Pup of the Week: Building a Wall for Paco, Josie, Smoochy, Macdougal, and Junior

My good friend Ladybug and I have been working on a secret project.  Each morning we begin construction on a great, big beautiful wall.  And each evening after we go to sleep The Big Guy knocks it down with a giant wrecking ball.
But we are still building the wall.  Why you ask.  We are building the wall to keep out the unwanted:  All dogs on the mortal side: Especially our dear friends.
We build the wall for Paco.  He has serious breathing issues.  His Mom is afraid to go to work.  Every time she leaves Paco she wonders if he will need medicine after he has an attack and she will not be there to administer the drugs.  And she is afraid of the day the medicine won’t work.   We want Paco to have a lot more days with his Mom on the mortal side. So we build the wall for Paco.
We build the wall for Josie.
She had two terrible attacks from an undiagnosed infection.  She spent many nights at the doctors.  Finally, after an array of tests, a tumor was detected.  It had perforated her colon causing the attacks.  In a way, the perforated colon was a blessing.  If that had not happened, the tumor would have remained undetected.  Josie had the tumor removed.  They are awaiting the results of the biopsy.  She may still have to undergo chemo.  So we build the wall for Josie.
We build the wall for Smoochy.

He escaped a sure trip to the Bridge in March.  But his bone cancer had turned him into a tri-paw.  His happy gallop is now a slow limp.  But Smoochy is determined to stay with his Mom as long as he can.  To help him we build the wall for Smoochy.

We build the wall for MacDougal.

He has been suffering from vomiting, back issues, mobility issues and to top it off a tumor on his bottom.   He has endured every test known in the medical world.  He has been shaved, poked, prodded, and ­probed.  Among his diagnosis have been cancer, gall bladder blockage, and other diagnoses which the doctor dismissed as quickly as they diagnosed them.  Now the doctors have settled on acid reflux.  The doctors could not decide if the tumor on his butt was cancerous and wanted to be more tests but after a month of Mac undergoing a myriad of tests his Mom decided no more tests and is concentrating on giving Mac the best days possible until it is his time.  To ensure it is not his time we build the wall for MacDougal.
We build the wall for Junior Johnson.

  The doctors diagnosed Junior with lymphoma.  His Mom is hoping it is a bad diagnosis.  Junior has undergone an operation to remove the tumor, and his Mom is waiting to hear from the vet about the next step.  She is very worried about her special boy.  So we build the wall for Junior.

We build the wall for every sick dog, every senior dog, every dog living heartbeat to heartbeat.  We know the Big Guy will keep knocking down our wall, but we will never stop building it to try to ke­­­ep dogs and parents together for many more days.

Break is over.  Time to rebuild the wall.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Willie Gives Foley a Swimming Lesson

I never wanted to admit it, but when I was on the mortal side of the River, I never learned how to swim.  There was never a reason to learn.  I rarely saw anything deeper than a puddle.  I am a tiny dog and possibly could swim in a puddle, but one opens themselves up to ridicule by puddle swimming.

Now that I am at the Bridge I watch my friends playing in the River.  They ask me to join them, but I always find a reason to stay dry on the bank.  But truthfully I longed to join them, but I was afraid I would embarrass myself.  No one wants to see a Judge sink.

This week I decided to take action.  After my friends had finished a morning swim, I approached Angel Willie, the best dog swimmer I know, and asked him to teach me how to swim.

Hi looked me up and down then sat down and put a paw on my shoulder.  “Foley I will try, but you have stubby little legs, a big tail, and the torso of a dehydrated pot belly pig, but If you want to learn, I will try to teach you.

I wanted to learn.

We walked to the river.  “On three we jump in,” Willie said.  He counted three, and he jumped in while I bent my knees a little and froze.

Willie popped up looking for me.  He splashed a paw in the water and encouraged me to jump.  I shut my eyes and pushed off with my back legs.  I felt wet; then I felt mud.  I opened my eyes and saw fish.  My paws stuck in the muddy bottom.  If I weren't at Rainbow Bridge, I would have been headed there.  Willie reached down and pulled me up by my tail.

He held me in his paws.  “Kick your paws!” Willie barked.  I kicked my paws.  I sunk.

He pulled me up. “Keep your head up, swish your tail, kick your paws as hard as you can.”  I did as he said.  I sunk.

Willie spent an hour with me, and each attempt concluded the same way.  I sunk.

Willie put me on the bank and told me he would be right back.  He returned with a floaty in his mouth.  He placed me inside, and I was floating on the river.  Soon our friend came back for their noontime swim, and I was able to float around with them.

So thank you, Willie.  You may not have taught me how to swim, but you taught me something more important.

How to stay afloat.

Snowy Days and Mondays by Pocket Dog

Oh, my.  Snowy spring Mondays foretells ill fortune

.

Monday began peacefully enough.  The bedroom was cold, the bed warm, and the four of us had nowhere to go.  River and I were looking forward to a snuggly day spent under blankets on mom’s lap.  We finally arose and had to do our business in ankles deep snow.  Our most private areas were chilled.  We hurried back inside hoping for second bed but alas Mommy had started to “make” the bed.  Once they make the bed, we can’t sleep in it.  I prefer to think of it as “breaking the bed."

