sisters. But Wishbone knew one thing was the same. It was a house filled with love. And he knew that he was finally safe and his his forever home.

Now Wishbone is a Northeast dog. He romped in the freak October snow he had. And the other day his young human sister had to stay home from school and Wishbone stayed by her side protecting her from the sickness that had invaded her body.

So this is for Wishbone. The pup who lived. The pup who has slipped away from a ticket punched for the bridge twice. It seems he has found peace and harmony in his new home. Let’s hope it’s a long life for this most deserving dog.

Foley the Diva Blogs on Peggy's New Diet with Your Dog Book

2011-11-12T20:37:00.001-05:00

I have come before you today to do what I seldom do with a human unless I have licked a fair amount of their skin, and that is to praise them. The human I have come before you to praise is Peggy Frezon She was one of the brilliant minds behind K9 Kamp that gave me plenty of laughs,
watching Pocket Dog and Daddy tripping over one another. Now she has a new a venture. A book. Yes, the things Daddy reads while he is sitting on the giant water bowl making vicks in good drinking water.

Her new book is called Dieting With My Dog. She has her work published in Guideposts Magazine, V and written for the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. But this is her first actual book and I must tell you, for a book written by a human it isn’t bad. The bipeds are buying it up like hotcakes (and then getting upset when they find out hotcakes isn’t good for their diet.) It has sold out on Amazon.com. Query for the humans: How does a book store run out of books when there is no actual store? Just wondering. Anywhoo: This isn’t really a diet book. I was fooling about the hot cakes. Go have one now if you can find anyone selling them. There aren’t any diets or exercise plans. I think the exercise plans were removed when it was shown how dangerous they were to Yorkies.

It is her story about her struggles with her weight, and in the end, of course, it is a good dog that saves her and got her to diet. All good stories end with a dog saving the day like how Ahab’s dog bit that whale and sent it to the bottom of the sea. A lot of humans struggle with their weight. Pups too. Not me. I’m perfect. Pocket either. She wastes so much time chasing her ball and tail she stays trim.

Peggy writes about having weight problems after she became an emptynester. This either means her children moved out of the house or she ran out of birds in Angry Birds. Both are upsetting. Mommy is an empty nester but one of her bird keeps flying over the house and fouling the nest.

Peggy, when she was missing her kids, would eat what is called comfort food: cake, cookies. What we call treats and are usually some sort of flat chicken. Yum. (Of course Kolchak has recipes for lots of good healthy treats but maybe this blog isn’t the best place to be promoting treats.) What she needed was a partner to diet with, and who is more loyal a diet partner than your pup.

Peggy’s pup helped her diet, helped her lose weight, and like all dogs, saved their Mom’s life. It is a great and fun read. With me being perfect, and Pocket thin, if Mommy needs a dog, we are going to have to find her a rotund one. Every once in awhile we see a big dog and say “hey fatty want to help my Mom lose weight?” So far no takers. Pocket says it could be my approach but that can’t be right can it?

Now we have good news and bad news. The good news is that you can win a copy of the book right now. The bad news is you can’t do it here. You should be able to do it here. But our secretary can’t figure out how to do the raffle thing. We are going to have to wait until Peggy’s book “Getting more computer literate with your dog” comes out. Instead we are going to give you a link to Kol’s blog.] Here it is.

Follow the instructions on his blog and you can get win a free copy of the book. You can also check out Pip Gets Back in the Game with a senior dog questions Peggy about how to lose weight.

So check out the links and check out Kol’s blog and win a copy of the book. And go dieting to you all.

The Pawnight Show with Special Guest Kris Humphries

2011-11-10T22:52:00.001-05:00

*Sound of audience murmuring and then a band beings to play the Foley Monster theme song*
Pocket: It’s the Pawnight Show starring Foley Monster. With Hobo Hudson and the all mutt Orchestra featuring Hattie Mae on vocals. Foley’s guest star tonight is national disgrace Kris Humphires. I’m your announcer Pocket Dog. And now heeeeeerrrreee’s Foley.
*The audience begins applauding as Foley comes out bowing*
Foley: Welcome. Wow. Snow one day then hot weather the next. I don’t know which of my fur to wear.
*Audience howls.*
Foley: My sister Pocket likes to bury her bones in the yard. I asked her way why and she says because you can’t bury it in a tree.
*Audience howls.*
Foley: Later tonight I am going on a trip to my favorite city. I am going to New Yorkie.
*Audience growls.*
Foley: Ladies and gentlemen Hobo Hudson and his all mutt orchestra.
*Hobo and the band play Hound Dog while Foley walks over to her desk. She jumps up, circles three times, scratches the top of it and sits down. Pocket jumps up in the seat next to her.
Foley: Pocket have you found your yellow ball?
Pocket: No. I keep asking Daddy to move the refrigerator but you know Daddies all they can do is open the door and eat something.
^Audience barks in agreement*
Foley: And what about that guy on the bike who owes us for the World Series?
Pocket: I chase after him but he is very fast for an old man on a bike.
Foley: Well he probably needs a bathroom.
Pocket: True that.
Foley: Just a programming note immediately following this show our band leader, Hobo, has his own show, “So You Think You Can Bark” and I suggest you all check it out.
Pocket: It is my favorite program.
Foley: OK, let’s bring out our guest, he married Kim Kardashian and then caused her to file for her nightmare divorce, it’s Kris Kardashian.
*Kris Humphrees comes out and sits down between Pocket and Foley*
Kris: Excuse me my name is Kris Humphries, not Kris Kardashian.
Foley: Humphries? I got elected my second grade President by running on the Free Hump ticket.
Pocket: I thought they called you that because you are such a hump.
Kris: No, it’s my last name.
Foley: Tell me Kris, as dogs, there are few things we enjoy more than a big ass. That Kim, she has a pretty big ass. Did you ever stick your nose up there and get a good smell.?
Kris: No, that’s disgusting.
Pocket: I don’t think this guy even got to second base with her.
Foley: Well, that’s disappointing because I think lots of dogs would like to get a nose on that.
For us little dogs we can’t really get high enough to get up in there. The most we can hope for is for some old lady to fall down and then we can jump on top of her.
Pocket: Which reminds me we are still collecting for our charity, step stools for small sniffing dogs. Just because we’re small doesn’t mean our freedom to sniff should be curtailed.
Foley: You and Kris have come under criticism because you were only married for 87 days but that’s like a year and a half in dog marriages.
Pocket: And that’s a long time to be married to that bitch.
Kris: I never thought of it like that. I should think more like a dog.
Pocket: I think marrying Kim Kardashian shows you think like a dog just fine.
Foley: Do you own a dog?
Kris: No I do not.
Foley: Why don’t you own a dog? Everyone should own a dog. What have you got against dogs?
Kris: Nothing. I just travel a lot. Don’t have a lot of time to spend with a dog.
Foley: Well we have pictures of you and Chloe Kardashian so that argument doesn’t hold water. And you aren’t working now are you?
Kris: No we are locked out.
Foley: Oh I hate when they lock us out. We can’t get out of the yard, can’t get to squirrels. Have you tried digging under the fence?
Kris: We have tried everything. I don’t know why these owners won’t pay us tens millions of dollars to play basketball and try when we feel like it.
Foley: Now it says here that you have parents who are not of the same breed. Now I may be a full bred Yorkie but I don’t have any problem with someone of a mix bred. Is that why you were returned by Kim. Because she thought you were a mutt.
Pocket: Oh that is terrible. You know when we get someone to take in a mixed breed and they return them we have such a tough time getting them adopted again.
Kris: I don’t need to be adopted I am a grown man.
Foley: Oh Kris, you have been locked out of one home, you were returned after being adopted in less than three months. You are unadoptable.
Pocket: You know what happens when you’re unadoptable?.
Foley: We might find a no kill shelter.
Pocket: But he’s a big, dumb, clumsy mutt who was returned from his last foster home. Plus, looking at the floor, he seems to have a drool problem.
Kris: Dude, I don’t have a drooling problem.
Foley: What we need to do is get a big, dumb, mutt rescue. I know, we will post him on Backup Power Forward Pardons. Please people go to Backup Power Forward Pardons and please adopt Kris Humphries. He has only 24 hours to live.
Kris: 24 hours! What is gong on here!
Pocket: Don’t worry. I’m sure you need a home. Christina Argulera might need a Backup Power Forward.
Foley: Ant that’s our show for tonight. And please. Save Kris Humphries!

Clementine and the Girls are our November 6, 2011 Pups of the Week

2011-11-06T22:20:00.003-05:00

How is it possible we have been doing this as long as we have and Clementine and the Girls have never been our Pups of the Week? (Unless theu have been, I asked Pocket to check our records this morning but she spent all morning chasing balls). We better be right. After last week when we named the wrong pup Pup of the Week Mommy told us no more Saturday night Foletinis if we made another Pup of the Week mistake and we can’t live wtthout our Saturday night Foleytinis.

So today we honor Clementine and the Girls, hosts of the fine show So You Think You Can Bark. Wait! I have been handled a note from Pocket Dog. Oh man, we are so going to lose our Foleytini Saturday nights. Clemetine and the Girls do not host that show. They are, though, very worthy pup of the week candidates.

There are three main reasons that we have named Clementine and the Girls our pups of the week. First is that they do a wonderful job updating us on our friends Saffron and Sage. Since Saffron and Sage’s Mom went to the Bridge to wait for them we have lost contact with our buddies but thanks to Clementine’s family we are informed whenever either Saffron or Sage need prayers. Clementine and the girls know we love our friends and never want to lose contact with them.

The second reason is that they are becoming very important business dogs. They have their own Facebook page now. It’s for their Mom’s grooming shop but the real drawer is the Girls .

Looking at theb beautiful pups they are who wouldn’t travel all day just to pampered by such a talented groomer? Please feel free to like the page by visiting the Facebook page HERE.

The third reason is the incredible job these girls do posing. Don’t get us wrong, we have some great individual posers in our group. But I can’t post with Pocket for the birds. But Clemintine and the Girls pose like they are alone.

We have sprinkled their beautiful pictures through out this blog. There is the leader of the pack Clementine, aka Clemee, she is chocolate and tan. Her half sister is Clancey Jane. She is a black and white tri colored dog. Clairee Kayte is a small black velvet dog. Lainey Bug is the only non Cocker Spanial in the family although she think she’s a Spanial. She is really a Shih Tzu.
Lettie Anne is the youngest member of the family while Clover White is the newest members, a silver buff.

This has been a good week for us, no sick doggies, no one going to the Bridge, no one running away, no one in need of prayers. So during this beautiful well let’s celebrate these beautiful dogs. It is wonderful to be able to celebrate all that is beautiful, calm, and loving in dogs. And that is why we celebrate Clementine and the Girls as our Pups of the week.

Pocket Dog Dog Detective: The Case of the Yellow Ball

2011-11-02T15:41:00.000-04:00

I have quite the set of balls. I have friends send me balls, Mom buys me balls, there were balls here when I got here.

I play with my balls. All sorts of different ones. But I usually have one ball that I play with above all others. I call it my yellow ball. Because it is yellow. And mine.

Last week Daddy was sitting in the glider. Grampy was over, he was sitting in the recliner. Mommy was in the kitchen talkin’ ‘bout the government. I brought my favorite yellow ball over to Daddy and dropped it at his feet.

He threw the ball while talking with Grampy. I kept running it down and bringing it back. Over and over. Then Daddy threw it. It skipped down the hall and I lost track of it. I came to the closed front bedroom door. The ball wasn’t there. I walked into the adjacent laundry room. You know what? No ball there. I went into the front bathroom. No ball there. Then I frantically looked around the kitchen. Still I was ball less. Completely without ball.

Mommy and Daddy looked for it but they couldn’t find it either. Daddy then pulled all my balls out of my pet bed and he laid them all on the floor. I walked over and sniffed my freshly lain balls. I picked both the green one and the red one to play with. But I still wondered what happened to my yellow ball.

I knew what I must do. I entered my pink, triangular kitty condo and went through my trunk. I found my houndstooth cap. It was time to unleash on the case the world famous detective Pocket Dog Private Dog. (Note” When I wear my cap I undergo a slight personality change, barely noticable, but the rest of the blog will be written by Pocket Dog Private Dog.)

A missing ball case. If I had a kibble for each of these I came across my bowl would be over flowing with kibble. I called my girl Friday Foley. She walked in, legs all the way up to her hips. When she wagged her tail men would weep. I asked her what she remember about the yellow ball.

“Daddy threw it down the hall, you somehow lost it on a one floor home with only seven rooms, and you’re trying to blame somebody else.”

Foley had a smart mouth on her but she got away with it with the wiggle in her walk. But I also couldn’t trust her. And she was in the room when the ball disappeared. I couldn’t eliminate my girl Friday Foley from being a suspect.

I walked over to Mommy’s recliner, jumped up on it, and climbed up on her chest. I stared into her brown eyes. “From what I’ve been told you were the last person who saw the yellow ball. It skipped by you in the kitchen before it disappeared. What do you remember from that day and did you have any contact with the ball?”

“I don’t know what happened to your ball, I don’t care what happened to your ball, and you need to get off my chest now.” I sensed I was close to breaking her, but sometimes you have to know when back off, which I did, snuggling next to her.

At night, in bed, after Foley was done licking Daddy, and he was lying reading, I hopped on his chest and looked down at him. Perhaps he had aimed the ball for a secret hole, or palmed to ball, or had snuck another dog in the house who ran off with the ball. I stared down at him as he answered my queries but he claimed her knew nothing, and if there is one thing I could attest to with my Daddy it’s that he knows nothing.

I turned around and sat on his face. I did my best thinking sitting on his face. There was only one suspect left. Grampy. This could be payback for stealing the Cardinals cap. (We haven’t collected from that old man on the bike yet. Every time he sees us he rides faster and rings his bell louder.) And Grampy would be over the next day. I knew if I kept the pressure on the old man I could break him, or, if he tripped him, I could break his hip.

When he was at our house on Tuesday I jumped on the recliner and gave him my best tough detective look. I asked him if he knew where my yellow ball was. He answered “What?” I told him it was no use trying to play Charlie McCarthy and dummy up, he better tell the truth. I knew I had shaken him up because he said “What?”

I had him cornered now. I jumped on to his chest. He gasped. Usually I don’t like to get physical with a subject because I’m five pounds but hey it was working. “Tell me where my yellow ball is?” I demanded.

Before I could crack the case Mommy told me to get down. And that’s when I figured it out. They were all in it. It was a conspiracy, bigger than any of them. This went up to the highest levels of government. Everyone had joined together in a conspiracy to make me look bad and I swore I would devote the rest of my life to breaking either Mommy, Daddy, Foley, or Grampy and then I will bring them all down and victory shall be mine!

Either that or it’s behind the hutch. But after I ruin ever member of my family I’ll check the hutch. Pocket Dog Dog Detective never loses a case.

Although sometimes I lose my ball.

Cooper is the dog we meant to be our October 30, 2011 pup of the week

2011-10-31T18:04:00.001-04:00

Our friend Cooper needs our prayers. He has a condition that causes his bone marrow to make too many red blood cells which can cause seizures, hemorrhages, blood clots to to the brain, tumors and death.

On Wednesday the vet told his Mom that his HCT level rose five points in two days which was very scary. Also she could not get the medicine he needed because it was not available yet. He told her to watch Cooper to make sure he was not showing any signs of needing a blood draw but never told her what those signs were. His poor Mom didn’t know what to do or which way to turn.

On Thursday Cooper and his Mom spent six hours at the vets. They took his blood which doesn’t seem nice and didn’t replace it with fluids for a long time leaving our friend a little loopy and tired. He has to go back a week from Monday for a CBC. While there they had to suffer through what always happens when you spend too long at the vet, they came in contact with someone who was putting down their pet, a six year old Great Dane with cancer, and they all sat together and cried at the loss of this magnificent lost.

So, again, a good dog, is unfairly suffering through no fault of anyone. Another dog, another senseless illness. Sometimes humans say it’s a dogs life, and having lived one for more than 11 years, I can attest that a dog’s life is a pretty darn good one. But sometimes it’s just not fair, and what has happened to Cooper, getting healthy only to find out he is sicker than he ever thought, well that’s just about the most unfair thing I can think.

So I am asking what I know I never need to ask. I am asking for prayers and positive thoughts to go out to Cooper and his Mom. I’m asking for this cold and cruel world that we live in to be a little less cold and cruel.

