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We fill this pup with Beef-A-Rino, he farts, and I fly

Pup of the Week: Ciara

Only my Blogville friends know Ciara.  I feel a little jealous of my friends who weren’t aware of her this morning.  Their tears were not part of the clouds of tears that opened up above Rainbow Bridge shortly before her arrival. She was a resilient, brave, tough dog who fought off seizures as long as she could, but finally, the seizure won.

I hate seizures.  Luckily I never experienced one.  But my first sister, Blake, had many seizures.  They are frightening to everyone involved.  To our parents seizures are like a terrible spirit that has taken over their baby and is ripping her apart from the inside.  Whether they last for seconds or minutes, every moment is filled with fear and dread.  All the parents want is their sweet baby back.

Blake told me,  as a dog who suffered from seizures, that, while they were occurring, it was like a bad dream, but one where everything that you physically experienced in the dream still affected you when you awoke.  And then there was the look of fear in our parents’ eyes.  Dogs are created to take care of their parents.   We do hate to cause them any sorrow.

Ciara had been suffering from seizures for three years.  As is accurate of all dogs who suffer from these events Ciara, her brother Lightning, and their parents went on a terrible roller coaster ride.  There were good days when they thought Ciara was going to live seizure free and there were bad days when they thought her trip to the Bridge was rapidly approaching.  There were very few calm, worry-free days.

At the end of September Ciara had gone several days without having a seizure.  Her parents were going from Kansas to Texas to visit their son and grandchildren. Their parents hated to leave them at their fun camp, but sometimes our parents have to pay attention to their human children.  Ciara’s mom asked for lots of prayers when Ciara and Lightning were left at the camp.  

Ciara did not have a single seizure while at camp.  When their parents returned home, the people who ran the camp said they never saw a dog as devoted to a sibling as Lightning was to Ciara.  He never left her side.  The happy family returned home hoping what they called the Seizure Monster was gone for good.

Sadly, the Seizure Monster was waiting in the wings.  The first night home Ciara began to have cluster seizures, close together.  She was rushed to the vet and put on a new medication.  But this time, the medication didn’t work.  Two days later Ciara had her last seizure and slipped away to the Bridge.

She left behind a devastated family, including her brother Lightning, who is lost without the sister he so fiercely protected.

I administered the Angel vows to Ciara, and, after being greeted by her angel siblings Thunder, Dakota, and Phantom I got a chance to talk with Ciara.  I asked her if she felt cheated because she only had one night with her parents when they got back.  

“Oh no, I was fighting to keep the seizure monster away while I was at camp.  Lightning was helping me scare the monster away.  All I wanted was to be home, to feel the loving ear scratches, my parents’ warm touch.  Oh, Foley, that meant the world to me.  When the monster came for me, more ferocious than ever, I was ready.  I was home, I was loved, and I was ready.”

She asked me the quickest way to get back to her family.  Even if they didn’t know she was there she still wanted to be near them.  I told her when Leo would be leading Angels into the sun and towards their families.  When the time came she took off back towards home to be with her parents and Lightning again.

And as she tipped her wings and flew higher in the air I saw, for the first time in three years, that the seizure monster was no longer following her.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Meet RuBea - Teddy Bond's New Secret Agent

After all the excitement of Miss Vicki’s arrival, I was exhausted.  I went back to my quaint cottage.  I poured my Mommy’s tears into my garden and watched my beautiful flowers open and grow stronger.  I pulled some weeds then went inside, made myself some tea, climbed into bed and drifted into a much-deserved sleep.

I wasn’t asleep five minutes when I was awakened by a great bang, and a puff of smoke filling the room.  Had I forgotten the flume?  No.  Teddy Bond, secret agent angel and founder of Acme Dog Gadgets that have been aiding dogs on escaping crates, counter surfing, and other feats that leave parents scratching their heads about how their dog accomplished whatever impossible task the dog did in their parents’ absence, stood at the end of my bed.

