Bullett and Bolt Find the Perect Dog to Rebuild Their Mom's Heart

 

Bullett and Bolt were two happy chocolate labs living an idyllic life with their childless parents, who treated them like they were kids.  Sadly, the lions came for them both, inflicting the two dogs with cancer and snatching them from their beloved parents.    Bullett and Bolt knew that their parents could not exist without a dog, and they immediately began searching for a replacement, but none of the applicants were suitable for their parents’ needs.   Also, they were so broken-hearted; anytime the angels tried to broach the subject in their parents’ dreams, their subconscious blocked the word dog, making their efforts futile.

Instead of being discouraged, Bullett and Bolt saw it as an opportunity to find the perfect pup.  They slowly and methodically interviewed pups with no luck.  They did not know the right candidate was not yet in the shelter.

Meanwhile, Floyd, a two-and-a-half-year-old Great Dane, born in a shelter, then adopted, was returned when his family could no longer care for him.  For six months, Floyd was a sad pup, with little hope of a family, until one night, Bullet and Bolt interviewed him in his dreams.  Floyd presented himself as a well-trained, intelligent, loving, and protective dog. Personality-wise the angels thought they were looking in a mirror.  Bolt said they would tell their parents they found the perfect dog, but they didn’t know if their words would penetrate the wall their parents had built around their subconscious.

Neither of their parents mentioned that they thought they were ready for a dog, not wanting to reopen a wound.  But, both had pups on their mind, and they were susceptible to dog-related suggestions.  

First, they dream suggested to Floyd’s caretakers that they do a Facebook post relating the dog’s story.  When the people arrived at work the next day, it was the first task they completed.

Floyd’s availability now easily verified, as was the information about adopting him; Bullett and Bolt entered their parent’s dreams and continuously told them about Floyd.  They did so all night, like furious telegraph operators on the Titanic who kept sending an SOS hoping someone heard it.

The angel duo was lying on the kitchen ceiling the next morning when their parents met at breakfast and simultaneously remarked that maybe it was time for a new dog.  The mom, who was always the more attentive, said she would poke around the Internet to see if any dog was available.  They agreed they were no in a rush.

But, when the mom saw Floyd, she knew she had to make him part of the family. She called the shelter, and both she and the woman who answered the phone were thrilled to learn he was available, and she was interested.   

That afternoon the couple who were not in a hurry rushed to the shelter and, just as Bullett and Bolt knew they would, fell in love with the rescue and brought him home.   

They were warned of Floyd’s quirks:  He did not like children, cars, things with wheels, and he needed a cytopoint injection every month to support his immune system.  None of that bothered his new parents.

Today Floyd is getting daily walks, new toys and has run of the house.  Most of all, he is succeeding at the job Bullett and Bolt needed him to do. He is rebuilding his parent’s hearts, and the two angels will be forever in his debt.  

Who Needs Branson and Bezo When You Have River and Pocket?

 

I, Foley, often report to my mom about my sisters' activities.  This is one of those reports:

If only you were aware of what occurs when you are away. 

On Saturday, as soon as your car left the driveway, River opened Pocket’s crate and told her she needed assistance. 

Pocket groaned. Having lived the first half of her life with me, she knew that she was only needed for bad things. She told River she was too old for adventures and, after nearly 14 years, had earned the right to rest. 

River said that she got into a Twitter war with Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos to go deeper into space. “As a fellow billionaire, I must meet their challenge.”  

Pocket reminded River she was not a billionaire. 

“I have eaten a billion kibbles.  And they are stored in my belly. I can regurgitate them when needed.  It’s a new currency I created with another billionaire friend Elon Musk:  puke coin.”

Pocket considered River quite insane and doubted she had a rocket. Still, she balked at going until River told her you were bringing home chicken and she would give Pocket her share. Puke coin billionaires are crafty. Pocket knew it was a lie, but she could not pass up chicken and agreed to go. 

River removed the top of the air conditioner vent and slid down, followed by Pocket. Once there, Pocket saw the rocket ship. “How did you get it down here?” An impressed Pocket asked. 

“I didn’t. Ugly Joan, the feral cat built it.”

“We are going into space in a rocket built by a cat?”  Pocket exclaimed. 

