MacDougal is our December 17, 2017 Pup of the Week

Two more of my friends,  Rani-Go and Bailey, arrived at Rainbow Bridge this week.  It filled me with fury.  I was determined to fly up the mountain to confront the Big Guy.  Why is there such despair just before Christmas?  How much pain can humans endure?  I wanted the Big Guy to answer the questions he has thus far avoided.

I was preparing to fly up the mountain when I heard the church bell calling me to the top of the stairs.  I shook my head and wondered which friend’s family had been devastated.  I heard little paws bouncing up the steps.  I looked up at the sun, and when I glanced back, I dropped to my knees, grabbed my friend of close to ten years by the waist, and sobbed.

MacDougal, after 16 years of mortal life, many illnesses and close calls, had finally run out of heartbeats.

MacDougal and I have been friends for ten years.  Right now his Christmas card is hanging on the cabinet over my mom’s  dishwasher.  He is smiling; his eyes are filled with joy, looking like he loves every second of life, which I am sure he did.

The bond between him and his mom, Aunt Inge, may have been the strongest union I have experienced.  Shortly after we became friends Mac’s dad was diagnosed with cancer  He fought the disease bravely, but, sadly he was taken from Mac and his mom way too soon.  Aunt Inge and Mac mourned together, recovered together, and moved on together.  That is the word that springs to mind when I think of Mac and Aunt Inge:  Together.

A pup does not live 16 years without their body starting to betray them, and that happened to Mac.  His pancreas and his liver were both problems.  He needed expensive medicine every day.  His mom loved to travel but that had to be put on hold.  Mac could not be left alone.  

But his mom did not miss her old life because she knew what she had in MacDougal.  He was joy personified.  Who wouldn’t give up their life for more days with a barking, playing, loving, furry beating heart of joy?

There were many times when we thought Mac was on the cusp of becoming an angel.  Aunt Inge had made an appointment in  August to send Mac to the angels after he hadn’t eaten for six days.  That afternoon Mac let his mom know he was not ready by eating two bowls of food.

But we all knew he was on borrowed time.  And Saturday, that bill came due.  That strong, joyful, persistent little heart gave one final beat in his mom’s loving arms, and seconds later I was wrapped around his legs crying.

Mac put a paw on my shoulder.  “It’s OK, old friend,” he said to me.  (I really am a terrible greeter.  My job is to console new angels, and they all end up helping me).  “I could not have had a better life.  The first time I saw my beautiful mom I was a dirty ball of fur:  The runt of the litter.  But guess what?  The runt had the best life.  And now I need to get to work on being the best angel.”

I stood and composed myself then swore Mac in, but that composure was temporary, because when I turned, I saw, squatting, with his arms open, waiting, Mac’s dad, who had left him so many years before.  Mac barked in joy and ran to his Dad, jumping ten feet and landing in his arms.  Mac gave him 1,000 kisses, and he got 1,000 more in return.  There is nothing more moving than a parent and dog reunion at the Bridge.

Mac apologized for taking so long, and his dad said it was fine.  He wanted Mac to stay with his mom as long as he could.  That was where he was needed.

Mac will be back to visit him mom soon, even though she may not know it.  That is what stinks about being an angel.  

While I know his mom has a large chasm in her chest where her heart used to be, she should know that Mac is still being loved every day and has a warm lap to sit on it and a soft hand to ruffle the hair on top of his head.


He wants his mom to get the tears out, to cry as long as she needs.   Once the tears are out the healing can begin, and with Mac as her angel, he will be sure direct her to more joy to help heal her heart.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: The True Story of the Hattie Mae Chrisrmas Tree Hat

I popped into my good friend Hattie Mae’s dreams this week.  I wanted to give her my fondest Christmas wishes.  Hattie was one the most famous dog models in the world.  But she has retired from public life and now lives on her fabulous Virginia estate where she is waited on by her many minions.

During her prime, which spanned more than a decade, the masses anxiously awaited to see what creation Hattie had designed and modeled.  One fashion post from Hattie would send the entire dog community abuzz.  We simply had to have what she wore.

  Until the Christmas Hat.

Hattie debuted the look one December afternoon.  She paraded it in front of us and waited for the usual praise.  There was stunned silence.  Brody broke the tension by blurting “Hattie Mae you look ridiculous.”  The diva had never heard a word of criticism in her life.  Humiliated she ran off the runway.

Josie told Brody that he should not have been so blunt.  “You’re laughing too!” Brody said.  Josie put a paw to her mouth to cover her smile.

“We should go talk to her,” Lou said.  

Smoochy stood and said he would lead the way

I joined them as we walked down the hallway to her dressing room.  We could hear the sound of glass shattering against the wall.  Brody knocked on the door and opened it.   A vase shattered inches from his face.  He shut the door.  “She’s busy,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t be foolish,” Smoochy said.  He knocked on the door and entered.  Hattie was sitting at her dressing table with her head in her paws.

“I am ruined!” she said.  

Josie stepped into the dressing room cautiously.  “Don’t be silly Hattie,” she said putting a paw on Hattie’s shoulder.  “It is just one design.”

Hattie picked up the hat with her mouth and flung it across the room.  “It isn’t even mine.  It is from the House of Etsy.  I only modeled it because they offered me enough kibble to buy my mom a new sewing machine.  She really wanted one.  But now I will never work again.”

“You are being overly dramatic,” Smoochy told her.  “No one will notice.”

Brody giggled.  “The picture I put on Twitter of Hattie’s in her hat has been retweeted 100,000 times.”