I am asking for a miracle. We’ve done it before. Let’s say our prayers and get another miracle so a year from now we can celebrate Cooper as Pup of the Week because he did something wonderful and becoming ill, because Cooper is a super Pup, and certainly worth using a miracle on.

Scooter is our October 30, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-10-30T22:28:00.001-04:00

The last time our Pup of the Week, Scooter, was so honored, it was in September 2010. It was a dark days for us dogs. We had recently lost some of our friends to the Bridge and when Scooter’s groomer spotted red marks on his mouth and tummy the vet put forth two courses of action: One, he would be fine, the other would be another pup lost to the bridge. The diagnosis was IMHA. He needed a transfusion and lots of expensive treatments. But Scooter is a champ and he pulled through, fighting off long odds, helped by his Mom’s love.

Thirteen months later (an unlucky number) in the six days before the dead walk the Earth (also unlucky) Scooter got some unlucky news. He has a condition that causes his bone marrow to make too many red blood cells which can cause seizures, hemorrhages, blood clots to to the brain, tumors and death.

Even sadder, Cooper was about to come off the medication for IMHA. After a year of fighting off one illness and beating it, and maxing out his Mom’s credit card, he got hit with this new disease. It was like travelling to the end of the yellow brick road only to find a dragon threatening your life.

On Wednesday the vet told his Mom that his HCT level rose five points in two days which was very scary. Also she could not get the medicine he needed because it was not available yet. He told her to watch Scooter to make sure he was not showing any signs of needing a blood draw but never told her what those signs were. His poor Mom didn’t know what to do or which way to turn.

On Thursday Scooter and his Mom spent six hours at the vets. They took his blood which doesn’t seem nice and didn’t replace it with fluids for a long time leaving our friend a little loopy and tired. He has to go back a week from Monday for a CBC. While there they had to suffer through what always happens when you spend too long at the vet, they came in contact with someone who was putting down their pet, a six year old Great Dane with cancer, and they all sat together and cried at the loss of this magnificent lost.

So, again, a good dog, is unfairly suffering through no fault of anyone. Another dog, another senseless illness. Sometimes humans say it’s a dogs life, and having lived one for more than 11 years, I can attest that a dog’s life is a pretty darn good one. But sometimes it’s just not fair, and what has happened to Scooter, getting healthy only to find out he is sicker than he ever thought, well that’s just about the most unfair thing I can think.

So I am asking what I know I never need to ask. I am asking for prayers and positive thoughts to go out to Scooter and his Mom. I’m asking for this cold and cruel world that we live in to be a little less cold and cruel.

I am asking for a miracle. We’ve done it before. Let’s say our prayers and get another miracle so a year from now we can celebrate Scooter as Pup of the Week because he did something wonderful and becoming ill, because Scooter is a super Pup, and certainly worth using a miracle on.

Pocket is for the Birds

2011-10-27T18:07:00.000-04:00

In between our modular home and the one to our left is Mommy’s gardens. On the edge of the gardens is a black dual bird feeder holder, one very big, one very small. Next to the feeders are two thin fern trees where thousands of birds live. There are Blue Jays, Robins, Sparrows, all different types of pretty birds. Foley ignores the birds like she ignores most things but I’ve become friends with them.

I have reached an agreement with them. They talk to the big birds for us so they don’t swoop down and carry us off. And I chase off any vermin that comes near them to steal the food.

When Daddy just takes us out to pee I usually hang out at the feeder and discuss the news of the day. One day, late in August, a pretty red bird was eating some of the seed that fell to the ground. I wandered over, pretending to smell for a proper pee spot, because neither Daddy or Foley liked me talking to the birds, and found a pretty red bird. I asked him what kind of bird he was and he said he was a Cardinal.

I told them I had heard of them while watching baseball with Daddy. He asked if Daddy was the one who had put out all this delicious food out for them and I said yes. He then said the birds wanted to thank Daddy. He told me to have Daddy put all his money on the Cardinals winning the World Series. I shook my head and told him Daddy said the Red Sox were going to win the World Series. The bird told me that wasn’t going to happen because their pitching staff did nothing but drink beer, eat chicken, and play video games.

I aarfed. Like that was possible. But the cardinal told me he knew it was true and he was going to prove it to me. He was going to drop a Cardinals cap on the driveway for me. He then flew away.

Later that night I told Foley and she laughed too. “Don’t listen to bird Pocket, there is a reason they call them bird brains.”

Just before the beginning of September I saw that cardinal again. I asked him about the cap and he said he dropped it and an old man picked it up and brought it in his house. There were plenty of old men here in the Village of the Pruned but he said not here, a couple of miles way from here.

This was unfortunate because I needed the cap to prove to my Daddy that the Cardinals were going to go to win the World Series. Then, that night, he told Mommy that his Daddy had found the Cardinals caps in his own driveway. I jumped up in his lap and told him he had to go get it right away, that it was the Cardinals rally cap.

Daddy told me I was being a silly girl and put me on the floor. But starting that night the Red Sox kept losing, and the Cardinals kept winning, and Daddy began to believe in the bird brains. Without telling Mommy he bet the modular home on the Cardinals.. He decided, to insure the Cardinals winning, he needed the cap. But his Daddy, having thought that a Cardinals cap falling from the sky into his driveway was a sign from the baseball Gods, had bet his house with the same bookie Daddy did on the Cardinals winning, and believed if he did not keep the cap the Cardinals would lose.

When the Cardinals fell behind 3-2 Daddy panicked and decided that it would be better luck if I, the intended recipient of the cap, had it, so he stole the cap from his elderly Daddy. His Daddy chased him for half a mile but with bad legs and a bad back he fell behind.

So we are waiting for the game. The Cardinals better win. Foley has downloaded herself to St. Louis. They may have caught the rally squirrel but they will never catch the Rally Yorkie!

Then again Daddy and his Daddy bet their houses with the 92 year old man who rides around on his bike and rings his bell all day and Foley and I are pretty sure he’s insane so we’re not worried about the houses.

But to prove how devoted we are here is me with the Cardinal Rally Cap.

Go Cards, because we don’t want our Daddy and his Daddy being chased around the Village of the Pruned by an old bookie on a bike ringing his bell while being nipped at by a Rally Yorkie.

Snicker is our October 23, 2011 Pups of the Week

2011-10-23T18:39:00.002-04:00

I felt a crushing sadness when I learned of Snickers going to the Bridge, perhaps because of the culmination of passages to the Bridge since the fall of summer, perhaps because I so enjoyed our conversations, perhaps because, as his Mom said to me on Monday, he was her best friend, and perhaps because I don't think many of you got to know the pleasure of his friendship as much as I did. Snicker had quite a long life for a dog, had a wonderful Mom, a wonderful family, but whether it be a two year old, or a 15 year old, the passing of a dog, bar the passing of a child, is so incredibly emotionally taxing on our Moms.

Snicker had a very hard last year.

We both had the same attitude about the grandbabies who came to visit us. We loved them, but gosh, they are a bother, wanting to pick us up, chase us, just love the literal stuffing right out of us. I had Pocket and her eternal cuteness to throw at them while I scurried under the bed, but Snicker's had only his own eternal cuteness to offer.

Snicker and his Mom always knew how to enjoy themselves. At Christmas his Mommy sat on the floor to wrap gifts. She would spread the paper on the floor and Snicker would sit in the middle of it. She would chase him off and they would play chase throughout the house. It was one of his favorite games, and, if the truth be told, hers too.

The temperature was always a problem for my little friend. The cold of the winter bothered our him a great deal. He got the trembles a lot from the cold. His Mom put a sweater on him and even talked about pants. But Pocket had patented pants so he couldn't wear them. But when it warmed up he enjoyed his walks at Riparian Preserve where he got to play with the ducks and his other bird friends. He made it a rule only to chase the cats. And he could go to the park when it was just him and his Mom and he could run fast and free like he was young. He still had fun, even with a stubborn stomach bug he couldn't shake.

By the end of January Snicker could no longer go on long walks. He still went to visit his bird friends, and he still chased a cat or two, but his allergies were keeping him from enjoying the outdoors as he did before. And the vet gave him some icky medicine to take. Do they ever have good medicine?

And then there was the snorting. Not the Lindsay Lohan kind but the kind I get where I snort and don't breathe well. I do it once or twice a month but for Snicker it was an everyday bugaboo. If you don't snort you don't know how bad it is. You have trouble breathing, Mommy and Daddy get excited, Pocket snaps at me because she's confused. Mommy picks me up and I settle down in a minute or two. But a big gust of wind in the face can set it off. So Snicker and I were siblings in snort.

A week after Pocket and I moved into our new home Snicker moved into his. And just like me he was happy to find no stairs. Oh stairs are such a pain when you reach double digits. Cesar Milan says your parents should take you for a three hour walk when you move into a new home. Neither of our Mommies did that. No ones Mommy does that. And yet humans still listen to Cesar. There were a few problems for Snicker in the new house. He would see vermin in the yard and dash straight into the glass door a couple of time. It hurt quite a bit but Mommy was there with sweet kisses.

Snicker did enjoy his walks but the heat kept getting to him. He had to stop and cool down every time they hit a shady spot. His parents tried to keep him out until he did his business. I can tell you from my experience parents don't like when you leave treasures in their new house.

His Mom tried to schedule his walk for early in the morning or late at night but the Arizona heat was unrelenting this past summer. His Mom began to put ice cubes in his water to cool him off during his walks.

The temperature continued to climb up to 110 as his mother thought about getting him his own pool but he wasn't crazy about the idea of stepping in water. Snicker was having a difficult time breathing in the heat. His parents decided to roll up the rugs and let him stay in the cool house. He did find one advantage to the onset of deafness. He was able to watch the fireworks without having the big bangs going off.

By mid July it seemed the weather had painted a bullseye on our little friend. A thunder and lightning storm rocked his house so hard his Mom lay in bed with him all night as he moved restlessly to and fro on the bed and tried to catch his breath. Then came the huge dust storm that covered everything and left dust in the air. Not a good scenario for an elder dog with serious breathing problems.

Snicker would only go out to do his business. When he came back in her got a nice cool face wash that cooled him down and removed the dust that had collected from the air. By the end of July nature had almost defeated Snicker.

He got so hot his Mommy and sister tried ice bags to cool him down and then finally put him in an ice bath that may have saved his life. Blazer reminded his Mom that this could have sent him into shock but the alternative could have been a much easier trip to the bridge. Regardless his Mom decided it was his last ice bath.

I did not hear from Snicker after that. Then in the beginning of October he had his first stroke. His Mom knew she had a hard decision to make. He had a second stoke on the 14th, and on the 16th it was clear he would not be Snicker anymore. After his Mom held him in her arms for four hours while he slept she made the decision, took him to the vets, and the vet aided our friend on his trip to the Bridge. Our friend Tanner at the Bridge let us know that Snicker had arrived, and our hearts sunk, and broke on the floor.

The next day we learned Snicker sent us one last message, in his last days, in the form of a Warren Zevon song, which we will print for you below. He told me to make sure his Mom knew the message was for her. Before we do let me make clear, Snicker was a great companion to his Mom, a great friend to all, and we miss him like a brother. When we go out for our last walk to the night we look at the stars, and we have noticed Snicker's star shining brightly in the west. And we blow a kiss and tell him how much we love and miss him. So here's to Snicker, I hope you knew him, your life would be sweeter if you did.

Shadows are falling and I'm running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for a while
If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for a while

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for a while
There's a train leaving nightly called when all is said and done
Keep me in your heart for a while

Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile
You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for a while

Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver's headed north to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for a while
These wheels keep turning but they're running out of steam
Keep me in your heart for a while

Ask Aunt Foley

2011-10-21T21:19:00.003-04:00

Dear Aunt Foley:
I am a 14 month old male dog. Despite having an older brother to show me I still pee like a girl, by squatting. I didn't think it was any big deal. But then my Mom goes and puts it in a blog. Now everyone knows I'm a premature squatter, I'm an underdeveloped leg lifter. Am I failing in my duties as a big male of our species? And should I be mad at Mommy for spilling my squatting?
Bouncing Barrry

Dear Bouncing Barry
Your Mom is just worried about you. You know how Moms want us to be perfect and happy and never have a thing wrong. All our Moms assured her that there was nothing wrong with squatting. Some boys even admitted to squatting themselves. So you don't have anything to worry about. Just don't let your brother Benjamin tell any of his law enforcement buddies because if they find out you're a squatter they'll go Andy Sipiowicz all over you.

Dear Aunt Foley:
I recently learned of a dog named Kelly that went to the bridge. My Mom contacted this poor dog's mother and found out that she had no money to pay for the operation that Kelly did not recover from. Me and my Mom wrote a blog on DS asking people to send money either to the vet or to the family. Then my Mom got a phone call. Someone told her that Kelly was alive and well. Her Mom posted everything as a way to get money. As soon as this became public knowledge the profile was taken down. Mommy is not only upset she sent in money but she got other people to give money too. Luckily lots of people sent money to the vet and he is reimbursing them. Why do humans have to come on dog sites and try to scam good humans like my Mom out of money?
Red Hot Blazer

Dear Red Hot Blazer
As we know humans get very desperate when it comes to money, and some are real ditches. And they know our parents are suckers for every sick dog story. My suggestion to all dog Moms with big hearts, (which is pretty much all dog Moms) is, before giving money, have the person in need provide the name of the veternarrian so you can verify their information. That's what humans should do. As for us dogs, first I had Daddy take me to the State Mental Hospital across the street from where our house used to be. I gathered up the geese and told them what the woman had done. They are headed west. It will take them awhile to arrive but they are planning the largest poop on you award ever. Then we cornered a squirrel, spared its life, and sent him west to pass on the word. Soon that woman's entire yard will be one large gopher home. Also, while I talked with the geese at the hospital Pocket talked with some of the crazies and they are also headed west to give the woman the full Ghadaffi. A beating, a shooting, strapping to the hood of a car and parade. I'll think of what to do the week after.

Dear Aunt Foley:
Its Halloween and my Mom is not very good at making costumes, but she is very good at making treats. She wants to wrap me in some strange cookie, paint me orange, and have me pose as a Snausage with "eat me" scribbled on my side. Has she lost her mind?
Konfused Koli

Dear Konfused Koli
I think you be adorable in a little eat me outfit. You could be a Kolausage. Of course you should not go out trick or treating. The last thing you want is a hungry Golden Retriever performing a Chuckles the Clown on you.

Dear Aunt Foley:
My Daddy enrolled me in something called K9 Kamp. I think he was trying to kill me. I did not lose any weight, did not need to lose any weight, and all I got out of it was gravel in my ear. Is there anyway we can file suit against him?
Pocket Ball

Dear Pocket Ball
Oh Pocket that was not a plan of Daddy's to kill you. That was a plan of Mommy and her friends to kill him without their being any blowback on Mommy. It almost worked. If you had zigged instead of zagged he's be pushing up dasies now. But you did a great job. Better luck next year.

Mia Learns to be a Big Sister to a Tiny Human

2011-10-18T20:13:00.001-04:00

We don't see much of our great big American Bulldog cousin Mia, She used to come visit us at the condo but she has never been to our new house. She used to go for rides all the time with our human brother Chad. We didn't go to her house too much. Chad and his wife Lisa don't like Mia jumping on their couch because she sheds. Pocket and I don't abide by the rules so much. So we don't go over there; it has something to do with if Mia can't jump on the couch than neither can we.
Humans: So many rules (I mean how are you going to snuggle with someone if the don't let you on the couch?)

Lisa then had her human litter of one. A cute little buy named Calvin who we love very much. But like lots of first time parents Lisa and Chad were protective of their precious new life. And Mia, who had gone from being the baby to being the baby watcher no longer knew where she fit in the family.

Mia wanted to check out this new little life. But her parents were always pulling her away when she got close. And the attention she got Well now that was going to Calvin.

It was some rough going the first few weeks. Calvin was an interesting little creature. He was a poo factory and us dogs love poo factories. And he was smiling, and happy, a wonderful addition to the family

Slowly, as Calvin got to be a meaty 19 pounds, and Mia got to know the little man. As his parents grew more comfortable and their confidence as parents grew they allowed Mia to get close to Calvin. Mia wasn't sure what this thing was but she knew her Mommy loved it and that was enough for her. So Mia made up her mind that from this day forward she was going to be Calvin's protector.

But there was no test to show how protective she had become. All the people who came to visit Calvin Mia knew before Calvin came and she trusted all of them. She would bark at strange noises in the night and vermin in the back yard. Her parents told her to be quiet but she was fulfilling her new job, protecting that perfect baby.

