Monday Question

Do you eat grain free food and are you worried about the recent FDA warnings?

Pocket:  We both eat Blue Buffalo Basics Grain Free.  We started eating this around the time the first reports of the FDA linking heart problems and grain-free food.  My parents weighed the risks of us developing heart issues with the benefits of no infections and fewer stomach problems, and that all of the reported cases had involved larger dogs, and decided no to switch to grains at least for now.

Sophie is the July 7 2019 Pup of the Week

There are too many homeless pets to count.  It seems that every second a dog is being adopted; there are two dogs that are surrendered.  It is a losing battle. 

Every day a homeless dog arrives at the Bridge.  Some of them pass naturally. Others cross in good health.  They do so because someone declared the Earth full and decided the only way to make more room was to send dogs over the Bridge.

So many of these dogs have never known love.  When they cross over, we try to place them with great dog rescuers who have passed.  Among these big-hearted angels are Jackie Pool, Michelle Kenney, and Vicki Tankersly.  They were given mansions, with hundreds of rooms. They, and many like them, have provided a home for thousands of dogs who crossed humanless.  Although pups greatly outnumber the angel moms, they still give the dogs the attention they require. 

Rescuing a senior dog can be emotionally taxing on a parent.  We dogs don’t have much time with our them even if we live with them for our entire lives.  Intentionally having that time halved, or quartered, guarantees a parent will have a shorter span between giving a dog their heart and losing it when the pup passes.

Parents who take in senior dogs may think they are only rescuing dogs for the rest of their short lifespan, but actually, they are saving them for an eternity.  Once a dog lives in their forever home, they become part of the pack when they pass to the Bridge.

In 2015, Momma Lisa Sullivan decided to foster a dog for two weeks. The pup was a terrified little girl.  In a few hours, Momma Lisa knew that this small, white, six years old would be a member of their pack for as long as her heartbeats allowed.  The pup received a new name: Sophie. She quickly assimilated with the current pack members, Mollie and Sully. In a short time, Sophie became the boss.  

It was not a smooth ride for Sophie.  Some tests showed she was losing protein.  She also began to leak. Two years ago, Momma Lisa thought Sophie would be going to the Bridge, but thanks to medication, a good doctor, and her mom, Sophie, survived.
In time both Molly and Sully went to the Bridge.  Sophie showed her devotion to her mom by helping her through the loss of her two beloved dogs and aiding new pup Dudley as he became acclimated to the family

Sophie gave her mom an entire lifetime of love in the time they had together.  On Monday night, in her usual no muss or fuss manner, Sophie departed for the Bridge, knowing her mom was in good paws with Dudley.

Sully and Molly met Sophie, plus hundreds of other dogs who never had a home, and to whom Sophie was a hero.  Sophie had visited Sully and Molly in her dreams, where she learned everything about being a pup at the Bridge. 

 Sophie was Mama Lisa’s third dog she lost in barely a year, a number that would be too much to bear for many moms. Mama Lisa is comforted by having Molly and Sully, who know how to visit their mom and ease her pain , and now Sophie, whose determination and kindness will  help her mom through the darkest parts of her journey through grief If during her travels, Mama Lisa sees a light that will lead her out of the darkness, she should know it is Sully, Molly, and Sophie holding a light for her.


Sophie will not rest until her mom completes that journey and no longer feels pain, because her mom saved her, not just for the last years of her life, but for eternity.  

Foley and the Ho-Bunny

When I was a mortal dog, I was never one for toys. Sometimes, especially in my younger days, I would play with a stuffy.  I'd pick it up, shake it, emit a tiny growl, then jump on the chair exhausted. In my later years, even this wee bit of exertion was too much for me.  I preferred to sit on my perch and watch my sister Pocket chase her silly ball. 

There was one stuffy I was partial to.  It was a pink and white rabbit that for some reason lost to the ages was called the ho-bunny.  Even in my later years, I would give the ho-bunny a few seconds of play. Mostly, I liked to hide ho-bunny under me. I found his cheerful personality comforting.  He was a good, napping companion.  

When I went to the Bridge, I was allowed to take ho-bunny with me.  I slept with it every night. It was a reminder of home. In the morning, I made the bed, arranged the pillows, and placed ho-bunny in a prominent place on the comforter.

One day last week I went to my room and saw that ho-bunny was no longer in his place.  I checked under the bed, between the covers, on the shelves, in the drawers, ho-bunny was nowhere to be found.

I immediately suspected my maniacal brother Angel Jax.  I searched the basement where he has his laboratory of dangerous things that have no purpose.  (It is where American foreign policy was crafted.) There was nothing there. I questioned him, but he swore to Goofy he was innocent. I was puzzled. Jax suggested I check out the cat village. They would like nothing better than to get one over on judge Foley Monster.
Jax had constructed the perfect cat disguise.  I could slip into their village and spy on them while seemingly looking like one of their own. Sometimes my crazed brother could be quite clever.  I slipped on the suit, walked out of the cellar, remembering to move in that funky right leg then left leg style, and headed out to the cat village.

