Beat This Caption

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

Monday Question

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Visit With Lakia the First Dog in Space

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the moon and back.

River Song and the Right to Smell LIke a Dog

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

The neighbor's pig?  Haven't seen him.  Why do you ask?