Erin is the Pup of the week November 30, 2009

Some weeks Foley and I have to debate about who will be our Pup of the Week but this week it was simple.

This pup spent her Thanksgiving working on our site. Her initial efforts were stymied by the Ning elves but she would not be denied. She used her big, beautiful brain, and now, we have smiles everywhere, on our comments, on our replies, in our personal messages, everywhere.

We like to think that the Tanner Brigade is the best dog social network site on the Internet made up of the best dogs. One of the things that make it so special is all the smiles and there is one pup we have to thank for that.

So for giving us our smiles back, and for always being there whenever we become confused about the series of tubes that is the Internet, Erin is our pup of the week.

Congratulations Erin on a job well done.

Pocket tells the tale of how she and Foley Monster crashed the White House State Dinner

Of all the embarrassing situations my sister has got me into last weekend was the worst.

I should have known, given the problems Foley caused when she nipped the kitty, and the current administration’s pressuring me to abandon my independent run for Massachusetts Senate since I will not support a universal health care bill that does not include dogs, that we were not invited to a State Dinner.

But Foley insisted we were. Since she is an administer of a web site she has been given the codes to travel through the series of tubes which is the Internet and can pop up anywhere that has an Internet hook up. Because there are many such computers at the White House she insisted our access to the dinner would be a snap.

The actual invitation though, that proved to be a problem.

We went to the Groomer and Foley told her about the State Dinner and she laughed and scratched her head and told her she had the best stories. Foley huffed and spent the rest of her grooming in a snit. As for me, I sat very still, let them work their magic, rolled my little brown eyes at Foley’s impatient sighs, and eagerly snapped up her portion of the treats.

That night Foley arranged for our Mommy and Daddy to have their own special dinner in exchange for free advertisement on her Twitter page, and, once they were gone, Foley furiously began to pound her paws on the keyboard. She then barked at me to hop on the laptop. I did, and the next thing I knew we were being sucked through a series of tubes and popped out in a circular office with a blue rug and a beautiful American flag.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked Foley as we hopped down on the floor.

“You want to mark the carpet?” Foley said.

I nodded and together we sprinkled that blue carpet, and, who ever uses that round office, and whoever may use it in the future, needs to know, we marked it and it’s ours.

We went through the door and Foley told me that we had to run to the front doors so we would go in with the crowd. I wondered why, if we were invited, we needed to go through the line, but Foley, that old girl, is quite fast, and it was everything I could do to keep up with her.

We weaved through the people, who were too busy making sure their noses were held appropriately high to notice two little, well-groomed Yorkies, and took our spot at the back of the line. When we reached the front Foley said: “Foley Monster, accompanied by her sister Pocket Rocket Dog.’

The man in the suit flipped through the pages and said we were not on the list. Foley stood on her back legs and began to bark that this was discrimination, that the administration was anit-dogites, and what happened to the change we could believe in? Fearing a scene with so many media in line behind us, the man in the suit called in his supervisor who bent down, smelled us both, stated that we smelled like the rug, and let us in.

Do you know what we found out are alike? A State Dinner and a doggy park filled with six month old male puppies who have not been spade because they both have lots of humps.

I think Foley and I were the two prettiest Lollipops there because everyone wanted to have their picture taken with us: The Chief of Staff; the Vice-President (who is all hands, my tail got stroked more than it did at the groomers) and even the President himself who said Foley looked familiar, but my sister hurried us away before the jet lagged President could remember.

Then they announced it was time for dinner and I panicked because we did not have place cards. But Foley said our place was under the table where the good food always ends up. Made sense to me. We hunkered under the table and were getting great bits of fumbled portions. I told Foley the Indian Prime Minister ate like a pig and she laughed and told me that was ironic but I didn’t know what none of that meant.

Everything was going great and then little Malia came walking in and she started looking under the table. Foley and I were trying to hide under whatever the Indian guy was wearing when Malia looked under the table and said “Look it’s Foley Monster.”

