The Ruby Report: watching the times change

 

I believe a dog must keep quiet about what goes on in the house, but when our parents do something so egregious it affects the world.

On Saturday night after Mommy went to bed, I was placed next to her on the bed with a bone, which I first thought was a nice thing, but soon realized was meant to be a diversion.

It usually takes a few minutes for my Dad to get ready for bed, which leaves Mom and I alone, without his nighttime wheezing or blanket hogging. Those few moments are, outside of eating, my favorite time of day that does not involve food.

But my Dad was taking a long time coming to bed, and I hopped out to see what was taking him so long and see if he got his fist stuck in the toilet again. 

I wasn’t two steps out of the bedroom when I saw my Dad doing something that would change the course of life in the world.

He was on a chair with the clock in his hand which he was turning backward.

I barked, to get him to stop, and tell my mom to stop him (which failed.) He pretended he did not see me as he rehung the clock.

At first, I noticed nothing different, but I barely slept that night because  I had to wait until after the sun came up to see if he was successful.

The alarm goes off at 6:45 each morning, but this morning it was silent. I hoped it just didn’t ring but feared differently. An hour later my fears were confirmed when the alarm went off.

I crawled from beneath the covers and looked at the clock.

It said 6:45. 

My dad had turned back time, and no one had noticed.

I went to the master clock in the living room, looked up at it, and barked. “What are you barking at silly?” my Mom asked. Sure, I was silly, but she was the one unaware that my Dad had stolen an hour from her life.

As that day went along I experienced the result of his actions.

My breakfast was an hour late, my dinner was an hour late, and my bedtime was an hour late. And it would be this way until my dad climbs on the chair and turns the master clock back.

]I am afraid it won’t be until spring. 

Poetry Thursday

I looked up from my computer

When I heard the putt putt of the scooter

I knew this was how the demise of our happy neighborhood would begin

Because the whites are moving in

They will loudly play their podcasts on crime

They will hold brunch during church time

They will hike on trails where none of us have been

How are we going to handle it when the whites move in?

They will stink up the neighborhood with their imported artisan cheese

They’ll ask us to watch their little dog during their four times a year trips to Disney

The Amazon drivers will deliver to their houses four times a day and it will begin

As soon as the whites move in

They will sit on their porch sipping tea and eating almond scones and croissants

That they got from an overpriced farm to table restaurant. 

They never throw out their crap and will hold weekly yard sales selling old shoes out of a bin

That’s what happens when the whites move in

We’ll invite them over for a beer and they will ask for a micro brew

They’ll put a American flag and balls on the back of a truck with a bumper sticker about the Hong Kong flu

They will talk about golf, and pickleball saying victory is all in the spin

That’s what we will have to put up with when the whites move in

If you want us to give you a chance

Don’t fly the flag that says Trump and Vance

They will thump their Bible and complain of society’s sin

While voting for the man candidate that has committed the most, when the white move in

Barbeques with food cooked inside

Kids on bikes in the driveway the only spot they are allowed to ride

Loud Thanksgiving dinner with their kin

There goes the neighborhood, the whites are moving in

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

I'm sorry I have to send you back. I ordered the tuna

Foley's Blog4Peace

 

    

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, while the world reeled, I was a one-year-old dog who slept the day away in a crate next to an identical one where Blake the Shih Tzu, my mentor, waited for our parents to come home, blissfully unaware

When they arrived Blake and I, tuned into our parents emotions, knew something was very wrong, but we did not know what. Our Dad put us in the front seat of the car and took us across the street to walk at the State Hospital. On the

short ride I asked Blake what to do: “Just be a dog,”

My Dad parked in an auxiliary lot and let us out by a large, deep green lawn, The sun had begun to set over the trees, turning the sky orange. Blake and I got out of the car and ran through the grass with wagging tails and big smiles. In that moment everything else briefly faded, and our dad felt a moment of peace on the most violent of days. 

When he got home my Dad told my Mom, and she said it was because the soul of animals is where peace is found.

It would be proven true a month later when  Blake went to the Bridge and as my parents sat mourning him I got behind them and [et my paws into their back comforting them both.

From then on, whenever they were under stress, and needed some peace, the looked to me, or Pocket, River Song and now Ruby.

The best part of us being the givers of peace is that it takes no effort.

We can even do it in our sleep. Our soft breaths (or in Ruby’s case: loud snores) and the gentle rising of our chests, instantly brings comfort. It is literally a job we can do in our sleep.

