Pocket the Princess

 

I was sitting on a pony trying to balance while holding a lance as a giant galloped towards me, intent on knocking me off and sending Pocket and me to boiling oil and prison. 

The only advantage I had was my lack of size. I bent over the horse's neck as the Giant passed me, and his lance grazed over my head. 

This occurred several times as the Giant came closer to knocking me off with each pass. Also, I had no offense, so it was a matter of time before I was knocked off. 

Pocket knew we were in danger, so she ran across the field and nipped at the Giant's horses' hooves. The stallion, not familiar with such a tiny dog, was startled and reared up on its back leg. The Giant was unable to hold on and crashed to the ground. We were victorious. 

The Giant, who was undefeated, challenged the outcome saying Pocket illegally interfered. The king was ready to make a ruling when a prince stepped forward and said Pocket was the bravest soul he had ever seen. He was smitten and declared he wanted to make Pocket his Princess. 

To my surprise, Pocket graciously accepted the offer, and suddenly we were both whisked away by a bevy of handmaidens who prepared Pocket for her royal wedding. She insisted that I be her maid of honor. 

I was worried my sister was rushing into marriage, But I was comfortable knowing it was a fairytale wedding that always ends happily ever after. Pocket said the entire family could move into the castle where we could live peacefully, at least until the tide came in and washed us away. 

The wedding was approaching when the Queen asked Pocket to meet her for brunch. I accompanied her and became frustrated when everyone assumed I was her servant. Princess Pocket was going to be a tough title for me to swallow. 

We went into the parlor for tea, and Pocket jumped up on a chair. "excuse me," The Queen said, "we don't allow dogs on the furniture." 

Pocket immediately realized she could not live in a castle and be regulated to the floor. She whispered to me the wedding was off. We were in for the door with the Queen's men and the lovelorn Prince in pursuit. 

This time we used our size to our advantage. We slipped and darted through the legs of our pursuers, who were hampered by their armor. We made it outside and saw the knights were going to pursue us. We had no choice but the back kick sand on the castle until it collapsed, saving our land from marauding knights. 

When we got home, I could tell Pocket was disappointed at not being a princess. I brought the pack together, and we did a coronation ceremony naming her princess of the family. I have never seen her so proud. 

After it was done, I congratulated her on being a princess and reminded her that I was the Queen. 

She was happy with that as long as she could get on the furniture. 

The Sandcastle

 

Pocket came home covered with sand. Blake, who never gets angry, was annoyed that she had to clean the floor again after doing it a few hours earlier. Out of all your dogs, she is the most like her mom.

Pocket doesn’t like getting dirty, so her being sandy is strange. The next day she got up early and slipped out of the house. I am a sensitive sleeper and heard her jump down, so I followed. 

She walked down to the beach and stopped by a massive sandcastle. I didn’t mean to expose myself, but I was shocked when I sat it and barked at Pocket, asking if she had built it. 

Pocket was startled when she heard me, then ran into the sandcastle. I followed her into the entrance and found myself in a giant foyer lit by candles on the wall. I called her name and then saw a suit of armor on the wall moving, and I told Pocket to take it off and stop being silly. Suddenly the knight removed a sword and thrust it at me. 

“Pocket! What are you doing?” I asked, then I heard a yip behind me, turned and saw Pocket hiding in a corner and frantically motioning at me to join her. I looked back at the knight, who had lifted his sword in the air, ready to cut me in two, I ran to the corner almost getting cut in half when he swung.

“Pocket, what have you done?” I asked 

“I don’t know. I built this castle and came back to play with it in the morning, and the place is filled with knights, maidens, and kings. None of them will listen to me.” I asked Pocket an important question: Had she wished her castle were real. She sheepishly admitted she had. 

When you’re an excellent angel like Pocket, and you wish for something to become real, sometimes if you do it when the sun is at a certain point in the sky, and the winds carry wishes, it is granted. That is when the real troubles start. 