It was awesome. They did not recognize me. I tried to keep up with the cat conversation, how many mice they chased, what new fish are in the river, clay vs. corn,  and why do dogs smell so bad. I did not show offense. Like Hobo Hudson surfing the internet, I was a dog on a mission. 

I mentioned how funny it was that Judge Foley Monster had lost her bunny.  The cats feigned ignorance. "Maybe we can look around or set up a reward if anyone finds him?" one of the cats asked. I was touched. Cats really are just like us.

One of them proclaimed, "When we give her the bunny back, maybe we can bite her tail."  Cats! Drats! Just when you think you can trust them that planning an assault on your innocent backside.

Incensed I stood.  "Well isn't this great?  I came here in good faith to spy on you and eat your food, and you plan to bite my tail?" They stared at me, wondering why this cat has gone mad.  I surprised them by stripping off my cat disguise and showing them I was Judge Foley Monster. And they surprised me by chasing me for miles through valleys and streams.

I stopped by the wooded area and turned around. The kitties were giving up the chase, and I saw why.  Laying by a log, there was a fox napping and in between its paws was my ho-bunny.  

You have to be careful, waking up a fox. It is better to let them lie. But I wanted to find out why he had my ho-bunny.  I tried to make some incidental noise by walking roughly on the ground and crushing twigs under my paws. The fox wasn't very attentive. Finally, he woke up and looked at me. I told him I admired his bunny and asked where he got it.

He told me he bought it from a sly Papillon.  The dog told him the bunny could run, and he could use it to practice.  But all the bunny did was lie there. The fox didn't mind. It was an excellent, snuggle partner.
Tell me about it.

I asked him if he would rather have something he could chase and snuggle with too. The wise fox said he would have to see it first.  I told him to follow me.

We reached my house Jax was sunning himself in the backyard.  When he saw me, the fox, and the ho-bunny he ran. The fox dropped the bunny in and scurried after Jax.
I returned the ho-bunny to the safety of my bed.  I looked out my window and saw the fox laying in the background with a big smile on his face.  He had his arms wrapped around Jax and was snuggling him. Jax looked quite perturbed.

Serves him right for messing with a dog's ho-bunny.

River and the Broken Mug

One of the worst things that have ever happened to me occurred last week.  My Dad dropped my mom's mug with a Griffon on it, and the handle broke off.

Admittedly, I have not had the most traumatic life.  I have always had a home. I have never been sick, and except for having my who-who turned off, I have never had surgery.  I haven't even been left with a stranger when my parents went on a trip. So imagine the trauma an innocent such as I suffered when the mug broke. 

This was the tea mug Mommy used in the evening.  She also has a mug for morning tea and another for midday tea.  No wonder she pees so much: Too much tea makes you pee. The morning mug has a drawing of a Griffon's head.  The evening mug has a picture of an entire Griffon body with words “Mama's Little Girl” on it. Because that's who I am.  Mama's little girl.

.  Why do my parents have so many mugs?  Because they have a dishwasher to make life easier  Before the dishwasher they had one mug which they would wash out and have ready for the next meal.  But, now that they have a dishwasher, the cups get cleaned once a day which means my parents need several specialized mugs.   The good news is they saved themselves two minutes every day by not having to wash them. The bad news is that they have to work those two minutes to pay off all the mugs.

I like the evening mug because that is when I climb on mommy’s lap.  I get to see the mug and even lick it. I don’t know the morning mug too often.  I should, but mommy won’t give me lap during breakfast.  

The evening when the mug broke Daddy was carelessly picking up the plates and mugs to bring to the dishwasher.  He tried to balance the mug on a plate. He dipped the plate, and the mug fell. It landed on its side with the handle taking the brunt of the fall. The handle snapped off.

I gasped, Daddy cursed, Mommy sighed, Pocket slept.  When Daddy retrieved the mug, it was handle less. Time of breakage was listed at 10:15 PM.  The mug was buried under a paper towel in the kitchen trash can after a short ceremony. We all talked about how much the mug meant to us.  Mommy said she liked that it said “Mommy’s Little Girl!’ Me too.  

Daddy said he would replace the mug, but this was not a job for a man, this was a job for an Amazon. That night  I could not sleep, so I stole Mommy’s IPad and went through all the mugshots online. I selected one and asked the Amazons to craft it.  

They said it would be at the house within three business days, so I made sure I did my business outside so the days qualified.

The man in the big truck brought the mug two days later.   Daddy opened it and gave it to Mommy. She was thrilled with it, and so was I.  Those Amazons really are superheroes.

Here is a picture of the mug.

Does it look like anyone?

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

One remote controls the TV, one controls the DVD player, and one controls my parents.

Monday Question

How much do fireworks bother you?

Pocket:  I get more bothered than River, but the fireworks don't upset me as much as thunder.  We are lucky.  We don't have fireworks set off in our neighborhood and our city holds their firework display until the end of the summer.  Good luck everyone.