The President stood up and said “Foley Monster, we did not invite Foley Monster.” I turned and looked at my sister and I swear there was steam coming out of my little ears. Foley didn’t let the steam bother her, she just grabbed me by the paw and said “run.”

We ran from under the table, and all these big guys, with ties, sun glasses and radios began running after us while the President yelled that he can’t even put on a State Dinner without it getting screwed up. As we ran down a long hall the men were getting closer and then we saw Bo the Presidential dog at the end of a hallway.

Bo ushered us into his office and locked the door. (No, I don’t know why the President’s dog would have an office but you’ve stuck with me this far, so why start asking questions now?) He asked how we got there and Foley told her about the computer codes. Bo asked for them. Foley refused. The bad men were banging on the door. I begged Foley. She told me she didn’t know if she could trust Bo. I nipped her. Bo said he was First Dog and if he couldn’t be trusted who could? The men said they were going to shoot off the knob. Reluctantly, Foley surrendered the codes, Bo typed them in, we jumped on the keyboard and were transported just as the bad men came through the door.

We got home and Foley put me in my crate and lay in her blanket just as Mommy and Daddy came home. We had to act like we had been sleeping all night and jump and bark when we really were just exhausted. Luckily, we thought, we had got away with our adventure.

Until the next morning when the newspaper arrived, and on the front page was a story about the couple who crashed the White House dinner with a picture of us with that grabby Vice-President.

Well, Mommy and Daddy were not happy at all, and Foley has been banned from the computer until further notice, which is why I am telling you this.

Foley is on her blanket. She’s ordered her own Blackberry so she’ll be back on line soon. She always has a way to find her way back online, and into trouble.

Some good did come of our escapades. Bo is now traveling around the world. While humans in different countries continue to fight, dogs live to love and to all be part of the same pack, and, since we have such control over our owners, this may be the best chance of ever having peace on earth for the holidays.

And you can bet Foley and I will be traveling again. So if you feel little paws under the table, or a little bit of warmth in your bed at night, just drop a bit of food, or enjoy the snuggle because it’s just Foley and Pocket having traveled through the series of tubes to your house.

We were invaded

On Monday we had a good day because Mommy couldn’t go to work because her blood sugar was high and she had to go to the doctor, so for most of the day we spent snuggled with her on the couch, until she had to go to the doctor, who told her the rise in blood sugar was due to stress. You know how to cure stress? Sit with two Yorkies in a recliner.

Then Daddy came home, and he was sitting on the couch, and Mommy was telling her about her day, when a door slammed outside, and Pocket went nuts, jumping up and down, barking and crying. Daddy looked over his shoulder and said, “we’re being invaded.”

I jumped on the back of the couch, and there was daughter #2 and granddaughters #3 and #5. Now I love all the grandchildren, I do, but I prefer #1 because we’ve grown up together, and #2, because she’s a sweetheart, and they know how to stroke and pet a puppy.

But #3 and #5, well one of them is fairly new, and one of them is almost brand new, she’s walking new, but new, and they tend to treat Pocket and I like we’re stuffed toys.

But I still have those dog tendencies I can’t control, like that creepy vampire dude who is in love with but still wants to kill the boring Goth chick, and I jumped off the recliner with my tail wagging and my tongue all curled up sniffing, jumping and barking just as bad as Pocket, who, as we have discussed, is unprofessional.

I was jumping, sniffing, crying, wagging, and then I realized I was acting the fool. Pocket meanwhile was caught up in her puppy enthusiasm getting under foot and licking everyone like she was an over caffeinated Adam Lambert. I retreated to Daddy, because, to Granddaughters #3 and #5 Daddy is grandparent #2, and for awhile he would be safe ground.

Pocket did everything she could to get #3 and #5 attention, but after they assaulted Grammy with the high blood sugar, they moved over to the Barbies. I don't have much use for the Barbies, and neither does Pocket really, but she has a secret shoe fetish, and Barbie boots often become Pocket play things, usually found between her teeth, and, when #3 and #5 discovered it, they did not take things well at all, yelling and screaming up a storm.