Mia heard over the phone that there was going to be a family picture taken. She wistfully thought back to the days when they would mention a family picture and that would mean she would be brought along. But she had accepted that a family picture now meant her parents and the baby and she was good with that. She just didn't know what would happen with that baby without her to protect him.

The day of the picture taking came and there was much time spent on getting Calvin to look perfect. Mia planned the walk to the door toe see them off. But when she got there here Mommy reached down and snapped the leash on to her collar and Mia to was led out to the carl She was going to be in the picture, a part of the family just like the other four.

Mia and Calvin sat in the back seat. Mia made sure to stay seated. She didn't want to have the car careen around and her fall on to the car seat. So she was very careful to stay still and not tip.

They reached the park where they were going to get the photo taken. Calvin was taken out of the seat and sat up between Mom and Dad. A very proud Mia lay down on the grass next to Mom. The photographer got set up to take the picture.

But the photographer was not happy with Calvin's smile. So, to get him to smile, the photographer went up to Calvin and with a strange look on his face said. "I'm gonna get you." Mia jumped up, snarling and barking at the man who was threatening the little baby she had sworn to protect. He ran a few steps backwards.

Mia realized that the man wasn't threatening Calvin but trying to make him smile. She was afraid she was going to get in trouble but her parents, knowing she was protecting their baby told her she was a good girl and then Mia realized what a valued member of the family she was. She sat down again on the grass with a big smile on her face.

A most valued member of the family.

Shadow is our October 16, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-10-16T21:48:00.000-04:00

This week, after we had collectively suffered through tragic deaths of close friends I put on my editor's hat and tasked Pocket Dog Private Dog with finding a happy story for this weeks pup of the week. Pocket sniffed all around the Brigade's playground. She turned over rocks. She sniffed every tree. But there was nary a good story to be told. Then, during one of my late night trolls through the blogs I found it. Among the stories that had caused of sadness was one concerning Shadow's Mom. She had a lot of back pain, and she had a kitty scan, and they spotted something on her liver. A spot on your liver, like a spot of liver on your plate is never a good thing. Shadow asked the Brigade to pray for his Mom and we all did.

It did seem that lately everything was going poorly. So while we prayed for Shadow's Mom we had come to expect the worst.

But on Monday the good news arrived. The spot on the liver was nothing to be concerned about. Shadow's Mom was not going to need saving operations and life altering treatments.

Oh Shadow we can't tell you how much your Mom's good report meant to us. We have lost two Moms in the last two years and we don't want that to happen again. And Shadow you are so sweet we don't want you to have a moment of sadness.

It did not make up for those we had lost but it gave us a brief respite from the pain. And we owe Shadow, is Mom and the good doctor for that.

Shadow's Mom, while not facing an uncertain future health wise, still had a ways to go before she is one hundred percent. She has a large cyst on the base of her spine. This is what is causing her so much pain. She has been put on medication to help shrink the cyst. Every night Shadow has to wrap her medicine in bacon and feed it to her.

Then the doctor is going to take a large needle and break apart thee cyst. My Mommy has had lots of shots in the back for her back pain, which she said she got from raising two Yorkshire Terriorists. Unless Shadow has a Terrier sister I don't think Shadow's Mom shares the same pain with our Mom.

But the good news for Shadow is that when Mommy gets her shots in the back she has to take a lot of pills beforehand, and when she gets home she's loopy as heck. Hopefully Shadow's Mommy has someone like Daddy who can place her in a recliner with a blanket where she can recuperate the entire day and provide a lovely lap for Shadow.

There is a possibility that Shadow's Mom is going to need surgery to remove the cyst and none of us want that. So remember to ask the Bridge Angels to watch over her and help dissolved this nasty cyst.

Because when we make someone as sweet as Shadow Pup of the Week we only want to do it because she's happy, and nothing makes her happier than a healthy Mom.

So let's raise a Foleytini or two to Sweet Shadow, our Pup of the Week.

The Two Luckiest Yorkies In the World

2011-10-15T22:36:00.000-04:00

Pocket and I like to complain about things but we are the two luckiest Yorkies in the world. We have the best friends anyone could ask for, and we have our parents tied around our little dew claws. To give you an example of how we have our parents under control I will relate this story. At our condo across from the state mental hospital there was a back door with windows that went almost to the floor so I could stand and bark at anything that moved in the back yard. But since we moved to the Village of the Pruned we don't have floor to ceiling windows and I can't help in the neighborhood watch.

This morning Daddy saw a squirrel by his bird feeders. It is my job to keep the vermin away from the feeders. It had been raining and the ground was wet. I guess Daddy didn't want me to get my paws wet, he had just brought me out and dried my paws when I came in. So he picked me up from my comfortable chair, carried me out on the porch, opened a porch window, pointed out the vermin, held me while I barked, then, when my job was completed, carried me back and put me on my chair like the princess I am. I don't even have to chase vermin anymore. I get carried, then held, to bark at them. I am the Queen.

On Thursday a frustrating thing happened. The door opened and shut but no one came in. I find this behavior very annoying. In the world of Yorkies, either you're in or you're out. Pocket and I stood by the freshly painted closet door and barked our protest. Mommy went out and came back in with a box. We got very excited because boxes usually means gifts for Yorkies but, at first, Mommy said they were new sandals for Daddy's precious little feat. Big deal. But then she said, no, she was wrong, it was for us.

We hurried over to the table to wait and see what we got. Of course Mommy and Daddy had to study the package. They couldn't' find a sender's name anywhere. Pocket and I were making our "miiir, mirrrrrrrr, miirrrrrrrrrm" whiny sound of impatience. They slit open the box. The first gifts to come out were these wonderfully stylish scarves.

Pocket took to hers like a duck to water. I took to mine like a duck to a shotgun. I don't like having things pulled over my head. I have seen the Green Mile one too many time. I did take to the delicious dental bones that came in the package. When Mommy's and Daddy's therapist came over on Thursday morning I scoffed mine down faster than any Yorkie could. Pocket, wearing the scarf, and the shirt Reba, Logan and Dodger sent her was too nervous to eat. The therapist. seeing a Yorkie dressed in scarf, shirt, and pants, raised her deductible.

Also in the package were two Halloween costumes. Pocket dove into hers. I remained aloof about mine. But I decided to be a good sport and try it on. The pictures are below.

We have no idea who was way too generous to us, and who we owe so much. We do have Pocket Dog Private Dog on the case so it is a just a matter of time.. Miss Laura knows who it is was and Pocket has ways (extensive licking) of making her talk,

But until Pocket cracks the case we want to thank all the wonderful friends we have on TB, DS, and in the blogger community. I thank you all for being our friends and making us the luckiest dogs in the world.

And for staying with us this long you get a bonus picture of our grandbabyboy Calvin

A Door Painted Me by Pocket Dog

2011-10-13T22:03:00.001-04:00

Oh man, I think I should have jumped over something bigger than a dime at K9 Kamp. It seems I might be too wide for my own good.

Mommy is still painting the doors of our modular home. You would not believe how many doors there are in this place. They could shoot "Let's Make a Deal" here.

This is the first experience I have had with Mommy painting. Every four or five years Mommy paints. Foley has been through it before. Usually she likes to see me stumble into trouble. But she knew how much trouble there would be if I caused a paint spill so she told me what ever room Mommy is working in stay out of it.

Before I continue with my story let me point out that I am only six inches tall. That leaves a lot of door to be painted that can not get on my fur. I mean why even paint the bottom six inches of a door? What human sees it? They never look below the knob anyway. I have consulted with Foley, and while she agrees that it was entrapment, she won't take on Mom.

Mommy was painting the closet door by the kitchen door while Daddy was out. First of all when ever anyone comes in the house I am right at the door crack waiting to see who it is. If it is Mommy or Daddy then I stand on my back legs in excitement. But I don't have great balance on my back legs. I am not Nancy Grace for heaven's sake.

So this is what happened: Mommy had painted the closet door while Daddy was shopping. I did not go near her. Then she moved on to the laundry room door. Foley and I were sitting in the living room, just chilling, when I heard the car door shut. I knew it was Daddy and I ran to the door brushing up against the closet door.

As God as my witness no one told me paint needed to dry.

Mommy yelled at me. I turned around to see why she was yelling at me. Then she yelled some more. Daddy, carrying the bags, looked down at me and said "Oh Pocket."

Along both of my flanks (I think I have flanks) was white paint. Also my whiskers were covered in paint. Oh my gosh I got painted by a door! Daddy said I looked like Colonel Sanders but I am a peace loving dog and don't want nothing to do with no war. He was all like, let's take a picture, let's take a picture but Mommy had already picked me up and began carrying me to the tub for the dreaded bath. And boy did she scrub. I don't think this was a let's get the dog clean scrub as much as a frustrated scrub. I hope you have never been the victim of a frustrated scrub. It's very aggressive.

Mommy didn't get it all off. Which means Daddy got his picture but it's only of a little paint. While Foley agrees with my position she won't sue Mommy because she's a big wimp. Are there any other dog lawyers out there?

Sigh. Well, take this as a lesson my friends, no matter if you paint a door or are painted by a door you're the one getting the sad smack of shame.

K9 Kamp the Final Challenge: Katch Daddy if you Kan

2011-10-11T22:09:00.005-04:00

Daddy put me down on his chair the last day of K9 Kamp. It was on a Thursday. It was a cool day and there was a heat wave coming. We had to complete the challenge today, present our Travelocity gnomes to Phil at the finish line, and find out what trip we had won. Daddy told me that this would be a simple challenge. We would get the flexy leash. We would then walk to the back of the Village of the Pruned where there is a cul-de-sac with four homes.

Daddy picked that spot because there wasn't much traffic, a large circular area, and not many people to witness what could be another incident of K-9 Kamp Komedy.

Koly suggested other activities we could do from previous camps. Daddy and I read them but the only one I was interested in was jumping the dime and some pups didn't feel that was much of a challenge but I swear according to the math, using my body size and weight, and Koly's, my dime is just as big as Koly's log.

Come Thursday morning Daddy leashed me up. Foley barked and barked because these Kamp hijinks have become the high point of her week, but Daddy insisted it was just me and him.

It was cold, for that one day, and the wind was blowing in my face. We were using the flexi leash which we never use but Daddy kept me on a short leash which I think is illegal and against the purpose of the flexi leash. We got to the circle and Daddy said that he was going to run and I had to catch him. I nodded. Daddy released the lock of the flexi leash and he began to run.

And I ran right along side him. Daddy wanted me to jump on him and catch him but he never wanted me to do this before and I didn't know if this was a test. Then I saw something darting to my left which was bad because Daddy was on my right. I ran right in front of him. He tripped over me and stumbled forward but didn't fall down. I kept running after this object on my left and jerked Daddy to see the side when I reached the end of the leash.. But he still maintained his balance. And I saw that the object of my affection was a blowing piece of newspaper.

Daddy looked at me with that look saying we were not getting the Travelocity Gnome. "You have to run straight Pocket, even if you don't catch me, we have to run straight."

"Roo-ray" I said

We ran to the other side of the circle and when we got to the end Daddy clapped his hands and I jumped on him and he said that counted for catching me. Oh boy! The trip to Arruba was within our grasp.

Then something terrible happened. We ran in the other direction and a leaf blew across the road. I crossed in front Daddy again and he kicked me like a soccer ball. I yelped and rolled and Daddy stumbled and dropped to his knees and picked me up and let me lick his face. He told me I had to stop crossing in front of him.

He tried running with me again but I wasn't feeling right from the kicking and rolling. He then picked me up and I trembled like I do when Foley and I are being left alone.

He patted my head and told me that it was all right. We were done with K-9 Kamp for the year. But what about meeting Phil at the mat? The Travelocity Gnome. Is the dream over?

Daddy carried me home. We sat down on the recliner together. We were both sleepy,. I told Daddy I was sorry I ruined K-9 Kamp and he told me he was proud of me because I am a little dog and did the best I could.

I snuggled up to him. He told me it was nap time. I said we should do K-9 Knap Kamp. Daddy told me we would certainly be the K-9 Knap Kamp Khamp. Then we fell asleep together.

Ruger Ru is our October 9, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-10-09T21:34:00.000-04:00

Whenever we are blessed with a new life in our families it comes with a promise, not a guarantee, but a promise. A promise that we will be able to watch this little life grow, that we will have years of love from it, books of memories, countless smiles. But sometimes this promise is broken, and when it is it steals something from down in our soul.

There was a lot of promise in Ruger Ru. He marched into his forever home, shortly after Tanner Bub, a legendary dog, went to the Bridge. He was not brought in to replace Tanner Bub, no dog could. He was brought in to sprout new buds of love in his family's heart, and that goofy little puppy took to that job like a duck to water.

Ruger Ru was more than just the family dog and Cocoa's new brother, he was part of our family. We were there they day he arrived home and, through pictures and video, we all watched him grow up. We laughed about his antics the way we laugh about the way other people's children drive them mad. He would eat what he shouldn't eat. Sometimes a couch. Sometimes a bit of Mom. He certainly kept Foley Monster Attorney at Paw busy.

Like most promises, when they are broken, no one saw it coming. Ruger was fine one day, a little sick the next, and gone the third. He had suffered a diaphragmatic hernia. It was, more than likely, something he was born with, and undetectable until the unthinkable happens. The diaphragm tears, and the stomach, liver and other internal organs press against the heart and lungs.

Expensive emergency surgery needed to be done at a hospital four hours away and Ruger's chances were only 20% to survive. Because this was a birth defect chances were high it would happen again. Ruger may have survived, but the Ruger we knew, the happy, bouncing baby boy, there was little chance that pup would survive. So his parents made the hardest decision of all. And for the second time in less than three years they had to put down another beloved pet.

His Mom found out that all the dogs in his litter had suffered similar fates. The diaphragmatic hernia is common in litters where the Mom has been over bred. Sadly there is never anyway for a Mom to know this. And sadly we come with no guarantees, just promises, and as we have learned as a group, whether it be by rescue, adoption, or purchase, there is no way to bring a pup into your heart that is less riskier than others. Some dogs like our beloved Doxie go to the bridge at 18, and others like Ruger go at two. It's why humans estimate our average life span at ten years.

After my sister Blake died in 2001 Mommy and Daddy brought three dogs into our homes over seven years, all who died at less than four years of age. We don't know what happened with Jax the Pappilon. He got sick one day, and the doctor said he had a strained shoulder. He died the next day, at the age of three, not from a strained shoulder. Copper died in her crate one morning, her little heart gave out, at three and a half. And little Skye passed at less than a year, from something no one could diagnose. Promises broken, all. Each time Mommy and Daddy said never again. And each time they reached down in themselves and found a reason to believe that their next dog would fulfill the promise. So far Pocket has provided four years, a pretty good record for this vicinity. So Mommy knows the hell that Aunt Trudee is going through and she prayers that Aunt Trudee finds, when she is ready, the ability to open her heart again to a dog, because she is a great dog Mom, and there aren't many of those in the troubled world.

So this is for our friend Ruger Ru, we miss you, we love you, and you will always been in our heart.

I'll remember you too clearly
But I'll survive another day
Tug ropes to share
When there's no one there
I'll imagine how'd you play

I'll see you in another life now, baby
Come see me in my dreams
But when I reach across the galaxy
I will miss your company

Company
I'll be looking for company
Look and listen
Through the years
Someday you may hear me
Still crying for company

So now I'll go one and live my life
And I will home up my heart for a friend
But it'll never be the same
And I know I'll never have one like you again
No, not like you

I'll see you in another life now, baby
Come see me in my dreams
But when I reach across the galaxy
I will miss your company

Company
I'll be looking for company
Look and listen
Through the years
Someday you may hear me
Still crying for company

A big thank you to Leo the great gift giver

2011-10-07T22:28:00.000-04:00

There is nothing Pocket and I enjoy more than our walk through the Village of the Pruned to the mailboxes. We are so excited that there might be something for us. Most days we only find the same silly human missives. We aren't disappointed. Before we're back on the ramp we're excited about what the next day may bring.

And then it happens. Daddy says "a package for Foley and Pocket." We drag him back home like we're champion dog sledders. Daddy dismisses the human missives and reads who our mail is from. He says it's from our brother Leo the Lion, Leo the Brave, Leo the Generous, and his wonderful Mom.