The trouble began during breakfast.  Daddy sipped his milk then a curious expression appeared on his face.  He said the milk was warm.  Mommy checked the refrigerator, and the temperature gauge pointed towards spoilage.  Our old refrigerator is going to Appliance Bridge.  Mommy announced, sadly, that the old fridge was not long for the kitchen.

Daddy dropped some ice cubes into his milk, and they commenced eating.  I sniffed something.  River’s nose was in the air, and I could tell she smelled it too.  “Don’t say anything,” River warned.  “When something smells we are usually blamed.”

Mommy thought since the refrigerator was malfunctioning, that it must be the source of the smell.  But it wasn’t.  I knew it was coming from the laundry room, but River counseled me to stay still.  My parents soon figured the origin of the scent. The motor in the washing machine had made a suicide pact with the refrigerator and was headed to Appliance Bridge as well.

Now Mommy and Daddy would be going out, and our snuggled was ruined.  Even worse they were going out in the snow which is super dangerous.  But before they went we had to go out in the snow again and dip our privates into the frozen zone.

It seemed like they were gone forever.  River and I waited:  Impatiently and nervously.  When they returned home, they had a big red cooler.  Their appliances would not be delivered for ten days.  And then we were back out in the cold and snow with our privates.

Then we almost answered the question we had wondered about for so long.  How many of our parents do you need to change a lightbulb?  Thanks to a special bulb and track lighting the answer is more than two, and a pair of parents was all we had.  Part of the fixture that holds the globe covering the light broke in Dad’s hand.  So they have to order a part of that.

Then six of the most depressing words in the English language was spoken:  “Opening Day canceled because of snow.”

No refrigerator, no washing machine, improper living room lighting and baseball delayed.

It all began when my parents “broke” the bed.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Please don't let Daddy post this on the Internet.  I don't want to grow up in a group home

Pup of the Week: Gracie Mae

My dear friend Gracie Mae crossed the River of Live via Rainbow Bridge last week, and, while I want to make sure that this story is about her and not me, I must apologize.  I was also friends with Gracie Mae’s cat siblings.  I am usually not friends with cats.  While I lived on the mortal side of the River Cats were a huge annoyance for me, except for Andy and Barney.   My brain must be deteriorating like a zombie’s because when I saw Gracie, a called this beautiful yellow dog a cat!   So sorry my friend.

Not that Gracie minded.  She loved her siblings and considered being mistaken for one, even a cat, was beautiful.   After Gracie was sworn in, fitted with wings, and received flying instruction, she landed next to me then hugged me.  “Oh Foley,” she said kissing me on the head “you are still the same silly dog.”

I usually shun such shows of affection but who could ignore Gracie’s affections?   It is the way she casually dismissed my error that displayed what a unique girl Gracie is.  On the worst day of her life, her heart was still filled with compassion.  But I was no more surprised at Grace’s graciousness then I was by the sun rising each morning

The affability of Grace’s family members was personified by her angel siblings who preceded her.  Humbly waiting for her were her little brothers Buddy and Toby, her big sister Keri, and the pack members she never met nose to nose including Muffin and Jondalar.  They joined in a huddle of love with Grace in the middle.  They concentrated very hard attempting to get a message of love across the River to their Mom and Dad, their kitty siblings, and Grace’s brother Keegan, who was now an only dog.

Gracie Mae and her pack of angels Mom and Dad taught them how to love and how to be kind.  Grace’s parents have provided a loving home for so many four legged souls there are rumors that we will build a statue of her here at the Bridge.  She could be the first of many mom statues.  In their way all our moms and dads deserve statues.

Perhaps I should form a committee on statues.  Now that we have a perfectly raised angel to chair it.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Unleashed

As the air slowly warms over the Northern Hemisphere and the days grow longer dogs begin to go on walks with more regularity.  

I do walk now.  I like to take an invigorating stroll after breakfast.  I start out alone.  I enjoy the solitude.  Inevitably I find a group of friends and soon we are chasing one another, nipping at furiously wagging tails, lying on our backs as my friends sniff my belly and nibble at my legs.  The sun shines brightly above us warming our fur and before we know it, we are huddled together asleep:  Warm and safe.

I prefer walking to flying.  Flying is faster than walking, but  I have never been speedy.  If I am going uphill, I spread my wings and let the wind lift me but on level ground I am content with traveling by paw.

I discovered that you found yourself missing the oddest things when you arrive at the other side.  When I walked with my parents, I resented being connected to them by a leash all the time.  I was small, but I was tough and could handle any vermin that crossed my path.  And I came when called.  I would never run off.  Not from Mommy.  But still I was always connected to them by that infernal leash.

As I spend more time at the Bridge, I realize I miss the strap.  That broad and long fabric connected us like an umbilical cord, like a lifeline from the space station to Major Tom.  As I trotted along I could feel an energy coursing down the leash:  Love, concern, awareness, companionship.  And I would pull on that rope.  I thought it was because I was trying to get away but it was because I was checking...always checking.  The tension holding me back was love, and I would test that love by pulling harder, but I could not break that tension, or break that love.

It was like seeing comforting hands on your baby carriage, like being held in loving arms.  It was the assurance that there was someone there looking after me, always.

Someday my parents will walk me through the Bridge’s fields.  I hope the don’t mind, or think it odd when I ask them to bring a leash.