“I finally have a successor!” he announced as proud as I have ever seen him.

I wiped the sleep from my eyes.  “A new successor?  Has your sister Gracie finally decided to carry on your business?”

“No,” he said with a touch of annoyance in his voice.  “Gracie still only wants to sit on mommy’s lap and look beautiful.  But take a look at her.”

He handed me a picture of an attractive white and brown puppy.  

“Her name is RuBea,” Teddy said excitedly.  Do you see what is in her eyes?  I looked closer but did not answer.  “It is mischief and adventure!”   I looked closer but still didn’t see it.  Teddy was oblivious to my confusion.

“I am going to let her get settled in,” he said excitedly.  “She is still a puppy.  But within a couple of months, I am visiting her in my dreams.  I am showing her where my hidden workshop is under the stairs.  She is going to open the Dog Gadgets business again.  Crates will be opened, refrigerator doors will be penetrated, dog food bag seals opened.  I am back baby, and this little puppy will lead us.”

Teddy then went running out of the door to plan more gadgets.  

Welcome to the family RuBea.  I know you will be be loved more than any dog ever could be loved.  But be warned.  You have a maniacal angel brother.  And he has big plans for both of you.

River and the Bee

It was a very normal, everyday Thursday.  Daddy was working.  Mommy took Pocket and me out to pee.  We put on our leashes and went out the back porch door.  When we go to the grass Pocket, always trying to be the rebel, got on my back, and rolled around on the cool green grass.

I know I should not get on my back, spread my legs, and roll around.  That is the kind of behavior that made me an unwed, teenage mother.  But someday you can’t help yourself. You have to get on your back, spread your legs, and roll.

Mommy made me flip over and get into position (for peeing, geez people.)  After some searching, I peed, and we began walking back in the house.  Every few feet I would stop and sit down.  Mommy told me to move, and I would, but then stop again.  When we got back inside the porch, I sat down and wouldn’t move.

Mommy picked me up and began searching.  That is when she found a bee on my butt.  (It wasn’t in my bonnet, but it was too close to my bonnet for comfort.)  She didn’t want to startle the bee. I had never been bitten before, and she didn’t know what would happen.  So she tried to pinch the bee between her fingers.

That bee went and stung her right on the hand.  It then fell on the ground and mommy squished it.  I was upset.  Mommy got stung because I was on my back rolling in the grass.  In my defense, Pocket was useless during the entire situation.

I immediately jumped up and tried to lick the venom out of her hand.  She assured me it was all right.  She was alone and had to perform surgery on herself with a pair of tweezers and removed the stinger.  I think she is going to be all right.

I swore I was never going to roll around on my back with my legs spread again.

But let’s face it, it’s still going to happen

Wordless Wednesday

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Hold on! Hold on! It wasn't me! It was my brother. I swear. We are only two weeks old. You can't tell us apart.

Pup of the Week: Vicki Tankersley

My friend Blazer came tearing through the front door of my cottage and then right out the back.  As I slowly got out of bed, he ran through the house again.  He had a case of the zooms.

His next time through  I stopped him and asked what was wrong.  “My Mommy is coming, my Mommy is coming,” he yelled, his tail wagging furiously.  I asked him to explain.  “Something happened to mommy; I don’t know what, all I know is that she is coming.”  He ran out the door, then came back in, wet his paw, and patted down the hair on his forehead.  “You look beautiful,” I told him.  He scooted out the door.  I followed, after patting down my hair with my licked paw.

I was happy for Blazer; there is nothing more beautiful than a parent and pet reunion.  But I also knew there would be very many sad humans.  A cloud of their tears burst over us as I ran behind Blazer.  I made a note to collect my mom’s tears to help my garden grow.

My mom knew Blazer’s mom better than she knew any online friend.  For years they had exchanged emails.