There were two personally made Bauser bandannas and two personally made Bauser Halloween bandannas. There were also two tennis balls (which Pocket has already hidden behind or under something,) and four plush toys. What a haul! Leo you are truly a wonderful friend. And yes, we have pictures.

These are two photos of me wearing my bandanna. I am being my cranky self so it was hard to get my picture because of my turning, and lying down, and being a diva.

I hope they show off the bandannas properly. And of course I am perfect. Any problems should be blamed on the photographer. Nice going Daddy.

Here are the Pocket pictures

I think you get a better sense of how beautiful Bauser's bandanna is in this picture. I think in my picture.my beauty draws attention from away from the bandanna while Pocket's "everydog" look draws attention to the bandanna

And here is the picture of Pocket with all the swag Leo sent us and you can see what a wonderful dog Leo is.

One final time Leo, thank you. And I know what you are thinking. Thank you Foley for not posing with the swag so everyone could see it. No need to thank me Leo. You're the best. Love you. Chow.

K9 Kamp Part Four: One Step Up Two Steps Back

2011-10-04T22:59:00.000-04:00

It took us a long time to begin this week’s challenge. First, Daddy needed days of therapy after last week’s challenge. Also the weather was hot and humid. After a steady rain last night it had finally cooled and we were ready to begin the next leg of K-9 Kamp.

I was excited to hear about the jumping portion of this week’s challenge. I love jumping. But Daddy does not. It brought up bad memories.

When Daddy was in middle school he had a fitness test. Part of the test was jumping rope. Daddy was not very good at it. To compound the problem his teacher kept yelling at him “Come on Gay boy jump rope, jump rope.”

In this week’s instructional blog Koli gave us good news: Daddy did not have to jump rope. Koli said how great it has been for him to learn to exercise with his Mom. Except for the walking exercise Daddy and I haven’t done well with that, unless you count his stumbling, running, and carrying me a joint exercise.

Daddy thought we were supposed to jump on a curb. But here in the Village of the Pruned we do not have curbs. They are the number one cause of Prune People falling and not getting up. So Daddy had a brainstorm (Daddy’s brainstorms are like summer showers with the sun out, it doesn’t produce much but it’s rather pleasant.) We would open the screen door and jump from the enclosed porch landing, over the threshold, and on to the kitchen floor.

Daddy got my leash, took me outside to pee, he brought me back inside, gave me a treat, and I waited to be unleashed so I could go lie down, but I did not get unleashed. Daddy brought me back to the porch landing. “OK, Pocket, let’s jump!” he said as he jumped over the threshold into the house. And I watched.

Daddy sighed. He told me to do it again. When he jumped I went in. And kept going pulling him forward to the treat jar, because I had been out again and was deserving.

Daddy was frustrated. He went back to Koli’s blog. He realized that he should have picked something that was appropriate to my size to jump over. Koli, a large puggle jumped over a log. Daddy figured my height and weight, compared them with Koli, and found the equivalent jumping challenge for me: a dime.

Oh we had fun. Up and over the dime. Back and forth. What a work out, and it only cost ten cents, ten cents people, order it now!

Well we completed that challenge! Score one for us. Then we started on Stepping Out. We went back to the enclosed porch and this time Daddy stepped over the threshold and I watched.

He tried to get me to step up. I wouldn’t, and when I did, I would walk forward. I got very confused. For months I would walk in a house and get unleashed then get a treat. But now I was walking in the house and then going back out like a stuttering mess. In Goodfellas Joe Pesci shot a guy for this type of thing.

Daddy got a new toy Leo sent us that squeaked and I did a few up and downs because I wanted it but I lost interest. Daddy took the leash off since we were inside. He got some kibbles and fed them to me each time I stepped up, but when food becomes involved Foley gets involved and she kept getting in Daddy’s way trying to nibble the kibble. When Daddy ran out of kibble Foley and I went to the Lovekibble Seat and watched.

He then leashed me up, we went outside, and we ran to the end of the street, and then Daddy began running back and I sat down with no amount of coaxing getting me to move. So I got carried back: quickly.

The we went back to the doorway. Daddy began stepping into the house with a high leg kick like he worked for the ministry of silly walks

As he did it he kept giving me instructions: Sit, down, stand. Heavens! Make up your mind. I did it a couple of times but did not want overdo it. That last thing I need is a Daddy with delusions of grandeur.

He then took me off the couch, leashed me, we went outside, and I ran with him to the end of the street. When we reached the end of the road Daddy stopped to tell me what a good job I had done, looked down the road, and saw, separated about six feet each, were my poo droppings. Hey, I’m not the one who fed me all the kibble. And he had not brought any poo picker uppers.

Nothing brings the prune people outside like poo near their lawn. It’s like zombies hearing a gun shot. They come stumbling down their driveway chanting “poo poo poo poo.” Daddy hurriedly carried me back telling the prune zombies he would clean the mess then, after putting me inside, grabbed some paper towels and walked back up the street picking up the poo. (May I suggest for next year’s challenge the human poo pick up is very good, bending, squatting, cursing, cleaning, it’s quite the aerobic work out.)

We did finish the challenge by jumping over the dime again which was fun. I thought it was quite a good challenge for me, I got fed, I got to run, I relieved myself, and I made a dime. I hope everyone else had as successful a Kamp.

Ginger Dash and Dulce are our October 2, 2011 Pups of the Week

2011-10-02T21:56:00.003-04:00

I don’t like to admit how lucky I am. I would rather come on the Internet and complain about life. Saying how wonderful your life is doesn’t make for good blogging. So I tend to highlight what doesn’t go so well.

But I am a lucky dog. For the last eleven years I have been able to live with my Mommy and Daddy. But it doesn’t work that way for all dogs. Sometimes, no matter how much they love each other, or, at least, loved one another, they can’t stay together any longer.

My Daddy isn’t my Mommy’s first Daddy. Wait, that isn’t right. Humans relations always have me confused. Mommy had a Daddy before Daddy. Oh gosh I am confused. Who is Mommy’s Daddy? OK, there used to be a guy who slept with Mommy that wasn’t Daddy. Maybe a hundred. I don’t know. I am going to have to lie down soon.

But as for me, one Daddy, one Mommy, living in wonderful co-dependent bliss. But for our pups of the week, Dulce and Ginger Dash, their Moms and Dads decided that life would be happier for everyone involved, including the pups, if they lived apart.

This can be so hard on us pups. We like routine and when we move, or someone moves away, our routine becomes disrupted. But at the same time that little signal goes off in our minds, like the one that goes off in vampires minds on True Blood when someone who they drank from is in trouble, and we go into help because the reason we are on this rock is to be Mommy’s little helper. The signal to help overrides the loss of routine until we forget what the routine ever was.

Even though all break ups are terribly painful for all involved Dulce’s Mom and Dad seem to be agreeing on going forward in the best way possible for everyone involved, including Dulce. He is going to spend time with both his Mom and Dad. Shared custody is hard enough to work out with kids, it is nice to see them working it out with their dog. Although it is very sad it so far seems like there won’t be a bloody war and Ducle will get to spend time with both parents.

Ginger Dash’s parents split was not so amiable. Ginger suffered from one of the worst things: When Daddies go bad. He became mean and abusive to Ginger’s Mom. I know many of our Mommies have gone through the same horror, We are so concerned with abused dogs that we forget how many Moms here have been abused.

Ginger Dash and and her Mom had to run to her Mom’s house for their on safety. They had to leave behind Ginger’s siblings, Bit, Doodle, Scooby and Sam. Bit is Hattie’s sister Jackie Lynn’s birth Mom. Ginger Dash’s Mom, via our last communication with her, has not been able to convince Ginger’s Dad to give her the Ginger’s siblings. So far he has given her little cooperation. Ginger and her Mom are such special friends and we know they are going through a very difficult time. If she wants help to get her siblings back all Ginger has to do is ask us and we will raise a Brigade for her.

I think Ginger is going to need to lean on us more than Dulce but we are going to be here for both of them. You both need to take care of your Mom, especially you Ginger. She has gone through some very hard times and there are lots of Mom here who have gone through the same thing. And we will pray for peace in the families of both Ginger and Dulce.

Foley fights for her intellectual property

2011-09-29T22:43:00.003-04:00

Many of you may not know that Pocket and I were members of Doggyspace in the early days of the site. We had a difference of opinion with the owner and we ~~had our tiny butts barred from the site~~ left the site. Not to get into specifics, it's just that we stuck up for a friend, wrote a blog on our personal blog page that ~~made the owner look like a senseless boob~~ criticized the owner and we got barred. The former owner ~~was a senseless boob~~ did what he thought was right.

Anyhoo when we were ~~thrown off~~ left the site we also lost all the blogs we had written. I urge all my friend here to make sure they copy their blogs and save them because if you can't get on DS you can't get to your blogs.

Some of the members who have been here for a long time might remember one particular blog that we wrote. We became angry that female dogs had to share the same term with women who are not nice to people. Us female dogs are caring, loving, beautiful beings and should not have to share a term with selfish, mean women. Our blog proposed that female dogs, from this day forward, be known as lollipops,

On our Tanner Brigade site, and on our Foley Monster and Pocket Blog, we have been referring to female dogs as Lollipops for more than two years. Then I returned to Doggyspace and recently read a post where someone tried to post the word b-tch. Well the word b-tch does not come up. You know what does come up? Lollipop!

The new owners of Doggyspace may not be aware of this but I, Foley Monster, am the most respected dog lawyer in the country. I have got hundreds of dogs off from charges ranging from biting, to peeing, to chewing an entire couch. I am using this blog as a cease and desist order. The word lollipop in reference to dogs used on any web sits is the intellectual property of Foley Monster and may not be used without the express written consent of Major League Baseball or General Foley Monster. Since I don’t have a lot with intellect attached to my name I am ready to fight over this. If you do not I am going into my drawers, taking out my briefs, and throwing them in your big faces, and when humans get faced with my briefs they tremble like lollipops. Drat. There it is again!

I understand that your auto edit must use something to cover up the dirty words. May I make the following suggestions: Skittles, Gummi Bears, Everlasting Gobstoppers, Necco Wafers, Reese’s Pieces, Double Stuffed Oreos, Ho Ho’s., Ring Dings, Little Debbie’s, and All Day Suckers.

I have returned to Doggyspace in peace. I am not looking for trouble. But the word I picked to honor us beautiful girls who are so sweet and lovable and cuddly has now been turned by your auto edit machine into something that means the opposite. Please change it to one of the words I suggested and then I will be happy and content. \

If not then you are going to get my full lollipop on. Drat! There it is again. Pocket! Where are my briefs?

Failure to Lunge: K9 Kamp Week Three

2011-09-27T23:01:00.002-04:00

I am ashamed to admit that I came in last place in this weeks K-9 Kamp challenge. Daddy said he wanted me in the Kamp to work on my discipline. I don't know if it was my failure to curb to the discipline or my fear of Daddy's unnatural acts that conquered me on this challenge. but during it our family was plagued with two questions. Why is Daddy lunging, and why is he vicking in the front yard?

I was really psyched when I heard that that this weeks challenge involved a tug of war. I am excellent at tug of war. The way we play is that Daddy kneels on the ground, I pick up the tiny pull rope that fits in my little mouth, and he pulls it gently. I make this very ferocious growling sound. Sometimes Daddy pulls the tug toy too hard and it comes out of my mouth. Sometimes I hold on and he swings so hard he swings me and I let go and fly into the couch, if I am lucky.

Daddy always sits on the floor when we play tug of war but for this challenge he was standing up which means he had to lean way over to play with me. I was very worried about him falling on me, but I am an agile dog and even if he had fallen I could have scooted out from under him. But then he did something he never did before. He lunged. I ran from the living room where we were playing into the kitchen.

"What the hell is he doing?" I asked Foley who was sitting in the recliner.

"He's lunging, Foley said.

"Come on Pocket, don't be afraid," Daddy said. He picked me up and brought me back to the play area. He moved the chew toy back and forth so I became interested.

I bit down on it. He stood. We were playing. The he lunged.

I ran back into the kitchen. Mommy came out of the bedroom. Both Foley and I were barking loudly. "What is going on out here?" she asked.

"Daddy is lunging!' Foley said as I stood in the living room and barked.

"Why are you lunging?" Mommy asked him.

"It's part of K-9 Kamp," Daddy said huffing. "I am supposed to play tug of war with Pocket while lunging."

Mommy said that Pocket was too small to play Tug of War with a lunger. She gave me the toy to chew on and she sent Daddy into the bedroom to go lunge himself.

After he was done he realized he could have stopped tugging and let me chew and lunge on his own but he was done lunging which we were all happy about. He then told me it was time for us to run. Since Mommy does not want me outside because of the birds of prey and we do not have a cellar we would have to run on our one floor.

This I liked. We ran from our bedroom, to the front bedroom, through the living room, kitchen and hall past Mommy who was making Monday morning breakfast when, after the second passing, she asked Daddy what the hell he thought he was doing. Daddy told him that we were to run for two minutes between exercises. "Not in my house," she said.

Daddy began to say it was part of Kamp but Mommy still said no. He asked if we could go outside with a leash and she said yes. Daddy put the leash on me, we sat in the driveway, and we played tug of war with no lunging. Then Daddy and I started walking in the thick soup late September humidity. Then Daddy began running. I dug in my heels and said "are you drunk?" Daddy kept running , dragging me behind him, going, "come on Pocket, come on Pocket, oh please Pocket come on." Unh-uh. It was 85 degrees, hot, humid, and Sunday was my day to rest. Plus I hadn't even had breakfast. Daddy dragged me to the end of the street. When he turned around he picked me up and carried me back to our lawn

Daddy was breathing hard, his face was red. He put me down. He grabbed the toy and weakly waved it in front of me. He then began to get into a sitting position, then stopped and I realized what was happening. I pulled the leash from Daddy's limp wrist and ran to the porch barking for Mommy "Daddy is taking a vick on the front lawn, Daddy is taking a vick on the front lawn, and now he's fallen in it.

Before Mommy could respond Daddy was back, picking me up and running through the humid air carrying me up the street and then back down again. I asked him why he vicked in the yard and he said he was doing squats. Right, and next time I pee on the rug I will say I am just squatting. Humans. He made it to the end of the street, and the staggered back to the lawn. He fell down on his hands and knees, then lay on the ground. He grabbed the chew toy in one had and told me he was going to do push ups while playing with me. I backed away from him because he looked very pale. "Fine I will just do the push ups alone," he said, he did one, then collapsed on the lawn. Then something wonderful happened. Mommy said it was time for breakfast and I ran to the door while Mommy yelled at Daddy's prone body about not holding on to my leash putting me at risk of being carried off by a misguided carrier pigeon.

The good thing about living in the prune village is every 20 minutes or so someone needs an ambulance. A spare one stopped by to pick up Daddy and dropped him off later in the day. He slept again all day Monday. I will try to do better at Kamp next time. Sorry that Daddy scared me.

I have to go now, Foley and I need to recharge Daddy's defibulater.

The Malatesta Pups are our September 25, 2011 Pups of the Week

2011-09-25T21:34:00.003-04:00

There is a movie called The Great Escape. It was made when all those old or passed Hollywood stars were young and good looking. In the movie a number of prisoners escape from a Nazi prison camp. A handful stay free from capture. Others were captured. 50 were executed. The movie was based on real events. To a generation, when you mentioned "The 50" it meant something. The 50 were being transported back to the POW camp when they were told to get out of the transport trucks and stretch their legs. When they did the Nazis gunned them all down before they knew what was happening.

Now we have the Six. The six dogs belonging to Paula Malatesta. A week ago she had a heart attack. While she lay in the hospital family members, without her consent, made the decision to take them to surrender them to animal control. There the Six were killed while their Mom lie unaware in her hospital bed.

When she found out her condition worsened, but thankfully the doctors were able to get her back on her feet. She then dealt with those still living, along with her outstanding friends who helped find homes for them, provided homes for them, provided transportation, set up and contributed to a chip in for her, showered her with words of faith and love, showing that there is no online communities like the online dog communities because these communities are based on love.

Wishbone is at his new home with Annie and Blossom. Max is at his new home at Boudica's house. LeAndra also is going to her forever home. Miss Paula then will go stay with Aunt Cheryl while Puppy and Khan go to the vet's to be kept safe while she decides her future. So now, with the lyrics to the old song "The Streets if Laredo", are The Six, our Pups of the Week, may they always run happy, free, healthy, and carefree at the Bridge, and may they never know the harsh touch of the evil that inhabits some men.