This scared Pocket off and she joined me on top of Daddy. Of course, with Barbie's unable to properly strut down the runway #3 and #5 found a new play thing, Daddy and his two stuffed Yorkies. But Daddy saved us and allowed us to slip back over to Mommy by doing what he does best, acting like a complete ass and entertaining the small minds of #3 and #5.

Then #5 found Pocket's green ball, and she tried to throw it, but she throws like a Browns quarterback. Pocket, who would chase the green ball into a burning building, took off after the ball, which dropped behind #5, causing her even more confusion. A confused Pocket is a barking Pocket, and then she starts being told to be quiet, and like any politician she hates being told to be quiet, and she argues, and I further sneak behind Mommy in the recliner.

Finally it was time to leave and #3 and #5 gave us kisses. #3 is a pretty good kisser but #5 puts her whole little mouth on us and just drools. It isn't much, but it is love. Then they are all gathered in their car seats and leave and Pocket and I curl up next to one another shaking and reviewing all the horrors we had just seen.

On Thanksgiving Mommy and Daddy are going to Daughter #2 house. Pocket and I can't go because daughter #2 is not much of a dog person. As much as they make me nervous I am going to miss playing with #3 and #5 tomorrow, and most of all #1 who I don't get to see as much as I like.

So Pocket and I will be sleeping most of the afternoon, maybe coming to see some of you in our dreams. You all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and you humans, if you feel little Yorkie paws at your feet, it's just Pocket and I having popped out of your computer in search of a little turkey.

Have a merry and a bright

Shadow is Pup of the Week for November 22, 2009

First, some business to take care of: There have been some Internet problems on all sites lately, I know those who use Facebook are having a terrible times with gifts and other applications. I know many of you have experienced problems here on Tanner Brigade and we are doing what we can. If your blog posts twice, you can delete one of the posts without deleting the others. I deleted some double posts last night, but left the ones that had been modified, like Hobo’s blog where a photo was added, or duplicate blogs that each had a comment. Foley is going into cyberspace for a mass meeting of social network groups to figure out a solution. If she pops out of your computer please put a stamp on her forehead and send her to us.

Now, for this week’s Pup of the Week: This is one of our sweetest little dogs. He knows how to take care of his Mom. When Mom had a bad back, this pup knows the best medicine: to sit with her and give her sweet loving.

Despite giving his Mom round the clock care, this dog has been able, not only to keep us posted on her health, but to take time to thank those of us who wished her well. Such thoughtfulness at times of personal sorrow is the sign of a special dog for sure.

Finally,this poor pup has been disrespected by Doggyspace, as so many of us have, and, this pup has come to realize that the place where happy pups come to play is here. So, while those on DS may not realize how wonderful he is, here he is our pup of the week.

For taking good care of his Mom, for taking time out for us, and for being one of the most special dogs we know, Shadow is out pup of the week.

An excerpt from Pocket's new autobiography "Going Rougff"

This is an excerpt from Pocket’s soon to be released best selling book “Going Rougff.”

When I announced my candidacy for the Senate people who were tired of “the same old political games” came to visit me to help with my candidacy. First they began to shuffle through my outwear. I was told my buffs, bandanas and jackets were not stylish enough (even my Tanner Brigade bandanna) for a candidate to wear. They wanted to go to a stuffy English dog store and buy me expensive, designer clothes.

I called Hattie Mae and she told me that my clothing was beautiful, and to snarl at, and bite them. But I can’t snarl and bite anyone, so Foley did it.

Then they sent in another consultant who recommended a tail extension, contact lenses to make my eyes blue, and a weave to wear so, instead of going out in public sporting my usual puppy cut, I would go out in a show cut with all my “hair” sweeping the floor. I talked with my groomer, Jen, from Groomingdales in Lakeville MA, and she said these extensions could ruin my already perfect hair. I had to tell the consultants I would not heed their wishes, and they stormed out of the house to meet with a Shar-Pei in Chelsea.

And then, get this, they had this man come in and say that they had done research and that I had a high approval rating with men because they liked my tail. They liked the way it swayed back and forth while I walked. What a bunch of sickos.