“Why not?  Alan Shepherd went up in a rocket built by a Nazi. We are all comrades in space. “

River got in the pilot's seat and Pocket the one behind it. She didn’t think they would ever get off the ground, but when River started the engine, the rocket jumped through the slats, cleared the neighbor’s roof, and jetted into the sky. 

The G forces pushed them back in their seats. River held an altimeter in her hand. When they reached the heights, Branson had River turned to Pocket and said she was leaving her mark.   They were at zero gravity, so River tied her leash to her seat, opened the top of the cockpit, floated into space, and peed, marking this height as hers.  Impressively, she had written her name.

Satisfied with her achievement River got back inside just as the rocket tipped and sped back into the atmosphere.  Something buzzed by the window, and Pocket saw a modified fighter jet built for high altitude.  “It’s the space force!” River yelped.  “There must be a UFO around here.”

The jet fired two more times, narrowly missing them.  “Yeah, it’s us!” Pocket yelled.

“Well, they aren’t taking me down without a fight,” River vowed.   She reached over and pulled out a gun.

“You can’t fire on the space force!” Pocket cried, but Griffons weren’t built on listening.  

River fired two shots.  “Are those missiles?” a trembling Pocket asked.

“No, it’s cat poop surrounded by litter.”  The space force had thought of every contingency in building their space war machine, except one—windshield wipers.  Ugly Joan’s poop hit the glass, blinding the pilots as my sisters’ ship fell from the sky.  

First, my sisters celebrated, but then they realized they were free falling.  “Don’t you have a way to stop it?” Pocket asked.

“We never thought about landing, only rising,” River said.  “It’s okay,” she tried to calm Pocket.  “We’ll be fine.  All I have to do is aim for the birdbath.”

Pocket braced for impact.  The rocket hit the fern trees by the birdbath and got caught in the branches.  My sister climbed out, and Pocket swore she would never leave the ground again.

They got in the house, and River began to make plans to get the rocket back under the house when they heard it refire.  My sisters ran to the window to see three squirrels in the cockpit disappearing into the blue sky.

Now, thanks to River, we have space squirrels, creatures too hideous to consider.

But, until the space squirrels attack, River is satisfied that on this day, she went faster, higher, and longer than any Griffon ever!

Wordless Wednesday Ten Year Flashback: 7-21-2011

 

Beat This Caption

  

\What do you mean you are deciding not to get the vaccine?  Can you do that?  How come I can't?  I am tired of living under an oppressive regime that doesn't care about my rights.

Monday Queston

 

What is the worst thing you have done when left alone?

Finley Comes to Rainbow Bridge

 

When my dear Blogville friend Finley Westie crossed the Bridge, she was greeted by her sister Whitley who barked, “What the hell are you doing here?

IWhat made Whitley react harshly when greeting Finley was a promise the latter made to stay with their mom and teach her siblings to be proper pets. Whitley saw her arrival as breaking a vow. 

“I couldn’t stay forever,” Finley defended herself. “I tried to hide my pain from mom, but you know how perceptive she is. When I became incontinent and couldn’t settle down without yelping in pain, she made a choice to send me to the Bridge because she cares for me more than she loves receiving my adoration. She would sacrifice her heart to take on all my pain so I can be comfortable once again. 

Even Whitley, who is totally devoted to their mom, had to admit Finley tried to fulfill her promise.  She gave her sister a hug and kiss and welcomed her to a new life at Rainbow Bridge. 

I often concentrate on the pain felt by parents when a dog crosses the River, but they are not the only ones to suffer. Finley left behind Brinley and Kinley, who never expected that either one of them would have to take over her role as the boss. 

Before her departure, Finley gathered the Harris family pets, including Kitty Bowie and Angie the cat, together. He told them that she would soon be departing to the Bridge, and one of them would have to be the head of household. They knew from watching Finley what an arduous task that was, so none of them stepped up to take the role.  Finley selected a reluctant Brinley even though she secretly thought Angie would fill the void because cats abhor a vacuum.  Of course, to be in charge means forgoing the nip, which is a tall task for any addicted cat. 

Having set her affairs in order, Finley was ready to leave her family and friends to sail on the River of LIfe into the sunset until she reached the Bridge. Along with the love she gave her mom Finley also provided a valuable lesson. Finley was her last dog acquired from a backyard breeder who was more interested in money than healthy dogs. Finley suffered through heart murmurs and allergies her whole life. Some parents may have found her upkeep too much to handle, but her mom kept her on the mortal side for more than 15 years through the power of love and prayer. 