We can tell when our parents are anxious, their scent changes. We go to them and let them rub our ears, and pet us. When animals smell that scent we are able to change ours to bring out parents a little peace. It is why our parents bury their heads in our fur.

Or they just watch us playing with a toy, or chewing a bone, to hold off the war and violence of life in the world.

And when we are gone they lose their greatest defense.

But, there is always another pet to fill that role.

It is why we are here.

 

The Ruby Rose Report: From My Upcoming Broadway Show The Miserable Bitches - "One Day more"

 

After being stuck in her crate for six hours with the TV on CNN Ruby was inspired to write a musical about what she saw, called Les Miserablbitches (The Miserable bitches)

Below is the lyrics to the last song in Act One called one day more.

I think you will find it timely

One Day More

Until we discover our destiny

After a year of endless electioning

Surely the orange man who did those crimes 

will be sentenced to do time

One Day More

I was not born in this country

After living here 25 years they wanted to deport me

One day more

Destined to go to a place I have never seen

From which three decades ago my parents departed

One more day before the storm

      Without the strong border we have no country

As we fight for our freedom

        they will not take my guns away from me

I have never asked for a man's protection

        God Bless America a country made for those who look like me

If I see him on the street that son of a bitch will need protection from me

The time is now the day is here

One More Day to a fraudulent election

We'll nip the steal  in the bud

We will watch those elderly volunteer pole workers

If we think they're committing fraud we will make them piss blood

Cut off the cock 

cut off the balls 

send him to school Chuck

 comes back Lauren Bacall

Their pronouns are they them and she

While mine are me me me

when he comes home strip down his pants to check his pee pee

One More Day to a new beginning 

From the fascist we will be free

Every vote will be counted

Until the race is called by MSNBC

Our democracy when threatened is always winning

From sea to shining sea

We owe it to our forefathers 

To protect this democracy

Where at least we'll be free

One day more

We will storm the Capitol Building 

We will take a dump on Nancy's rug 

We will hang Harris  and the  liberals 

and get pardoned in the name of freedom

They're eating the dogs 

they're eating the cats 

what we need is a demagogue

 to call them all rats

We will keep them all in barracks built-in liberal towns like Newton

We are doing God's work we don't need any absolution

Until we develop for these migrants a final solution

Tomorrow it won't matter what the pundits have to say

Tomorrow is the judgment day

Tomorrow we'll discover

What our God in Heaven has in store

One more dawn

One more day

One day more

           

       

Foley's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: Turning Ruby into A Turkey Wrangler

 

I love taking birds and butterfly bodies to fly around our pretty gardens. It is especially sweet since I when I was mortal, helped design them.

So, I was upset when I saw that turkeys were tearing up our yard.Wranglerr

Two things happened when I was mortal: No turWrangle eys ripBrtidgeped up our yard, and Putin didn’t invade Ukraine.

While Ruby can’t do anything about Putin, because she’s weak, she can do something about the turkeys.

When I was mortal and walking around the state hospital I would charge, barking sharply, with a ferocious look on my face, that would make them fly in panic, except that one time, when the geese were protecting their babies, and they charged at me. I’ve been off eggs ever since.

To save my yard I was going to have to teach Ruby how to make a group of birds fly away. I am going to make her a turkey herder.

“A what?” Ruby asked when I slipped into her treat and tummy rub dreams. 

“The turkeys have made a mess of the yard!” I barked. “They're eating the grass, they're eating the seeds, they're doing unmentionable things to the geese.”

“I don’t mind,” Ruby said.

Of course, she doesn’t. She doesn’t pee outside. I think she identifies as a house cat.

“It doesn’t matter if you mind,” I said. ‘Mommy doesn’t like it.”

“She doesn’t seem upset.”

“You don’t know her like I do.”

“I sleep with my nose up her ass, I don’t think you can know anyone more.”

The talk was getting me nowhere. I took her, in her dream state to the Doggyspace Park at Rainbow Bridge. A dozen turkeys were eating the grass. “Round them up!” I ordered.

“But they're not hurting anyone.”

Kids today! They don’t know what you have to do to keep control of a lawn. I told her to charge.

She did so reluctantly. She barely moved her legs.

“What the hell is that?” one of the turkeys asked. “Does it run on batteries?”

I had to step in and show her how it was done. Suddenly some ninja turkeys started clucking at me and doing somersaults.

I can’t stand being flipped the bird.

I told Ruby it was enough for today and sent her back to her warm bed.

These turkeys are tougher than I thought, but I have another plan.

Parsing Dr. Fudd.

Dr Elmer Fudd, 

“