Then it came time to take my picture for some publications, and the photographers kept asking me to turn and I realized they were trying to capture the curve of my tail. I am a serious political candidate, not some sex symbol, and I stormed out of session asking Foley to have the room cleared. When I returned they were taking pictures of the curve in Foley’s tail. Old age makes you do some odd things.
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So my backers were furious with me, and it was that point that I decided to go rougff. I would, win or lose, do things my way.

Next excerpt: Pocket’s Katie Couric interview.

Josie is our November 15, 2009 pup of the week

Well this was a tough week to pick our Pup of the Week. Pocket and I spent most of the day discussing the candidates.

We are very worried about our friends Pepsi and Ladybug. We are praying they are going to be fine. Also our hearts are breaking for Roland and Savannah who lost their beloved kitty Oreo.

Pocket kept coming back to one of her favorite candidate, a Yorkie with a bad tummy who is running for Senator. I had to keep saying “Pocket that’s you.” She kept saying “Who is you?” I said “I’m Foley,” and then we’d go around again in a big mess like the Cowboys offense.

But we finally settled on a pup for several reasons. (1) Her Mom did a wonderful thing; (2) while she may not have realized what a wonderful gift she has received I’m sure she will soon; (3) We chose the older of the two pups because she has had lots of change in her life recently.

So, our pup of the week is Josie the Grouch. (This also dovetails nicely with the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street.)



First, kudos to her Mom: While in her local police station she saw a poor, unloved, starving pup, and brought it home, to give her love, and a life. Now Josie and her brother Koda did not react well when this pup, beautifully named Bella, was introduced to them, but there are many reasons humans don’t understand that trigger this behavior.

Dogs carry so many smells, of other dogs, of fear, of pain, that sometimes when we’re introduced to that smell we react poorly. I am sure the more Josie is around Bella, and the cleaner and more pleasant smelling she becomes, she will fully welcome her as a sibling, and teach Koda to do the same.

And, as an added inducement, may I say that Pocket and I have awarded the second Pup of the Week to Josie, and if she doesn’t accept Bella as a sibling, we could end up looking really bad. So, if you can, think of your two sexy little Yorkie friends and remember our sterling reputations.

But I know you won’t have to do that. You may be grouchy, but you are a beautiful and smart dog, and you are our Pup of the Week.

Pocket Update: Bland rice diet and firming up the Vick

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my wonderful friends who have sent me the warmest get-well wishes over the last week. Each one has made me feel a little bit better.

I am still on my bland mostly rice diet, and I do not like it at all, but Mommy gets so concerned when I don’t eat that I scoff it down. Plus it is supposed to firm up my Vicks. Daddy says rice is the main staple of many culture. I seriously doubt that’s true. I checked Wikipedia and no country has a gross national product of excellent poo.

I so miss regular food. Friday night I was in position on the couch, and began to bark when the pizza guy arrived, but, when Daddy went outside, the pizza guy told Daddy it was the wrong order and had to go back to the pizza store. Then I had to get back on the couch and stare out the window, do the barking thing all over again, and I did not even get a taste! Man! You telling me they couldn’t order rice pizza?

I haven’t had the rumbly tumblies since I began eating the rice. I don’t like the rumbly tumblies at all. When I get them, I curl into a little ball, and don’t want to be touched, which makes Mommy and Daddy want to touch me. I just want to tell me to leave them alone. Then I start leaking. It’s just so embarrassing, and it takes a lot to make me embarrassed.

I have also been forced fed this ugly pink stuff called pupto barkmo. Mommy cradles me like a baby, which I love, but then puts this tubey thing in my mouth and squirts the barkmo into me and I hate it! But I kind of like licking it off my fur afterwards.

I am hoping to get back on normal food soon. I think my vicks have been better. I wanted to take pictures of them and put them on line but Foley said no. She’s less fun every day.

I will keep you posted on my health but I think I’m getting better and should be back making my public appearances for my Senate campaign soon. I think I can stay in the race with the wonderful help of all my friends. I hope to see you at my events.