Her mom treated her to one final night of family fun as she got ice cream and steak, a fit final mortal meal for any dog, plus lots of love and attention from everyone. 

Soon the Angel Westie duo was joined by Crocket, Jezebel, Charlie, and Maurice the Harris’ family  Angel cats. They had fallen asleep and missed Finley’s arrival; at least, that was their story.  Cats keep their own schedule.

They found a tree to lie under and exchange stories. Their laughter sounded like soothing music. Finley and Whitley were reminiscing about when they would ride in the basket attached to their mom’s bike handlebars. The three cats told them they had a surprise for their dog brethren. They ran behind a bush and returned sitting on a bicycle made for three with a wire basket on top of the handlebars. Jezebel told the two dogs to hop on board. It was bike riding time. 

The sight of two dogs sitting in a basket of a bicycle built for three pedaled by three cats may be an unusual sight on the mortal side, but to us, it's just the sign of another sweet family reunion

When Monty Jones His Pack at the Bridge Foley Decides To Confront the Big Guy

When I first arrived at the Bridge and had not learned of the arbitrary manner that pups cross over, would, after a friend passed under extraordinarily tragic circumstances, climb the highest mountain to where the Big Guy resides, (so he can see both sides of the river), to rail at him for the unfairness of the latest passing.  The longer I have been here, the less I make that journey.   But, when Monty passed, just weeks after his sister Heidi did did, the pain their poor mom was forced to endure enraged me.  Unable to control my anger I put on two pairs of snowshoes and began to ascend the mountain to let my displeasure be aired. 

    Perhaps, my anger was fueled by the fact that Monty. Heidi, Meeka, and Missy-Diva were Yorkies, like me, and old online friends.  But, I like to believe I would take up the cause of any mom who had her heart ripped apart just as it was being rebuilt.  

I found the Big Guy sitting on a stage high above me in an old wooden chair writing like he was running out of time. Without lifting his head he asked me how he could help. 

It always unnerves me how he knows I am there before I enter. I looked up at him and said I believed there had been a mistake because my friends Heidi and Monty had arrived at the Bridge just weeks apart. 

“There are no mistakes,” he said, “only unfortunate circumstances.”

“Well, I have been up to my neck in unfortunate circumstances for weeks.  I have written so many blogs for passed friends the obituary writers guild is asking for dues. Still, I haven’t complained. But taking Monty and Heidi so close together is cruel.”

“Every death is cruel,” the Big Guy said.   “But, things cannot be changed, it has been written.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t write so much all these deaths would stop.”

He chuckled.  “If I stop writing all life ends.  In December of 2020 I got a cramp, paused, and when I looked down at the page COVID had happened and millions of people died.  All of them were tragic too, but there was nothing I could do.  It was written. 

“Then the prayers came for the deliverance from the disease, so I created several vaccines, and people didn’t like my answer and rejected it.  Sometimes I think I gave them too much free will.  It makes them unwieldy.”

As usual, while well-spoken, his words were a worthless riddle.  I was going to leave but paused to ask how the Yorkie’s mom was supposed to survive having her heart ripped from her chest again.  

“I have given humans all the tools they need to survive including the passing of multiple loved ones, but two of those tools are sadness and tears, which need to be suffered through, so the heart and the will to go one becomes stronger.   I think your friends knew that, if you had taken time to question them with the intensity you did me.   Now, I must get back to my writing, so,” he coupled his hands over his mouth, and blew, sending me out of his cave, down the mountain, and back to Doggyspace.   

There I found Monty, Heidi, Meeka Missy Diva, and their dad, who shares a birthday with Monty, and was the last dog their dad bought for their mom before he crossed, playing ball, but mostly rolling on the ground together, giving licks, hugs, and cuddles, as happy as they were when they were young and mortal. 

I don’t know why, but seeing them together happy and carefree, made me realize the tool that the Big Guy gave everyone, which is time.  It does heal, and it gives and takes, but it leads to the Bridge, where eternal happiness awaits.

I just wish for Monty’s mom’s sake the waiting for eternal happiness was not so painful, but needs to be