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo

As I walked out in Laredo one day,

I spied a young puppy, all wrapped in white line

Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay.

Chiwennie, with us only eight months.

"I see by your outfit, that you are a puppy."

These words he did say as I slowly walked by.

"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,

For I'm shot in the chest, and today I must die."

Charlie Bear, 10 year old Shih Tzu rescued because Paula did not want him to die in a shelter. He died in a shelter without her consent.

'Twas once in the saddle I used to go dashing,

'Twas once in the saddle I used to go gay.

First down to Rosie's, and then to the card-house,

Got shot in the breast, and I'm dying today."

Yacotaco a sweet chi, doxie mix

"Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,

And play the dead march as you carry me along;

Take me to the valley, and lay the sod o'er me,

For I'm a young puppy and I know I've done no wrong."

Gravy, a Matleepoo destined for his forever home September 24. Put to death before her got there.

"Get six jolly puppies to carry my coffin,

Get six pretty maidens to bear up my pall.

Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,

Roses to deaden the clods as they fall."

Walter, who slept with Paula's special son Donald.

Then swing your rope slowly and rattle your spurs lowly,

And give a wild whoop as you carry me along;

And in the grave throw me and roll the sod o'er me.

For I'm a young puppy and I know I've done no wrong."

Brandon, Paula's special heart dog and companion and friend to us all.

"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water.

To cool my parched lips", the puppy then said.

Before I returned, his soul had departed,

And gone to the round up - the puppy was dead.

We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,

And bitterly wept as we bore him along.

For we loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome,

We all loved our comrade, because he'd no done wrong.

Looking at the pictures all I can think of is the words of Jim McKay after the death of the Israeli athletes at the 1972 Olympics. "They're gone. They're all gone.'

We need to make sure nothing like this occurs again. I have a couple of ideas. One is that we have lawyers set up a pet proxy like a health proxy. A pet proxy would give control of our pets to someone we select the same way as a health proxy would give a person control over your health when we are incapacitated. There would have to be some legislation on the state level where pets could not be put down without someone either proving that they are the rightful owners of the pet or that they hold the proxy.

Also there should be some legislation in every state that animal control can not put down a surrendered pet for 72 hours to make sure that the person who surrendered the pet had the right to make that decision. This would also have to be done through legislation. I am not a political person, or one well versed in law, so I am not to give advice on how to accomplish this, and some of you may have better ideas on what can be done to make sure that no one has to suffer the way Paula had to suffer.

I have seen what this group can do, in helping with transports, and with finding homes, and taking in pups, and transporting them, I know there will be some great ideas, and miracles will occur. We shall never forget Paula's Six and vow to do all we can to try to heal the wounds in her heart and to show her that their is love and forgiveness in this world and people willing to work and fight together, because, while the darkness does win some battles, and leaves us with extraordinary pain, inevitably, the goodhearted shall win the war.

Foley Monster's new song for her friend Brody and Brody's Mom

2011-09-24T22:10:00.002-04:00

*Foley comes out and sits behind a microphone with her guitar*

Hello, thanks for coming to the Foleytini Tiki Bar. I hope you enjoy the Foleytinis. This has been a hard week for all of us. Very sad. So I decided to write a song that will hopefully make you smile. Or you might find it offensive. It is a song about where I sleep during the day, my home. It looks like this.

Now, if you are easily offended, or do not like a parody of a Dylan song from the 60's that repeatedly mentions female genitalia this song may not be for you. So I will give you a chance to pay your bill and go. Don't forget to tip your waitress.

OK, thank you. This song is for Brody and his Mom Candice. I would be honored to sing this at the new baby's christening. OK, it goes like this.

Well, I see you noticed my brand new leopard-skin vagina condo
Yes, I see you noticed my brand new leopard-skin vagina condo
Well, let me tell you baby
How sleeping feels under somethin’ like that
Under my brand new leopard-skin vagina condo

Well, I look so pretty in it
Honey, you can join me anytime
You can come and look around
See that it's that expensive kind
You know you can lay across it
Your Mama's mattress ain't as soft
Let’s bring it up to your Daddy’s loft
My brand new leopard-skin vagina condo

Well, if you wanna see the sun rise
You need to put it on the other side of the chair
If you want to see the sunset
Mommy's got to put the vagina on the rocking chair
Me with my harness
Wrapped around my waist
And you with your new pink coller
Sitting in my brand new leopard-skin vagina condo

Well, I asked Brody’s Mom if he could see it
It’s bad for his health, she said
Yes, I disobeyed her orders
I invited him to see it
But she showed up instead
You know, I don’t mind her coming to my house
But I don’t like her taking up all my bed
Inside my brand new leopard-skin vagina condo

Well, I hear Brody wants to be my boyfriend
You know, I never smelt him before
Well, I saw him
On the Internet
He forgot to turn on the fire wall
You might think he loves me for my tail
But I know what he really loves me for
It’s my brand new leopard-skin vagina condo

K-9 Challenge Part Deux: Go Fetch Yourself

2011-09-20T22:46:00.000-04:00

Good evening, I am your intrepid reporter Foley Monster here to report on the second leg of K9 Kamp 2011. This weeks challenge is called "Go Fetch Yourself." The task required that the human, in this case Pop, and the dog, my sister Pocket Dog, play a simple game of fetch. But the fiendish planners of the K9 Kamp created a Road Block to hamper the contestants completion of their task. In this Road Block not only would the dog be fetching the ball but the human would be fetching it as well.

Before the task a power greater than even the organizers of the K9 Kamp themselves threw in a road block of her own. That power: Mom. When Pop told her that the task required him to throw a ball for Pocket, and for Pocket to chase it, and this task was required to be done outside, she immediately put a stop to it. She refuses to ever let us run off leash because of predatory birds in the area. She is afraid that we could be carried off by a turkey vulture, hawk, owl, or eagle that populate the skies. Truthfully, Pocket is such a tiny thing, a pigeon on steroids could carry her off. Mommy made her ruling: Any ball fetching would have to be done inside.

"Inside!" Daddy said. "What am I supposed to do, go back and forth from the living room to the front bedroom?"

"I don't care what you do but you are not doing it outside."

As always, Mommy's word was final. On Thursday Mommy went to get her hair done. Daddy didn't even think about taking Pocket outside. Mommy had birds flying overhead to bring Pocket to her if she went outside for a second without a leash. Daddy got the ball. Pocket barked and danced excitedly. I sat in the recliner with the stop watch. I yelled go. Daddy threw the ball and they both gave chase.

The ball went under the table and Daddy tried to grab it but Pocket got it first. The next throw he tripped over a chair. This wasn't working. Then Daddy had a thought. What if they were on the same level? He got down on his hands and knees. He threw the ball, and then he quickly crawled after it. Pocket did too but seeing Daddy she stopped, turned to me, and said "what the hell?" I told Pocket it was part of the challenge and she had to keep going. Daddy got under the table first and threw the ball back towards the bedroom and Daddy and Pocket took off after it.

Soon they were both having so much fun. Racing each other on the floor for the ball. Pocket was barking. Daddy was smiling. I was amazed. This was the dumbest thing I had ever seen a human do. But he kept going, for about ten minutes, until he realized, that, sweet, fancy Moses, his lungs were exploding, his knees felt like they were shattered, his back throbbed, and he was about two minutes away from dying. He wanted to stop.

"No quitting!" I yelled. "You got ten more minutes. Keep it up maggot. Crawl. Crawl like the bug you are!" I would be an excellent coach on The Biggest Loser if I wasn't so afraid of being sat on by an enormous behind.

By the 30 minutes he was pulling himself forward by his forearms, sweating like a Kardashian on DWTS, The buzzer went off and Pocket and I dragged the defibrillator out of the kitty condo. We revived him with sweet licks and electric shock. He crawled on to the love seat and didn't move the rest of the day.

The next day he said he would go for 15 minutes but at the ten minute mark he crashed into Mommy's swiveling recliner and lay motionless for three hours. We skipped Saturday. On Sunday Daddy took three shots of five hour energy, dropped back down to his knees, and lasted ten minutes.

Monday Daddy refused to play even though he only had ten minutes to go to complete the challenge. This morning Pocket and I chewed up some caffiene pills and spit them in his cereal. He swallowed them down. Then he hopped up ready to play. He kept crawling back and forth, past the ten minute mark when I told him he could stop, past the 20 minute mark when he wore out Pocket, passed the 40 minute mark when Pocket and I had both fallen asleep. When we awoke an hour later he was under the table snoring loudly. He hasn't woken up since. Hopefully he will wake up, and be ready to crawl again, before the next contest.

Paula Malatesta: Champion Dog Rescuer in Hospital Her Pups need Our Help

2011-09-20T13:00:00.000-04:00

Paula Malatesta, a Hall of Fame dog rescuer has been stricken by a heart attack and is in the hospital. She will no longer be able to care for the dogs in her shelter. I have copied a DS blog authored by Jake the Snake that explain her situation and what dogs need homes. If you can help let us know.

This is Ann, Jake's mom. I just got off the phone with Paula.

She sounds good but very tired.

She went into the hospital Sunday night and she expects
to go home Thursday or Friday.

I asked if she would like calls
and she said yes.

The hospital is Lake Norman Regional Medica
l Center, Mooresville, NC.

The hospital number is 704-660-4000.
Her extension is 4233.

You can ask for Paula Maletestra.
I had to spell it and I was close so
they let me talk to her.

She said she can keep 4 dogs and she
needs homes for these little ones:

(An aside...I am having foot surgery on the 29th
and I won't be able to walk for at least two weeks
and then not drive for a while longer
so I won't be able to be too much help with physical stuff
but I can do coordinating, etc.)

Princess Dyan (called Chewinie) Chi/Dashund mix,
8 months old, spayed female

Walter, Chi, neutered, 5 years old

Taco, Chi/Dashund mix, neutered male
(forgot to get age)

Gravy, 1.5 years, Maltese/poodle male,
neutered

Charlie Bear, 10 years old Shih tzu,
male, heart murmer, almost blind
(Paula just wanted him to have a home
and not die in a shelter)

LeAra, small black pekinese, female,
neutered (Paula would like to keep her)
(forgot to ask age but I think young)

Max, small black pekinese, male,
neutered

Paula wants to keep Brandon, Puppy and Khan
because they are "her dogs."

Just to clear up one point....Paula said her husband
did not call and yell at her about the dogs
but she said she has
not heard from him. He talked to her daughter.
Basically she is alone here and she does
so much for doggies that I wish all the doggies
she has helped could get together and help her!

If anyone has any ideas, let's hear them.

Post Tags: paula

Foley Hopes to Make Some Celebrity Friends

2011-09-19T18:48:00.000-04:00

As some of you know I am an administrator of a site called The Tanner Brigade. It is a small Ning site that our members can send invitations to people we want to join. We like to think of it as a small town with close knit friends, Doggyspace as the big city where you can meet thousands of dogs, and the blogging world as an entire country of dogs.

One of my friends is a fan of the books of Dean Koontz. He often uses dogs as characters in his stories. He even has a series of books about a talking dog, which is kind of silly. Us dogs can talk just like you humans. We just don't have anything important to say.

Now we sent an e-mail to Mr. Koontz asking that he have his dog on the Tanner Brigade. We haven't heard from him since. But we are keeping our paws crossed

That got Pocket and me to thinking, and Pocket to napping because while her thoughts can blaze high into the night they don't last too long. But as long as the Pocket fires were burning I took advantage and we made of list of other dogs who belong to celebrities that we would like to invite. We are now sharing this list with you.

Alexander Skarsgard's cockatoo: We hear that the True Blood star has quite an extensive bird collection. We would love to have his cockatoo on our site. If he can't do that then we would settle for a cockaone.

Scarlett Johansen's kitty: I recently learned that her kitty pictures are all over the Internet after her phone got hacked. Her kitty shouldn't be all over the Internet. So lets give her a place where she can put her kitty pictures for everyone to see.

Sylvester Stallone's Italian Greyhound: This poor little fellow. We hear, back in the day, his trainer used to give him these shots to make him big and strong, run fast after the rabbit and win races. Now that he has got older the greyhound is a little shriveled, receded, and has back acne. But we would still make a wonderful home for him.

Anderson Cooper's Silver Fox: I must say I have never seen this fox. I don't look at the TV a lot. But whenever Anderson Cooper comes on TV Mommy says "oh look at that silver fox." I look up right away but the fox must be fast because it scurries away. Let's give him a home so everyone can see him.

Donald Trump's Squirrel: I am not a big fan of squirrels but this is the closest human - pet relationship I have ever seen. No matter where he goes The Donald goes he takes that thing on his head. And I bet he's got some good stock tips too.

Eric Dane's Great Dane: The Grey's Anatomy Dr. McSteamy is said to have a very Great Dane. Somewhere on the Internet there is said to be a video of this Great Dane playing with a non Scarlett Johansen kitty. Like her kitty we would like to put Dane's Great Dane on our site.

Brad Pitt's Monkey: I honestly don't know if he has one. But with all the kids he has adopted at one point someone must have thrown in a monkey. You know, adopt five kids, we give you a monkey. That's quite an incentive to take the fifth kid. You might be leaving the country with four kids and someone says hey if you take fifth one you get a monkey and you got to take the monkey. Right? So I want his monkey on my site. Period.

Lily and Izzy are our September 18, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-09-18T23:00:00.000-04:00

I believe Pocket noticed it before I did. We were curled up asleep in our leopard skin vagina condo when Pocket sat up and began to sniff the air. I told her to sit down but she said there was new pup smell in the air. I lifted my scenter too, and she was right, there was new pup scent in the air.

We climbed out of our condo. The first thing we noticed was that the air in the Brigade had finally cooled. That's probably why we snuggled up so much. Hobo was already up, drinking coffee and supervising the cats as they were building a fire to keep us warm. We asked him if he smelled the new dog but he said all he could smell was coffee and kitty litter. (How many of you thought I was going for the cheap double entendre there? Oh you know me so well.)

We walked over to where our members sign in but no one new had posted. But there was definantly new pup smell in the air. We went to Hattie Mae's place but she had the "No new dogs allowed" sign up she had ever since Jackie Lynn moved in.

We were perplexed. We went sniffing around. Cheyenne still had the new dog spell but it wasn't Chey. Wasn't Jackie Lynn either, she smells like sewing material and dresses now.

"How about Lily's place?" Pocket asked. I shook my head. Lily is a wonderful pup who is always taking in foster pups with her Mom. But there was no discussion of them taking a new one. We decided to head over there anyay.

But first we stopped. Pocket peed on the deep green grass. Then I peed over her. Then she came back and peed where I peed. Of course I went back and peed. We did this for about a half hour.

Then we headed over to Lily's and son of a gun if the new dog smell didn't get stronger. When we got there a white dog that looked like a big Lily was there, but didn't smell like Lily, and had a red rocket. We sniffed him. This was definately the new dog. And he did not have TB membership.

I told Pocket to scare the dog off. Pocket got up on her back legs and went Grrrr, Grrrr. The dog silently laughed. Pocket then nipped at her. The dog silently laughed harder. We were going to need a bigger dog.

I asked this dog who he was and he began to move his paws up and down and back and forth, touching his ears, his nose, his muzzle. Pocket ran and slid in the dirt because she thought she had been given the sign to steal third.

Then Lily popped out and I told her this strange, strong, silent Bichon had invaded the Brigade. Lily said no, this wasn't an invader, it was her new brother, and apologized for not signing him in.

"Your new brother?" Pocket asked looking at this dog. "He must weigh 20 pounds. What a horrible delivery for your mother."

"No," Lily said patiently. "You know how we give foster homes to dogs who need a temporary home, well this wormed his way into our family's heart."

"Oh that's too bad," Pocket said. "I had something worm it's way out my butt and I was on slop for a week." Lily smiled. She has a lot of patience with Pocket. We all do.

"No, I meant that he made us fall in love with him. Like your family fell in love with you the first time they saw you."

"My parents fell in love with her when it was either love or admitting $1,000 of ill spent money," I said. I walked up to the new dog and asked his name then jumped back as he started his judo movement with his paws.

"What is up with him?" I asked ducking and weaving.

"He had his barker taken out," Lily explained.

"Oh the poor thing," I patted the new dog's nose. "Who would take out a dog's barker, what a horrible thing." I said

The dog began to paw the air and his face again. "He uses sign language," Lily said. "I'm learning it. See when he puts his paw to his mouth he wants to eat, when he stamps his left leg he wants to got outside, when he stands on his back leg he wants to be picked up."