The knight cornered us, and the king appeared. He asked what we were doing there, and Pocket tried to explain about her imagination. One of the Queen’s ladies declared Pocket a witch. The king announced they would boil her in oil when I suggested a trial by combat. 

I had no idea what combat Pocket could win, but it would buy us time. Then she asked if she could have a champion participate for her l, and they said yes. I hoped she would pick a big, hulking man, but she chose me.

And that is how I ended up on a pony with a lance in my hand, ready to do combat with a giant called the Beast. Pocket would be boiled in oil and put in prison if I lost, and I would probably be with her. The Beast began galloping towards me.

Darn it, Pocket, you’ve done it again.

To be continued

Sabrins Lends a Paw

 

I thought there would be no money or an economy to worry about when I crossed the Bridge. For the average Angel, that is true. Yet every civilization has a currency that it uses to function, and for centuries it was managed poorly. But then Hobo Hudson came to the Bridge. 

Hobo went from a dog who spent all his time tied to a tree to becoming part of a beautiful family, an author, and an extraordinaire business dog. His investments in the bone market were equivalent to JP Morgan. He became the richest dog in town and strengthened the dog economy. 

When he got to the Bridge, I told my old friend it was time for him to rest, but after a couple of days, he grew restless and needed to put his mind to work. He inquired about the Bridge's governing budget, and I told him I didn't know but would check. I discovered our accountant, a wise owl, had flown the coop, and the position of Bridge Treasurer was open. I recommended Hobo, who was gratefully welcomed and soon got to work balancing the books. Within a day, I heard him barking that there was no fixing the financial problems, and he hadn't sounded happier. 

But, lately, the happy sounds have become growls, and the financial situation has become bleak. I went to visit my good friend and asked what was wrong. He said the accounting issues were beyond him, and only one soul he knew who was better at bookkeeping than he was was his sister Sabrina. But, she was still with her parents.

Hobo knew she had been ill, fighting off kidney disease for a long time, but she was a stubborn Siamese and did not want to go to the Bridge. I encouraged Hobo to talk to his parents in their dreams, and help her cross over, so Sabrina's pain ended, and Hobo got help.

Hobo's dad said it was up to Sabrina, so Hobo visited his sister's dreams. They fought, with Sabrina arguing their parents could not handle it if she left, until Hobo, a master debater, convinced her that watching her suffer was harder than losing her. Sabrina agreed to go, and upon awaking, she gave her parents the sign that it was time. They took her to the vet, set her free of her pain, and took it on themselves.

All the members of the Hudson Pack are known at Rainbow Bridge, and cats and dogs attended Sabrina's welcome party. My cat counterpoint Paddy O'Malley and I were up to mischief, organizing dozens of speakers to welcome Sabrina, which we knew was a frustrated Hobo, who only wanted to get back to work .

By morning, Sabrina and Hobo were hard at work, arguing, laughing, and then silent as they both concentrated. I knew not to disturb them. They were two sibling geniuses who would make all our lives better by balancing our budgets.

I knew not to bother them but did order a case of bone beer to Hobo to mellow him out.

Poetry Thursday

 

 

Each week Angel Sammy posts a picture to inspire us to write a poem

This is this week's picture

And this week's poem 

I built a new pharmacy which I put all my money on

But where have all the customers gone?

I set the new hours, we would be up by dawn

But where have all the costumers gone?

You can buy polish for your french horn

Food for your swan

A chess set with an extra pawn

But where have all the costumers gone?

You can buy medicine to make you yawn,

swan, fawn and to help when you're withdrawn

 Supplements that will build your brawn so you looks like a 1992 Mo Vaughn

But where have all the customers gone?

Then I learned there was a new CVS across the lawn

No chairs no ice cream,no copies of Manon

Just a place where out of networks customers are drawn

That's where all the customers have gone. 

 

Wordless Wednesday Courtesy of O Dani Girl

 

Beat This Caption

 Being insecure about his hair, and unable to afford a toupee, before his big date Claude had to improvise

Monday Question

 

Do you get the same kibble, canned food, or homemade food a week, or do your parents give you variety?