Life did not give Blazer’s mom, Miss Vicki, many breaks.  She had a difficult childhood and became estranged from her family; she married young, to an older man, and their marriage dissolved without children; her dependent personality led her down some bad roads; then came the lung cancer which robbed her of 75% of her lung capacity and made her unable to eat solid food; and then came bankruptcy and depression.  

All she had was her dog Blazer and cat Kimber until one day she stumbled on a site called Doggyspace.  And it was there that she found her family.

But her pets would always come first.  When she was suffering through hard times, while she could still eat, a friend brought over a plate of prime rib.  She fed it to Blazer and Kimber.  When her friends asked why she said that she would rather be hungry, then let her kids go hungry.

She had an astonishing thirst for knowledge.  Around her house books were stacked from floor to ceiling.  After contracting cancer, she became obsessed with why she got the dreaded disease and had read hundreds of books on carcinogens.  When the Japan earthquake occurred, she read everything she could on the Fukushima nuclear meltdown.  What she learned about the damage to the ocean and the air, and that the damage had spread to America through rain, and the long-term ramifications of the disaster would keep the hardiest soul awake all night.  She wrote, in her last email to my mom, entitled “I’m Still Alive” that she had received more books about Fukushima and other chemical disasters and not to worry if mom did not hear from her:  She would be reading for a few days.

Despite the difficult, painful life she had lived she was filled with love and compassion.  She aided my mom greatly after I passed.  She was a great friend to Mrs. Jackie Pool who arrived at the Bridge after contracting the same lung cancer that Miss Vicki had survived.  When our great friend Leo swallowed a frog, she stayed on chat with his mom until they knew it was not poisonous.  When DS shut down, she stayed on the site, long after everyone else had been blocked, posting protest blogs lambasting the company that shut DS down.

When Blazer passed in June of 2015, following Kimber’s passing in 2014, Vicki suffered terribly.  She questioned if she had let him go too early, or let him go too late.  Mom became worried about her:  She was so alone.

Finally, she adopted an abused senior dog named Degas.  He had been severely burned and had many physical issues. They were only together a month before Degas joined Blazer.

Then she adopted Rusty, another senior dog, with CHF.  Vicki insisted on adopting senior dogs because she wanted to outlive her pets.  She had not counted on how much she would bond with Rusty.  Her letters were filled with love for him.  She was terribly worried his constant coughing and trouble breathing would send him to the Bridge too soon.  But it would be Vicki who went to the Bridge.

I saw her, on her knees, hugging Kimber and Drobo, who preceded Blazer. Degas danced around her.  And then she saw Blazer.  He ran like he had not run for years.  He jumped into her arms.  They both cried.  The dogs around her clapped and howled.  Then all the dogs surrounded them, licking her while she scratched them all.  Oh, I wish you could have seen how happy she was.

I introduced myself to her, and she hugged me for a really long time and whispered in my ears words I can only tell my mom in her dreams.  I told her since she had no family left behind, that her, and her beloved pets, could advance to the land of Happily Ever After, where there is never a worry and every day is filled with smiles and love.

She scratched my ears.  “Oh, dear Foley, I have plenty of family.  They are all your families, and we can’t go to Happily Every After until all your loved ones are there.”  She pointed to the distance where dogs who were crossing the Bridge after passing over unrescued in shelters.

She asked me who those dogs were and I told her.  She said that she would take them all.  I smiled and told her to follow me.  We came to a large mansion.  I told her that it was hers.

“Foley, I don’t need all of this,” she said looking at the house.

“Here, it’s not about what you need; it’s about what you deserve.”

Vicki gave me a kiss on the head then opened the front door.  All her pets, save Blazer, entered.  Vicki whistled.  All the unrescued dogs who had crossed the River of Life came running past me, and Blazer, who tried to write down all their names, then gave up, throwing the paper and pencil over his shoulder, joined them.  They picked up a laughing Vicki and carried her into the house.

I walked back to my cottage.

Sometimes the best happily ever after is the one you make for yourself.