"What's it mean when he stands up on one leg and shakes his other three paws?" I asked.

"It means Pocket peed on our paws," Lilly said waving her paws trying to dry them. "Sorry, too much water this morning," Pocket said.

"Well I want to welcome this wonderful, barkless dog to the Brigade." I said bowing to him. "Our motto is freedom to bark but geeze there are somedays I don't mind the silence." Lily nodded knowingly.

Pocket walked up and asked his name and the dog started to paw the air again. "He can't talk Pocket!" I said, frustrated with my little sister. Pocket put her head down. I put a paw on her shoulder. She's not smart be she doesn't mean any harm. I asked Lily what his name was and he said "Izzy."

"Izzy," that's a nice name I said. 'I wish it was my name," Pocket said. "Izzy Gay, what a cool name." Oh Pocket.

Then Lily asked us if she could trust us with something and I said of course. She took us to her play area and showed us the dogs she was fostering. There were five dogs there in all. I had never known Lily took care of so many dogs. I would so proud of her I nipped Pocket to bring tears to her eyes because someone should be teary eyed.

And that's when I decided it. I called Lily to stand by Izzy. Pocket got my scepter. I put it in my mouth, touched both their shoulders, and shouted at them that I was making them both my Pup of the Week for September 18, 2011.

Lily thanked me and reminded me I didn't have to shout because her brudder was mute, not deaf.

"Izzy?" I asked laughing. No one else laughed. Sigh. I went back to my page and laid down to sleep. Boy this had been a long week.

But congratulations to Lily and Izzy. You are our very deserving September 18, 2011 Pups of the Week.

Foley Monster's Job Program for Humans

2011-09-14T20:48:00.000-04:00

Good evening my fellow dogs and your devoted humans. The humans, both Republican and Democrat, Tea Party and I Party, independents and politically lazy, have brought themselves to the brink of disaster by mismanaging their country to the brink of kibblenomic ruin. In the past four years since humans have ruined their economy they have proven themselves unable to find their way out of their financial hole.

If anyone knows about holes it is dogs. We dig them. We fill them in. We bury things in them. In World War I my forefathers were sent into holes to check for explosives then crawl out of the hole and then give the solider 1,000 kisses as he giggled in delight. So I, representing dogs everywhere, am here to present our job plan for you humans.

What all humans agree on is that there is nothing more precious than a dog. While most industries have suffered during the economic downturn one industry that has shown profits is the pet industry. People are spending more for food, clothes, toys, gifts, spa treatments, day care, dog walkers, health care and other dog related accessories. People have shown time and time again that, while they do not have money to afford basic items for themselves, they will spend on their dog.

So I am introducing the country's first dog orientated jobs bill. We have to get America back to work. What we have is unemployed people and dogs that need homes. So let's pay people to start taking care of these dogs, working in shelters, learning how to train dogs, learning and teaching about proper dog nutrition, becoming dog walkers, and someday providing homes for dogs who would be put to sleep without a home.

If someone adopts a dog we will pay for the first five years of food and veterinary bills. We will also give them a weekly stipend. Now we know there are some conservative members of Congress who won't want to raise taxes to pay for this. To convince them we are going to have Sarah McLachlin filibuster that sad song and show the pictures of the homeless dogs over and over again until they break. I say it should take about ten minutes.

Now with more people owning dogs this means that there will be more need of dog services. More groomers, more veterinarians, more toy makers, all helping small business. I propose tax breaks for any business that starts a company concentrating on dog products, and relief from student loans for those who become veterinarians. Also we will offer tax breaks to all businesses that allow dogs into their stores so when humans go somewhere they don't leave their dogs behind.

To show that I am not afraid to reach across the aisle and embrace bipartisanship we will be offering tax cuts and incentives for those who take in homeless kitties too. Not as much, but we do want to recognize you crazy cat people too. We will also offer you free psychological counseling.

I envision a country where every dog has a home, and every human knows the joy of living with a dog. We are the guardian angels of all humans on this planet, and every Americans life with be better if the owned just one of us.

So I am asking Congress to pass this bill now and for the President to sign it. You need to recognize that we are the superior beings, after all, we don't clean up after your poop do we? And if we can get you to do that then we can get you to do anything can't we?

Just follow our plan. You will thank us later.

TWIB Notes

2011-09-12T22:50:00.000-04:00

If you have been following the story of Disel, the dog who lived across the street from the Carny Dogs blog author is continued here.

Love and a Six foot Leash has an update on one of the dogs they fostered: Lily. You can read about it here.

Ashley Hill Owen does her usual outstanding job on Lucky Dog Rescue. She asks you to imagine what it is like to be an unloved dog. Please check it out here.

Did you hear our friends Koli and Felix ran away. Oh the dumb twits. I am so mad at both of them. They are home safe and Mommy needs to fix a fence. Of course the entire thing was their Daddy's fault. You can read about it here

Here is a very sad story of a friend I never knew I had. Here The story of Kona who went to the Bridge on September 3.

Kirby the Dorkie recognizes all the hard working dogs out there in his Labor Day blog.

There is another friend we did not know we had who needs our help. It is from the HoundDogMom and the Hound Dogs blog. Cleo is in desperate needs of good thoughts and prayers. You can read about it HERE

Another Kirby the Dorkie story. You can read how he saved a bunny Here

The Dogs of Brazil give us two things we love, puppies playing and a new reason to root against Michael Vick here

Cindy Lu gives her blog to her friend Penny who tells the wonderful story of a boy and his dog growing up together here

There is a wonderful adoption story about a kitty named Dillon here

Blazer is our September 11, 2011 Pup of the Week

2011-09-11T21:21:00.000-04:00

On 9/11 what would be more fitting to recognize a dog who's Mom used to be a 911 Operator? But that is only one slight reason for recognizing our shy poodle friend. I remember Blazer as my first friend on DS. It was so long ago I can't remember for sure but I know my first day as a social networking dog was spent sending messages back and forth with him.

Blazer and I have been great buds ever since. We like to get together in our dreams and run, play tug of war, chew on bones, and snuggle in the Maiden Lillies. We have both been on this Earth long enough to remember the terrible events ten years ago this day, and we've also climbed to the top of the hill, and now that we have started the long ride down, we are going to enjoy the view together.

Blazer is a very shy dog so I am sure some of you have not been as lucky as I have been and know him like I do. But whenever there is a dog who is sick, who needs some extra kibbles to get better Blazer is ready to sift through his meager kibble and always find some to send to some poor pup who needs it.

When our patron saint for Moms', Aunt Jackie, got sick with lung cancer, I knew that Blazer's Mom had survived the horrible disease. When we mentioned that Blazer's Mom could be a comfort to Miss Jackie during her ordeal Blazer's Mom e-mailed her and they continued doing so until the sad end. Blazer and his Mom have endless empathy for all us dogs and Moms.

Also Blazer and his Mom are great listeners. When either Pocket, Mom or I need to vent one of the strongest shoulders we rest our weary heads upon belong to either Blazer or his Mom. Better friends you could not have.

Because Blazer doesn't blog (he doesn't believe in his abilities to write, which is just silly) he flies below the Tanner Brigade radar. But he is always one of our most active members. Just check out the events section. Whenever we have a party Blazer is there with food, balloons, gifts, all the party favors we need.

And when one of us is sick, and need to hear kind words, Blazer's ears perk up and he trots rights over to his friend's profile with kind words and caring. There are Moms on this site who have spent hours on the phone being comforted by Blazer, who whispers in his Mom's the comforting thoughts our friends need to hear.

Blazer has never asked for a thing from anyone. When he was featured in one of Aunt Connie's Hump Day Funnies, well, let me tell you, he was nearly bursting with pride. Him and his Mom ans their kitty Kimber are an inseperable family. They have been the perfect snuggle family since the first day Blazer was rescued.

Last week we celebrated Bauser as Pup of the Week, and it doesn't seem like a week. Days fly by. It has been ten years since Daddy came home and said all he wanted to do is to take me and Blake Bear for a walk then we went to our human sister Kim's new house to play with Bailey. Thinking back, it doesn't seem that long, but for us dogs, it's more than half a life time.

Age is starting to catch up with Blazer. The days have flown by. Some health problems have crept in. He hasn't said anything, he is a shy and private dog, and I have violated enough of his trust for one day, but Blazer and his Mom does need the power of the Brigade, our good thoughts and prayers.

Blazer, you know Pocket and I love you, and you are a very deserving pup of the week on the anniversary of the day when we all came together and leaned on one another and understood, and looked out for one another, because that is what you do, and we are proud to call you our brother. Here is to many more days for you our friend.

Day One of K-9Kamp. The 60 Minute Daddy Drag by Pocket Dog

2011-09-10T20:48:00.000-04:00

Aunt Jodi, mother to our wonderful friends Kol and Fe contacted Mommy two weeks ago about the K9Kamp, a series of exercises for dog and parent. When she was contacted Mommy was sitting in the spinning recliner with Foley. Mommy has bad arthritis which was aggravated by a car crash and Foley is round bellied and lazy (when she's drunk she looks like Snooki) so they schemed to sign me, who is in Kardashian shape, and Daddy, who is in Jenner shape, for the Kamp without telling us.

Well we love Aunt Jodi, Kol and Fe, and there is nothing we wouldn't do for them. We have a wonderful, comfortable new love seat because she stole our old couch, a larcenous act but one that led to more snuggle for me so all is forgiven. So I told Daddy and he said the quick prayer he says daily: "Oh Jeeeeesus!"

Our first task was to walk for 60 minutes on Thursday. But we awoke to loud boom boom in the skies and a river of water washing over our little home. We stayed under the roof covering our walk way to do our business. We didn't go under the rumbly skies all day. But Friday was a new day.

I woke up Daddy and told him it was time for him to take me to K9-Kamp. He told me that the Kamp wasn't a place but an idea. Human logic continues to gobsmacl me. After we had breakfast Daddy put on his sneakers, his tube socks, my harness, then he took it off and put the harness on me, and we set out.

Daddy has walked around our People who smell like Prunes Village and one time around the perimeter, a word I learned watching Hogan's Heroes, was 20 minutes, so three times would be an hour. NASA, he is available. So we started out on our walk. Well, he started on his walk. I started on my sniff everything within the perimeter (thanks Colonel Hogan.)

So at the start of the walk I sniffed, and sniffed, and turned, and sniffed, and turned, and then I decided to use the K9-Kamp Golden Power of Crappo. The Golden Power of Crappo gives the holder the ability to crap in the middle of any challenge. I played mine early on in the challenge to cut down on the weight I was carrying.

Then there were the speed bumps. They were not actual speed bumps, they were impediments placed in the challenge to keep me from completing it. The first were the humans who were also walking. I, like most dogs, am absolutely breathtaking. I know when I see a human walking they are walking to come play with me. So I bark, pull on the leash, make Daddy do the arm jerk where his arm is going this way and that as he tries to control me. (This is an excellent aerobic workout for him.) About half the people stop, which cuts into our time, but what can I do? This is why the Queen of England does not run marathons. She would never be able to finish with all the well wishing she has to do.

Then there are the dogs who are walking. We bark at one another and do more arm jerking to help Daddy. We don't stop for the dogs. Daddy wants to stay on schedule. I barked at them that I am doing a challenge and would smell them tomorrow. Then there are dogs that are stuck inside. They barked their angry curses at me to get off their lawn. I barked back that I was on the road and they did not own it. The more we walked the better I felt. But the more Daddy walked the more he began to slow down and I had to drag him. Then, as I began our last trip around the prune village we had a road block.

Foley Monster. The Queen Diva herself. It was like being in the last mile of a marathon with a healthy lead and being saddled with Paris Hilton who wants to go shopping. Foley had to sniff where she wanted to sniff, bark at who she wanted to bark at, and use the golden power of crappo when she wasn't even holding the medallion.

Foley may have been able to complete the challenge ten years ago but now all that sniffing and barking takes a lot our of her. Halfway through Foley was dragging me down more than Daddy. By the last corner I was dragging Foley like I was cleaning her anal glands and Daddy like we were finishing the Iditarod.

Finally I got home and drank a bowl of water. The challenge was complete. I had conquered K9-Kamp and was champion. Then in his last words before he fell asleep Daddy told me there were more challenges to come. Oh man. I'm just a little dog. How far can I carry this old fool? I guess you will have to keep following to find out.

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A Care package from Josie Koda Wills and Sophie Bub

2011-09-09T16:57:00.001-04:00

It has been raining for days here so we haven't been able to get mail with Daddy. But each day there was mail for us. A birthday card from Hobo. Two cards from Hattie. But yesterday was the mother load. We got a CARE package from Josie, Koda, Willa and Mrs Sophie Bub. The card said the package was for Mommy and Daddy because the bad news Murphy had moved in with us. It was incredibly sweet and made them both very happy. The card said the toys were for our parents except for the green bones for our teeth. But the toys were obviously for us. To everyone but Mommy and Daddy. They both got down on the floor, took the tennis balls we received, and nosed them back and forth at one another and barked when the balls came near them. They then got out the long, plush, squeaky toys and walked around the house for a half hour with the toys in the mouth squeaking endlessly. Did any dogs every notice how annoying that constant squeaking is? Finally they gave us our green bones. Here are a couple of pictures showing us enjoying them (Foley enjoyed them so much she got the devil eyes.)

I am sorry the pictures are out of focus but Mommy and Daddy were out tuckered out from playing and could not focus.

When Mommy and Daddy became so tired they fell asleep we took the toys and hid them deep inside my leopard vagina kitty condo so we can play with them, which we believe was the original intention.

So thank you from the bottom of our Yorkie hearts and our parents' hearts. You brought some big smiles to sad faces. Mrs, Sophie Bub, Willa, Koda and Josie you and your parents are king of the hill, top of the heap, and we love you.

And remember, sending us gifts does not guarantee that we will write a blog about how wonderful you are, but it never hurts.

What I have learned in four years by Pocket Dog

2011-09-07T21:23:00.000-04:00

I have learned many valuable lessons during my four years in the Monster Pack. I am a truly unselfish dog and I would like to pass on what I have learned to my friends. I do not claim to have originated these lessons so please, either use them yourself, or claim them as your own on your blog.

1. It's better to hold the phone than to get a kidney stone. If you have to go then you have to go. You should give your Mom and Dad some warning, like walking past the outside door, but if you create stress on your bladder it could have untold consequences.

2. Always get the snuggle spot. Define the snuggle spot in your house. In my house it is in the recliner, on my Mom's left side, in between Mom's body heat and the soft cushion of the recliner. This is easy for me being a wee dog. For you larger dogs I strongly suggest you speak with your Mom about getting a love seat, preferably one that reclines. If this is not possible a couch will do. But, if you are forced to use a couch suggest your Mom eats a lot of cake. A big butt will give you that recliner feel.

3. If you have a sibling make sure they are the loud one so they bark for food at the dinner table. Foley's first sister Blake taught her to bark for food. I quickly learned to sit silently next to Foley and shake my head at her actions, but when my humans break down and gives us scraps I accept mine gratefully then sit there silently while Foley barks for more. I get treats, I don't strain my barker, and I come off as the good dog.

4, Rule to live by. She who bit it shit it.

5. Keep your eyes on your humans as much as possible because you never know when they will slip away.

6. Keep the ball rolling. When you pick it up drop it forward, nose it around the room, and when it stops bark at in until a human appears and throws the ball. If you can keep the ball moving forward the fun never stops.

7. Every single person or animal you see on your walk is there for your amusement. The humans are there to scratch and pet you. The dogs are there to sniff and lick you. The cats are there for you to intimidate with your mighty growls. The chipmunks and squirrels are there to be scared of us like we are a great white shark. So what ever you see on your walk bark at it until it plays with you or runs from you. Any other result is a waste of a walk and a disappointment to the beings that are looking for interaction with us.

8. We are the only specie that can take a dump on someones' front lawn and get another specie to pick it up, put it in a bag, and walk around with it until they find a trash receptacle. That is power my friends.

9. Who said we have to pee on the grass? The grass is often wet, our piggy toes need to be dried off, and it is painful and humiliating. Pee in the road. It's not wet, you won't get dried, and the worst you need to worry about is gravel on your whowho.

10. When playing Words with Friends with the Labbies be ready to prove you know the meaning of words. That is not really the tenth thing. The tenth thing is when you sleep under the covers with a farty dog like Foley it can get fumy.