We all groaned.  

“Ruined!” Hattie Mae said  She climbed down and hid under her table.

“You are only ruined if the hats don’t sell and are never seen again,” Lou said.  “We all have a following on social networking.  If we wear the hats and promote them, I am sure they will become popular, and Hattie Mae’s reputation as a top model will be maintained.”

Brody’s paws were working his phone.  “I just ordered five,” he said.  “Or fifty, it is hard working an I-Phone without opposable thumbs.”

And that is when we got to work ordering hats and getting our friends to do the same.  The hats sold out.  Hattie was given all the credit.  Her Mom got a new sewing machine, and the wearing of Hattie Mae Hats on Christmas became a tradition that has gone on for years.

Hattie is retired, and several of us who were there that day, namely Smoochy, Brody and myself are at the Bridge, but we gladly wear the hats each year even if we look foolish.

Because looking like a fool is what we do for a friend, especially at Christmas.

A Snowstorm Makes River Reflect on Poop Neutrality

I didn’t sleep well Friday night.  There was something in the air, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.  I was awake before the alarm went off.  When Daddy took me outside, I realized the foul, officious malignancy that had upset my normal sleep pattern.  It was snow.

I spent my first year in Florida surrounded by too many dogs and too few humans.  I have it so much better now.  There are two humans to every sibling.  There is always an open lap.  I get lots of individual attention.  My life could not be better.  Then someone made it snow.

I want nothing to do with it.  Most of the time I find humans pooping and peeing inside a refillable water dish reprehensible.  And they call us animals.  But when there is snow on the ground I wish to join them in this most malicious act.  Move your feet human, for, while I may not be able to lift my privates over the rim I can certainly evacuate next to the porcelain throne.

“Bad girl,” they say when I do the same act they complete several times a day, more so if they have eaten Mexican.  When I am outside, my death of Adam tickling the snow, they insist I pee.  They train us not to pee in the house and most of us (Pocket’s company excluded) learn.  We all become professors of voluntary urine retention.  My bladder could be bursting, but I can stand in the cold and hold my pee barely showing the slightest effort while my parents shiver and shake in the cold.

I could hold out (or in, as the case may be) until I break my parent’s will, we go back inside, and I let the water loose like the Hoover Dam opening, but I inevitably pee because the yellow stain would make my parents more frustrated, and I, like all dogs, have the unconquerable instinct to please them, and making them impatiently stand freezing is revenge enough for not being given equal indoor pee and poop rights.

They say this storm “only” dropped four inches of snow, but when your legs are only three inches high, four is more than enough, especially when you run around without pants on, which is why Harvey Weinstein can’t get a movie funded in Hollywood anymore.

I will not pee without permission, but if the snow persists, I will cinch my bladder tight, and slowly break them, until I gain temporary indoor pee rights, something Pocket claimed by having a weak bladder years ago.

Then peace shall reign throughout the land.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Where the hell are my freaking pretzels?

Monday Question

Do you exchange Christmas cards with your dog friends and how many more cards do you get if you do?

Pocket:  We do.  This year we sent out close to 70 cards to eight different counties.  If it wasn't for dog friends my parents would send out a dozen cards.

Lily is our December 10, 2017 Pup of the Week

There is never a good time to send a beloved pup to Rainbow Bridge, but December is the worst.  During the holidays we count our blessings and hold our loved ones tighter.  Losing a family member not only casts a dark shadow on the upcoming festivities but a cloud reappears each subsequent holiday season as a sad reminder.

Recently we wrote the unimaginable tale of Jasper and Sophie-Rae.  Jasper’s parents knew he was ill, but they had no idea Sophie-Rae was running out of heartbeats too.  The same is true of my blogger friends Lily and Muffin who write the Doxie Life blog.  Their parents knew Muffin had congestive heart failure, but they had no signal that Lily was ill as well.

Lily and Muffin’s parents were at the doctor’s waiting for Muffin to have a follow-up exam when suddenly Lily went into full respiratory distress.   She was immediately placed in an oxygen tent.  Subsequent x-rays showed that Lily had fluid around her heart and her liver was twice the normal size.

An oxygen tent is a very bad place to be.  I went in on a Friday and didn’t come out for more than a minute until my parents sent me here on a Sunday.  The tents are necessary:  Without them, neither Lily or I could have lived another five minutes.  But, we both became dependent on it to live and someday you have to come out of the tent.

Lily departed for the Bridge the day after she was placed in the tent.  There were tear clouds from across the world leaving wide puddles on the ground as Lily climbed the steps to start her immortal life. Her grandparents were there to greet her and to tell her she would never be without a human touch.  She gave the hundreds of kisses.

I got a moment alone with her and asked her why she didn’t let her parents know that she wasn’t feeling well.  “My parents were already worried about Muffin,” she explained.  “They say dogs don’t like to show pain because it is a sign of weakness.  It is not weakness it is worry.  We don’t want to show pain because it makes our parents nervous.  They were nervous enough with Muffin.”

Lily does hope she did not ruin her parents’ Christmas forever.  She loved every Christmas they spent together and hoped this Christmas they will only have good memories of her.  She has vowed to become Muffin’s angel and give her plenty of heartbeats, so her parents do not go through this pain again for a long time.

She wants them to know she will be there this Christmas and everyone to come, twinkling like lights on the tree, singing along with the carolers on the radio, and in their hearts.


Hopefully, Lily’s parents can keep that knowledge in their hearts and their heads and don’t let Christmas be a sad reminder of her but a joyous remembrance.