7th Heaven the 7 Blog Challenge

2011-09-05T21:22:00.001-04:00

Awhile ago Kolchak and Felix challenged us to find blogs we had written that matched the categories listed in bold. We have written more than 400 blogs so it took us awhile to find the appropriate blogs. I am not going to challenge any specific bloggers but if any of my friends want to try the same thing, it is fun. If a little time consuming. Hope you enjoy.

1. My Most Beautiful PostWalking With Tanner With My PawsTen Feet Off the Ground From 2009 Foley Monster walks with her best friend Tanner Bub on his trip to Rainbow Bridge.

2. My Most Popular Post New Home From May of 2009 this was the first blog we wrote. It explained why we were kicked off of Doggyspace, the arrogance, the ignorance, and the cruelty of the former owners, and a tribute to the friends we were leaving behind.

3. My Most Controversial Post In Which Foley causes an international incident Foley was patrolling the grounds where she lives when she sees a kitty she believes is breaking into a neighboring home. Their altercation become an international incident that ends with her having a meeting with the kitty at the White House.

4. My Most Helpful Post Ask Aunt Foley Foley Monster takes actual questions from actual dogs unless she makes them up. She then gives advice based on her 11 years of life. Valuable advice on how to keep fooling your parents and getting out of trouble.

5. My Post Who's Success Surprised Me The First Ever Video of Pocket Playing Ball We have never used video in a story before, and haven't done it since. So this video of Daddy trying to to get Pocket to catch the ball in her mouth, with a guest cameo from Foley Monster herself, didn't make us believe it would get a lot of views. But it did. And it is still the only place to catch two of the Internet's favorite Yorkie in action.

6. My Post that Didn't Get the Attention I Feel it Deserved TWIB Notes When I read a blog I really like I link it to Facebook and Twitter, then leave a comment, and copy the URL to include in my weekly TWIB (This week in Blogging) notes blog. It's a way to check out some great blogs. But not one seems to be reading it. It's like have a library with all the great works of literature and no one reading it. I wish more people would give it a looksie.

7. The Post I am Proudest of Levi surrenders to General Foley Our experience on Doggyspace was not a good one. We found the former owners rude and crass. When we set up our own breakaway site we hoped, but did not expect, that we would make any difference, and maybe we did not. But if we helped drive the former owner away, and make DS a better place for blogs, we would be very happy indeed. This blog is about the former DS owner surrendering to General Foley based on Lee's surrendering to Grant at Appomattox.

Bauser is our September 4, 2011 pup of the week

2011-09-04T22:12:00.001-04:00

We are here on September 4, 2011, the fourth anniversary of Pocket's birth, to recognize a pup who enjoys acknowledging the achievements of others, who writes blogs about them.. But this dog's name is neither birthday girl Pocket or older sister Foley. No, our pup of the week is our most entrepreneurial friend, the creator of his own thriving bandanna business, the wonderful Bauser. Do you have a Bauser bandanna? If not then stop right now, go to this site ( Bausers Bandanas), and order one. You will not regret it. The Bauser bandanna business started as a way to raise funds because Bauser had back problems. He needed money for surgery, and he put his long head together with his Mom's and they came up with the idea for the bandanna site. Bauser bandanna's are one of the coolest items a dog can own. A Bauser bandanna makes the lollipops go crazy over a sharp dressed dog and the lollipops pop up on the best dressed lists at the doggie spa openings. And the best part of the story is that Bauser raised more than enough money to pay for his operation. And he lived happily ever after. At least until a couple of weeks ago. On August 23 Bauser had another very bad day, something we had hoped was gone for a very long time. Bauser was panting, pacing, and not listening to commands. His Mom became very worried that her nightmare was starting again. His Mommy noticed that he was not walking normally and rushed him to the vets. Bauser had another slipped disk that was herinated in c4 and c5. He was given more pills to take, which seems to be humans answer to everything. Break a bone take a pill. Also his heart mumur had grown slightly. The next day thanks to the doctors Bauser was feeling better, even trying to run, which wasn't the best idea, given his physical problems. As long as we have known Bauser, and I believe it is close to four years now, he has been a fighter. And he's had the perfect Mom next to him cranking out the bandanna They did an official Tanner Brigade bandanna just for us, so if you don't have one, and would like one, you can check out Bauser's site and get yourself one. From a little idea about making bandannas to defray costs on DS Bauser has built his kibble business into a million dollar enterprise. He should be hired by the President So we raise our glasses to Bauser. We hope we feel better and stay that way for a long time and may your bandanna business reinvigorate the economy. Congratulations Bauser - our Pup of the Week

Blog-ja-vu and thank you too

2011-08-31T20:47:00.000-04:00

I need to talk with my senior pup friends for a second. I just wrote a blog about Mommy's car accident. When I got finished it seemed familiar. Then I realized: I wrote the exact same blog two weeks earlier I have blog-ja-vu. Has this ever happened to anyone?. Maybe I should cut out the Foleytinis and start paying attention, start listening to Mom, start following the rules and commands - maybe it is a new day for Foley Monster where I am like Caesar says, a happy, balanced, unspoiled dog who knows they are a dog. Maybe when other dogs see how well adjusted I am - not being spoiled rotten - they will want to be like me and be well trained and obedient too. Maybe it will change all the dogs on the Brigade, all the blogger dogs, dogs everywhere and we will have a better world between dogs and man!

Nah!

Anyway Mom wants you to know that she is healing up fine after her car accident. OK, she has stopped looking over my shoulder so I can tell you the truth. She is more full of Vick than the Giants defensive line after their first quarter of football (hopefully) Mommy is still hurting, some physically, and even more emotionally. She doesn't want to drive, she doesn't even like to ride in a car. Then again she rides with Daddy who is known at Cut Off Gay which I pray to the Lord means he is a bad driver. She is still very jumpy, even in bed, as is Daddy, so Pocket and I spend most of the night bouncing around the like a cat at a flea circus.

Things are a little unsettled here. Plus the first day of school was today. This is the first time in 18 years she was not working on the first day of school. She is like Bret Farve but without any money or downloaded genitalia. She'd like to get back in the game but no one will give her a ball. But hard times come and hard time go and hard time come and hard time go just to come again.

So like so many other on the Brigade we are going to hold on tight and ride out the bad time. We have Pocket's birthday to celebrate: Four years without an accident. Four years of peeing on the floor out of pure laziness. And when times get hard we find our little playground here and find the best friends in the world. No hurricanes, no earthquakes, but we're still shook up, and like last week, we have our friends to help us ride out the storm and get to safety. So thank you friends, we would be completely lost without you.

The Hurricane and Earthquake Dogs are our August 28, 2011 pups of the week

2011-08-29T22:29:00.000-04:00

This one is for all the northeast coast lollipops and big boys who had to survive two made for TV movies: "Holy Seismograph - The Great Northeast Earthquake" and "The Hurricane that blew New York" this week. This includes both Me and Pocket, Hattie Mae, Smartie, Fella, Jackie Lynn, Nigel, Mollie, Pokey, Maggie, Willie Nillie and Jesse Belle and all other east coast dogs who had the earth move under their feet and then nearly blown away by a mighty wet, wild wind known as Irene.
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And let us not end our praise here. For we must remember those who did not get shook or blown, those who could only sit and fret, those away from the storm, subject to listening to the increasingly alarming predictions of doom from our national news agency. The messages we received of support were enough to lift us up so we could surf over the air currents and stay as safe as the birds. Truthfully, I don't know about the other Hurricane Pups, but we did not go air surfing, we rode out the storm under the covers in our bed. Nothing bad happens to us under the bed covers except for bodily functions.   If they are ours then we just roll out of the wet spot. If it belongs to a fellow bed dweller than that is what the top of the covers are for.

We all got whacked by Irene at different times. I think that Hattie, Nigel and Mollie got hit earlier in the day. Willie Nillie and Jesse Belle later in the day, and Maggie and Pokey, along with us Yorkie sisters, late at night. I don't know which was worse. Being able to see the wind and the rain, the branches snapping, the water pounding; or to be in the dark, hearing the wind howl and whip around the house like a beast tied to the porch, shaking the building with every lunge.

Mollie lost electricity, television, Internet, all communication to the outside world. And on her birthday! What a terrible way to spend your birthday when all the rest of your friends are mad partying. Nigel's family were evacuated from their home and and stayed with a 92 year old Aunt. They were able to return to their home after the hurricane with no ill effects from the storm. We are still waiting to hear if they had ill effects from Hurricane 92 year old Aunt. Hattie Mae kept her electricity and power because she is such an important dog they tripled up on the wiring to keep her going. Not even the National Grid wants to face off against Hattie Mae.

It also spared Willie Nillie and Jesse Belle. While neighbors around them got their street flooded and downed power lines they came through unscathed. Then Irene turned her eye towards me and Pocket, and Pokey and Maggie. When we went to bed it was raining little and windy. We woke up in the dark with the wind howling, the rain pounding, and our little hearts beating. Daddy got up and I heard him shut the front door. Oh, what was crazy nut job doing?

But he was just bringing in a couple of plants that blew over. They woke up when the alarm went off at 9:00 AM but Daddy looked at the rain slamming down and the wind bending every living thing and decided to snuggle with us in bed a while longer. At 10:30 they put on the TV to see what was happening with the storm.   The weatherman was blubbering on for a few minutes and then the power went out. With an electric stove and electric hot water heater they both said they should have got out of bed earlier. Blasphemy!

But we did get up. Daddy got his phone and I lay on the floor with him while he tossed the ball for the oblivious Pocket.   We were able to tap out a blog for our friends and check on their fates to see that everyone had survived. A little while later the lights came back on but we did not get our cable and Internet back until 10:00 at night because a huge tree just north of our park entrance crashed down on th lines.

I was very upset because I couldn't do pup of the week, beat this caption, or question of the week. Mommy told me I could do them all on Monday. But Monday is my lie in the sun after working hard on Sunday day. Man this Hurricane wrecked my whole schedule.

This week pups of the weeks are those who have been both shaken and stirred and then many, many pups who cared and prayed for us,, and the angles at the Bridge who kept the worst of the storm away from us.

Thank you all.

TWIB Notes: This Week in Blogging

2011-08-26T21:43:00.000-04:00

Kol's Notes has a great way for us to remember the pups we have lost

Ashley Hill Owen writes another heartbreaking story of love, loss, and redemption in her Lucky Dog Blog .

When you are done with that blog continue on to her blog about a dog named Lucky. And if you like to contribute to the Lucky Dog Rescue click here.

Carny Dog shows us what happens when dogs laugh.

After lots of searching on the streets of Brazil the Dogs of Brazil blog reports the finding a the missing little white dog.

Life With dogs gives you tips on what to do if your are confronted by predators while walking. It does not include my first choice, run like hell.

Minnie and Mack tell how they survived the great quake of 2011.

The No Dog About It blog recounts a dog parents worse nightmare.

Life With Dogs reports about the fate of Hawkeye, the military dog who became a You Tube star when he would not leave the side of his master's coffin.

Having had PTSD become a huge factor in our lives, and seeing how dogs can help, this blog from Mutterings and Things hit home for us.

Another meeting with the Ning Weasels does not go as planned

2011-08-25T16:04:00.000-04:00

Last month Pocket and I got a strange tree mail. We both sniffed it for about ten minutes before we could decipher it. The message was from the Ning Weasels who wanted their money.

This was not a problem. Last year the Brigade raised so much money we had a nest egg. It's very important to understand the concept of the nest egg. I had it hidden in Pocket's Triangular Kitty Condo. Just before Christmas I went to check the nest egg and it wasn't there. I asked Pocket what happened and she said she lost it. I was livid. I wanted her to admit she lost it. Say it! Say it! Say "I lost the nest-egg." Go on, say it! Then Pocket looked behind the sofa and found it. I took it and kept it in the Leopard Vagina Condo (which is bigger on the inside then the outside.) I had no trouble finding the nest egg. It was in a safe behind the Van Gogh.

Pocket and I downloaded ourselves to the seedy part of town where the Ning Weasels hang out. "Hey pretty thing nice tail," a beaver lying near a dumpster whistled.

"Watch your mouth and keep you eyes off my tail!" I barked.

"Not looking at your tail," the beaver hissed.

"Oh thank you!" Pocket said walking towards the beaver. "I try to keep it clean, and I lick it all the time so it looks fluffy." I nipped her in the ear and told her not to fraternize with the vermin.

(Heavens, her tail is cropped and mine isn't. My tan and brown hair mixes together like a beautiful bouquet. I have a wonderful tail. Beavers know nothing about tails.)

I pushed Pocket into the Weasels hideout. They were playing pool, others dealing cards, one was playing Tom Waits on the piano. The air was filled with cigarillo smoke. The head weasel motioned for me to come to his table.

We sat down. Behind him two of the thickest weasels stood with their sharp paws folded in front of them. "You bringa the money?" the Weasel asked.

I put the nest egg on the table. He slowly counted it. "It's short," he said.

"Short?" I asked. "This is the same amount we paid last year."

"We went upa on the payments, we need a more of your a money."

"What do you need more money for?" I asked.

"It's a because of all the new features we added," one of the thick weasels behind the main weasel said.

"What new features?"

"If you go to our Main Page you can see how to upload pictures from you phonea right to your site. And we got that little box that you can say whatch'a doing and if you fill that out and got a Twitter Account it shows up there. Itsa nice feature."

"Oh that does sound nice," Pocket said before I nipped her.

"Look, we don't need none of that stuff, and we're a private group so we don't want to be linked up with Twitter and Facebook so why don't we just go back to out original settings and pay the original price."

"It no work that way you pay what we say you pay."

"Can I ask you a question?" Pocket, who was the last dog in the world I wanted to ask a question, asked. "Why do you all talk with Italian accents?"

"We watch the American TV and all the tough guys they talk the Italian."

"So you're not Italian?"

"No actually we are French, but no one gets scared when you talk French. Listen: We would like some more money from you, while you think it over can we give you some bread and a glass of wine?"

"You're right," Pocket said. "You're much better going with Italian."

The Weasel nodded and told us we had to take $50.00 more out of our nest egg. I sent Pocket to get it while I waited with the weasels. I knew I could handle myself with the weasels if things got violent and I knew Pocket would pee on all their Weasel Scooters.

While waiting I played cribbage with the weasels. A penny a point. After several hands I stopped trying to convince them that an eight and nine did not equal fifteen and neither did a Jack and a four and hoped Pocket would bring extra to cover my losses.

She returned with the extra $50.00, the weasel counted it, smiled, and said the Brigade was paid for another year. I asked him if the amount would change next year.

"It'sa always gonna go up. That's the price of doing business, dog," he said.

Pocket and I got up and left, ignoring the cat calls about our tails. Damn cats.

So I know we said that we were paid up for three years, but we only have $80.00 left in the nest egg and we cannot lose the nest egg. So come next spring we might be asking for donations again for the weasels. As always, we find a way to sponsor those who can't pay, and it still should be $5.00,

And you all will be amazed to see how a Brigade can make a nest egg grow.

Sierra is our August 21, 2011 pup of the week

2011-08-21T23:01:00.000-04:00

While us pups are the most wonderful beings the good Lord ever blessed upon this Earth we do have our bad qualities (although we are never supposed to mention them.) The wost one is that we are selfish. Like a little slope nosed who has first learned to speak what we want is "Mommy!" Last week we celebrated Pokey and Maggie for giving up time with their Mom while she does transports. I know I hate when my Mommy is away. I fall asleep, I wake up, I don't know if she is coming home or not, it's terrible.

But you know what is worse than not knowing when Mommy is coming home? When she comes homes with another dog. That means sharing and we weren't built for sharing. The thing about new dogs is they walk in the door and they automatically think everything belongs to them. This is a big difference between us and humans. When a human enters your house he doesn't pick up your toys, put them in his mouth, walk around the house, and squeak, squeak, squeak. But dogs! They just walk right in and everything belongs to them no matter how long it has belonged to you. New dogs upset everything. Your entire schedule is ruined.

This week our pup of the week, our wonderful friend Sierra, let a new dogs in her house, or, at least, did not get too upset when one was thrust upon her. And this one that was thrust for the most special reasons. This dog, who we will refer to as Tiger, because that's his name, was on death row for the crime of having no one to love. But Sierra's Mom, who is a warrior for all us pups, saw Tiger and she could not resist but give him a chance at life, and either a temporary, or permanent home. While Sierra was not thrilled, having yet to get over the appearance of her brother the Blob two years earlier, she could not let this poor pup die to protect her toys.

Then something just awful and scary happened. The shelter where Tiger was being kept could not find him. They were afraid there was a problem in the paperwork and Tiger had been sent to the Bridge. But they found Tiger safe and sound. You can't blame the people at the Shelter. There were just so many poor dogs there.

The only other test was to make sure that Tiger could co-exist with Sierra, which is as simple as an ice cream sandwich, and Nase, which is like trying to get along with an inflatable Pocket. At first Tiger reacted badly but the people at the shelter said he had cage rage from being locked in the cage so long. This is not to be confused with age in the cage which was a really bad wrestling match between Roddy Piper and Hulk Hogan about ten years ago.

It didn't look like Tiger was going to mix with Sierra and Nase at all but when he was let out of the cage he was a different dog. There weren't any high five and welcoming hugs but everyone proved that they could co-exist under the same roof as long as is needed.

So tonight q furry little face sits in a house, smiling, instead of lying lifeless, because Aunt Vicki saw him and took a chance on him. As did Sierra, and Nase too. It is wonderful that people take in homeless dogs like this. It is too bad they can't do it with human people, but dogs rarely slip out during the night with your liquor and anti-depression medication.

We have named Sierra our Pup of the Week for August 21, because for the second time in two years she has had to learn to share her home and her Mom with a new dog and that is never easy. And Aunt Vicki you are certainly our Mom of the week, and you will be nominated for Mom of the Year, Decade and Century. Nase, you are like Pocket, as long as you get your love, your food, and your walks Mommy could bring Qaddafi into the house and you wouldn't mind. And Tiger, I sure hope you are a good boy and you fit in perfectly, and if you find a new forever home then bless you on your way, and if you stay where you are welcome to The Brigade.

And some day, if you stay with us, you will be our Pup of the Week. But for August 21 the Pup of the Week is your new sister Sierra.

August, 16, 2011 TWIB notes. This Week in Blogging

2011-08-16T20:34:00.000-04:00

The Dog Carny Blog knows what dogs whisper to one another when they get close. Boy does it set off fireworks.

Speaking of fireworks you can visit our friend Joyce's Boston Chomper blog. Joyce is Mommy's nephew's wife. There are pictures of Mommy's nephew Andrews with Joyce and one of them and Mommy's niece Amanda. This isn't the July 4th cookout that Mommy and Daddy went to, it's another one that I told Joyce not to invite them to.

The Dogs of Brazil continue trying to raise funds to keep their no killer shelter and clinic going for the many street dogs of their country.

Pet Pardons has reached it's 10,000 pet posting this week. Read about it at the Lucky Dog Rescue blog. Stop in and thank Ashley and her partner Chris Hoar (no, I didn't make it up, but Mommy married a guy named Gay years before Gay marriage was legal in Massachusetts so who am I to talk) for their great work and remember to advocate for these poor pups on death row.

Our friend Aunt Jodi was challenged to write a blog containing links to her best blogs and she did it in Kol's Notes Blog. I love her for doing it. Then she challenged me to do it. Now I hate her.

Please keep your eyes open for the Possum Gang. Pictures of them can be found on the Talking Dog Blog.

Gardening with Wyatt took us to the Portland Flower Gardens.

Today is Kol's first Tasty Tuesday blog hop and Tucker Tells All informs us of his favorite treats.

Aunt Wendy and the Labbies Save the Day

2011-08-15T20:38:00.000-04:00

This morning Mommy went out for a Doctor's appointment and to run some errands and we were left home with Daddy. She had been gone for awhile when his phone rang. We could just barely hear her nervous voice on the other end. Daddy stood suddenly, the lap top falling to the floor, scooped us girls up, slipped Pocket into her crate, put me in the bedroom and hurried out the door.

We were both very concerned. We heard Daddy's car come back a half hour later. Two doors shut so we were hoping she was with him. When we got out of the bedroom we found she was. But she was smelling like fear, and sadness, and frustration.

While crossing a busy intersection on a curvy street in the pouring rain Mommy got broadsided by a pick up truck that crushed one of the loves of her life, her silver Honda. She got checked out by the paramedics, and the police, and they were all very nice to her. One of the neighbors got a seat for her to sit in. Daddy got there and saw that her silver Honda baby was in very bad shape. We are hoping it's all right but it didn't look good.

So Mommy was very depressed, angry, and frustrated. Daddy had to run an errand for his Daddy and he stopped by the mailboxes on the way home. Inside was a package addressed to us from Aunt Wendy, and the Labbies for no other reasons except that they are the sweetest dogs and she is the sweetest woman in the whole world. It was like they knew Mommy was suffering and went all the way across the US to put something in her mailbox to make her smile. Which it did. Here is what they sent.

And here is Pocket modeling her new shirt

We can't express to Aunt Wendy and the Labbies how much their random act of kindness meant to us on this dark day. When tears were in our eyes your wiped them off. We have all made bad decisions in our lives but one of the best was partnering with the Moms and Pups in this Brigade. No matter how low we get one of our Brigade members reaches down and pulls us up.

Thank you so much Wendy and the Labbies, you will never know how much you mean to us. Even if, somehow, in Friends With Words, every word she plays has a V in it.
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Pokey and Maggie are our August 14, 2011 pups of the week

2011-08-14T20:55:00.000-04:00

Not only have we forgiven Pokey and Maggie for their jaunt through the busy streets of their home town but we are naming them our August 14, 2011 Pups of the Week.

They are two wonderful dogs, great friends, the stories of their treks to their forever home is as riveting as any we have heard. But this week we are celebrating them for their selfishness. Many nights they have to give up their wonderful Mom, Aunt Laura, while she transports rescued dogs to their forever homes. There is no greater gift a dog can give to his fellow dogs then sacrificing time with their Moms so rescued dogs living lives of misery can get help reaching the humans whose lives they will fill with love and devotion.

We have also named Pokey and Maggie because I know they will have no problem with this condition: They have to share this week's award with all the other dogs who have sacrificed time with their parents so rescue dogs can be transported on the Greyhound Railroad. I apologize to those pups who do this and we have not named. I put Pocket in charge of record keeping so we know what all our pups are doing. But she was playing ball with Daddy, ran into our filing cabinet, and the records scattered everywhere. So, for all you pups who let your parents do transports, make sure you mention it in the comments so you can get the recognition too.

Mommy and Daddy want to do transports but Mommy does not like driving a long way on her own and Daddy's nervous condition makes long car trips a dangerous endeavour. These poor pups have gone through enough. They don't need to be transported to their new home by a wild man screaming after being cut off on '95 by a guy named Vinnie from Jersey in a Volvo (it is always a guy named Vinnie from Jersey in a Volvo.) The poor pups would be breathing heavily on the back window, fogging up the window, and writing "take us back to the puppy mill" with their paws on the condensation.

Pokey and Maggie's Mom lives in one of the busiest traffic areas in the country. As soon as she turns out of her driveway she is taking her life in her own hands, until she gets into the Northern New England states, as she is surrounded by busy highways. People don't give way to ambulances never mind a hard worker on the Greyhound Railroad.

I think Pokey and Maggie must worry a lot about their Mom while she is gone, as do other dogs who have their parents give so much for our brothers and sisters. If your parents are going to make one of these rescue runs can you please post it either in the forum, blog, or the message page so the Brigade can pray for them.

If you are more the stay at home type, like Mommy and Daddy until they can get his head screwed on tight, there are still ways you can help in the rescue efforts. One of our favorite on line organizations is Pet Pardons administered by Ashley Hill Owen and Steve Hoar. That's his name, not a Foleyisim. Pet Pardons posts on Facebook and Twitter pups who are on death row at their shelters. What they ask is that, if you can't save a pup, you can advocate for the, by putting it on your Facebook or Twitter page or put a link on TB. The more people see it the more likely there is that a shelter or a single person will save the pup.

It does are heart god to see that while we devote so much of our Internet space to silly little stories to make people smile others are using it to help keep dogs off of death row and find them homes. And it means so much to see Muggles like Pokey's and Maggie's Mom who helps organize and transport these pups, and others who foster them until they are ready to go to their forever homes.

So a tip of our tail to our Pups of the Week, Pokey and Maggie, their wonderful Mom, Aunt Laura, and for all the wonderful Muggles who help us pups find the loving home we need to be guardian angels for our forever parents. All involved are our Pups and Slope Noses of the Week.

I need advice on my Daddy's burning Hot Pocket

2011-08-11T22:06:00.017-04:00

You humans are so interested in our Vicks (poo, crap, dropping, remains, however you choose to term them). Every time ours are a little loose, or irregular, the slope noses e-mail, text, call their friends to discuss what is going on with poo. Inevitably we are fed some bland rice, chicken boiled until the juices are sucked out of it, bland yogurt, and, if we’re lucky, something tasty like pumpkin.

But what should we do when our Daddies have bad poo?. What should we feed them? How do we get them back to producing golden nuggets?

Every story about our Vick begins with: “You wouldn’t believe what (insert dog’s name here) ate yesterday. Well you won’t believe what Daddy ate yesterday.

Let me set the scene: Yesterday Mommy and Daddy drove down the Cape to see my Yorkie friend Lulu and the Therapist. (New on NBC this fall: It’s Lulu and the Therapist. She’s a seven pound Yorkie rescue. Her partner is a licensed therapist. Together they travel the country solving crime and helping sad people It’s Lulu and the Therapist new this fall on NBC - Never Beating Cable.) After pouring their hearts out to Lulu and the Therapist the Therapist gave them human advice. Lulu gave them her Yorkie advice. Lie in a sunny spot. Sniff every flower. Always sit in a comfortable spot. Now which advice do you think my silly slope noses followed? The humans of course. If only they could try it our way just for a day how simpler their lives would be.

They then went to Paul’s Pizza where Daddy ate the thing you won’t believe he ate. He ate a Pepperocino pizza. This is a pizza with, what he thought was a sweet pepper topping. Wrong! It was a hotter than Hattie’s pepper. But Daddy believe you eat what you ordered, so he did, pouring down several Pepsi's and sucking ice as he did.

They drove home, he mowed the lawn, we had thunder boomers, Mommy fell asleep, Daddy began making her a snack before waking her up. Then he stopped and he made a face and bent slightly. It was a cross between Kramer in the circus episode of Seinfeld where he passed the kidney stone and an ostrich, unaware that is is with child, going into labor.

He hurried into the bathroom. He was making noises that would have made me call 911 if I had oppossable thumbs (but the smell was terrific.) He then came out, bent over, walking slowly. He finished making Mommy’s snack and her tea, brought it over to her, woke her and told her “the peppers are passing through me undigested.”

Mommy told him that it was good he was passing them but he told her no, it wasn’t good, because they were as hot coming out as they were going in. My little sister looked up confused and Daddy told her “they come out hot, Pocket.” Hot Pocket! Mommy and I had a laugh at that.

Daddy gingerly sat down and then Mommy and Daddy had an argument about whose fault it was Daddy ordered that pizza. Mommy said Daddy ordered the pizza because he was an idiot. Daddy said that Mommy knew he was an idiot when she married him so she should have stopped him. I must tell you that was a compelling argument from Daddy.

A little while later Daddy had to go in. (I don’t know if that is the correct terminology, I know we have to go out so I assume when humans go it is refereed to as having to go in.) He came out walking gingerly again complaining about his hot Pocket.

Mommy told him it would be best if he way lying down so they went to bed which is the first time he got off his ass when she asked him to in nine months. He got in bed and it seemed better but he awoke at 3:30 which is the usual time Pocket wakes him up to go outside. Pocket got rustled as he was getting out of bed and she looked at me and said: “How rude! Interrupted my sleep.”

After and endless streams of noises that sounded like a moose in a wood chipper Daddy came out of the bedroom and got back into the bed. He kept flipping around trying to get comfortable even trying to balance himself on one butt cheek but it’s hard to sleep and balance. Finally he fell asleep.

He has seemed fine today, but we still need help. What should we be feeding him? Is there something we can give him that will firm him up and cool him down? And is there anything we can do about the incessant whining?

If you have any experience in caring for middle aged slope noses with hot pockets and whining tendencies please let us know. Please pray for our overheated butt hole with his overheated butt hole.

Smoochy is our August 7, 2011 pup of the week

2011-08-07T22:31:00.000-04:00

We have lost pups before. We have lost them to Rainbow Bridge. We have lost them when doors were left open and they scampered off into the wild. But we have never lost a pup like we lost one this week.

We lost him in cyberspace.

It breaks our tiny Yorkie hearts whenever we lose a friend. Earlier this week we got a notice that our good friend Lily was leaving the Brigade. We immediately ran to her place and begged her not to leave. Our surprised little friend said she had no intention of leaving. It was another Lily. We had another Lily in the Brigade? Oh well. I'm sure we will miss her. A lot. (Who knew?)

But on Thursday Hattie Mae, having spent a week playing a befuddled Professor Henry Huggens to her little sister Jackie's Eliza Dolittle, decided to come to the playground where she found Smoochy's place was gone. She barked "Smoochy, Smoochy," over and over but there was no answer, no silly black dog running towards her with his tail wagging giving her slobbering kisses. She came around our place and told us that Smoochy was missing. I went over to his place and there was nothing there but a blank spot. I agreed with her this was mysterious, and, although we didn't let each other know, we were quite worried. This was not a good sign. Pocket put on her Pocket Dog Private Dog hat and told us she was on the case. This wasn't a good sign either.

Hattie put out a public notice that Smoochy was missing and offered an award of a photo shoot with her for any information. We then fanned out in the woods looking for any sign of him. We were joined by the "real" Lily, Benjamin, Brody, Sydney and her pack, and other friends. But there was no sign of the Smoocher.

We decided to go back to our Mom's houses where we could use our computers to get some information. I looked up his Mom's information on the Buddy System and we began to bombard the Foret home with e-mails, phone calls, texts, and instant messages. Sydney's Mom, who lives three hours away from Smoochy offered to drive down to her house to check on her.

Pocket Dog Private Dog had other ideas: "When I found out the Smooster was missing I knew this case was right up my alley. Missing dogs, that's my MO. I sniffed all around but there wasn't a scent. He disappeared like class at Kim Kardashian's wedding. I tracked down Legs Foley during a futile seach by the water hole. I told her I needed her fancy typewriter skills. I had her set up a Google alert for Smooch's town of Nelsonville Wisconson. This way if his Mom's name or his name turned up in the news I'd be on top of it like an unneutered dog on a Westminster champion poodle. I didn't find out anything about Smoochy or his Mom but I did find out the following: This weekend in Nelsonville they are going to have their first annual brick festival. Image that. After thousands of years of bricks it took the good people of Nelsonville to give them a festival. Everyone is invited to bring their own brick. In the Northeast that is known as a street fight. There is 13.88 acres of a field for sale there so if you're Miley Cyrus and looking to build a mansion there you go. And they are closing the post office there so good luck if you are expecting any mail from Smoochy because he can't walk across town line to mail a letter."

That night the Brigade grounds were searched again, more texts, more phone calls, all went to message on the first ring. That night I took Mommy's Batphone with me to bed. I checked every five minutes for updates as the power slipped away, Finally, at 1:30 AM, we got the news that Lily had found Smoochy. Those darn Ning Flying Monkees who work for the Ning weasels had chased him right out of cyberspace and off the Brigade.

To make things more complicated Smoochy's Mommy got a human virus and Smoochy did, as we all would have done, stayed with her. He did not realize his home at the Brigade had been lost and there was a frantic search going on for him. His Mommy's cell phone was not working, the satellite dish that calls come through was overwhelmed with the excitement about the brick festival.

Smoochy's Mom finally felt well enough to check her fruitberry. And it was loaded with messages from our Moms. She realized what had happened and contacted her friends by human means to tell us that the Smoocher and her were safe. Smoochy went to the Brigade but the gate was locked and no matter how much he barked no one would let him in. All poor Smoochy could think was that his friends had locked him out.

Then in the distance I heard barking. I realized it was Smoochy. I ran over to the wall and he told me he couldn't get in. He told me that he had got ruby slippers from Hattie Mae. But they didn't fit. If he clicked Ruby slippers together he could get home. I went to Hattie and told her I needed her Ruby Slipper collection. At first she told me back off lollipop but when I told her it was for Smoochy she dug through her pile and found a pair that fit Smoochy. I threw them over the wall. Smoochy put them on, clicked his heels three times, and he was home.

Oh Smoochy we love you so much. And you scared us more than you know. But you are homes, you are safe, and you are our Pup of the Week.