Jackie Lynn is our July 31, 2011 Pup of the Week

What do you have to do to become a Tanner Brigade Pup of the Week?  Occasionally all you have to do is show up.

But when the showing up requires the coordinated efforts of several volunteers, a long car ride with your mates, and when you arrive at your forever home you meet the most flamboyant, funny, fabulous family on the Brigade, you move directly to the head of the class.

So we are very proud to announce our July 31, 2011 Pup of the Week:  Jackie Lynn.

When judging who we should give the most prestigious award in all of Pup blogging to we look to see who has become the center of the water dish conversation at the Brigade.  Since the brink of the weekend nothing was more important to us dogs and our slope noses, not the silly debt ceiling debate, not the baseball trade deadline, or football free agency, then how to get Jackie Lynn home.

Jackie Lynn began the week as one of Bit Bit's puppies so she was already family, but when we learned she was going to become Hattie Mae's sister, her apprentice, the next in line to the throne, and the title Diva of the Brigade, we knew this was something special indeed.  This was like Kate Middleton's chariot ride to Westminster Abbey, if she started the trip in Berlin and had to spend the entire time squished in the back of the chariot in a cage with Pippa.  For the men, we will pause, as you enjoy that mental picture.

Okay, back to the blog fellas.  A special thank you to the wonderful woman who organized Jackie Lynn's trip: Martha Chandler.  While us pups are the Lord's angels on this Earth, sometimes humans aide us in our mission, to bring love and joy to those we love to serve, our people. So let me say thank you to Martha, the pups whose transport you arranged will bring their humans such love and comfort that there is no way to repay your efforts.  Thank you.

Jackie Lynn's new parents did a leg of this run, taking them to their home in Virginia.  Hattie Mae let us know they were leaving and she asked for us to pray for their safe travel because it was a long trip, it would be late at night, she loves her parents very much, and her Mommy hid the key to her closet.  So she asked us to pray for safe travel and they did.

Late at night the Hattie Mae mobile pulled into the driveway and Jackie Lynn was home.  Hattie Mae was so happy to see her. A little sister is what she always dreamed of, someone to teach all her fashion secrets to.  Smartie and Fella said "Oh man, another one," but they knew their Mom and Dad loved Jackie Lynn and they would too, or at least tolerate her. 

Once she arrived home everyone rushed to Hattie's blog to see pictures of our new friend and learn more about her.  She looks so precious we all fell in love with her.  (I think some of the boys did so in a Biblical way.)

And finally there is the name.  Jackie Lynn.  There is no greater tribute to a person then to name your dog after them.  And there is no more deserving person to have a dog named after them then Saffron's and Sage'a late Mom, Jackie Pool.  Another human who recognized that we're angels caring for you humans, she devoted so much time and effort to us, until the Lord called her home, probably to take an important role in overlooking us universally.

It would mean so much to her to know that Hattie's new sister was named after her.   And now, whenever she looks into her new pup's dark, soulful eyes, she will think of her deeply soulful friend.

In the story of the life of Jackie Pool, this would be the last chapter, her friend Darla, sitting with a pup named Jackie on her lap, loving her like she loved the original Jackie.

Welcome to the family Jackie, yours, and ours, with dozens of members who love you deeply.

You will never be alone again.

Wordlesss Wednesday Beat this caption starring Nase

LATOYA!  YOU'RE FIRED

TWIB: This week in blogging. A round up of blogs we follow

This week Silvie of silvieon4 reported on the adoption of Libby, a puppy mill breeding female who is emotionally scarred  Her adoption had all of us doing the dance of joy.    I found out Pocket can't dance as she repeatedly tripped me.  Silvie and I should be on Dancing With the Stars. 

The Poodle (and Dog) Blog reported that Ozzy Osborne and his wife Sharon got a rescue Yorkie for the dirt cheap price of $10,000.  The money went to an autism charity held by Sharon Osborne's co-star Holly Robinson Peete.  Their other costar from "The Talk" Lisa Remini bit a postman on the leg at the bar. 

Wyatt from the Gardening With Wyatt blog went to a dog show and came back with some marvelous pictures of pups. 

Our good friend Nadine, who is mother to Buttons at the Bridge, gives us a list of three popular household items that may be dangerous to all pups. 

My good friend Kirby the Dorkie gave us a list of puppy do and don'ts.  This was especially cool because it was only for humans.  As always us pups can do what we want when we want because that's how we roll.

The Dogs in Brazil are still in desperate need of help.  They are losing their home and their shelter and so many dogs they are helping are going to go without aid.  With NFL training camp opening Pocket and I are scheming to kidnap Tom Brady so his model wife from Brazil Giselle Budchen will pay up and we will give it to our South American friends.  Kidnapping a grown man might be tough but if there are any two Yorkies who can do it.....well, we'll give it a shot.  If you have any spare change any little bit will help. 

A little low on cash and your pup is demanding new toys?  Check our Peggy's Pet Place to see how to make your own toys.

Love and a six foot leash shows you the best way to beat the heat is to find a nice spot in the shade and our blogger friend posts pictures of hot dogs enjoying shady spots. 

ATTENTION:  Our good friend Koli had to get rushed to the vet for labored breathing.  He is OK but might have allergies.  While Koli always writes a blog worth reading, with wonderful treats and great nutritional advice, this one concerns the health of our dear friend.  Let's all keep a good thought in our heads for Koli.  You can read about it here. 

Hey, do you want to see some Yorkie pictures of a dog almost as cute as me?  Check out My life in the dog lane and these cute pictures of Abby.

If you want to know how to create your own dog sympathy card for a Mom or Dad who lost a piece of their heart, check out the TaggerPaws Blog. 

Minnie and Mack find a poor pup locked in a car on a hot summer day and do the right thing. 

The Gang of New Yorkie upstage the "Rent is too damn high" guy by forming the "It is too Damn Hot" party.  But these clever New York Yorkies have a way to beat the heat . 

The Carny Dog Blog has the sad story of a dog named Diesel.  It is only the first part of the story and we hope Diesel's future becomes rosier in the second part. 

As always you should check Shiloh's K9 Horoscopes before you make a move. 

And finally, our friend Ashley Hill Owen of the Lucky Dog Rescue spends a night rescuing the beers from a local bar.  Of course Koli's Mom Aunt Jodi had a hand in corrupting the poor girl.  You can't expect a young girl from Mississippi to be able to have a dialogue about beer with a Canadian teen pop star.  While you're there check out the Pet Pardons Button and like the Lucky Dog Rescue on Facebook.

If we missed your blog this week we will keep our eyes peeled for it next week.

The Gustavson Pack is our July 24, 2011 Pack of the Week

Often life is like a trip at sea.  For days you have sunny skies and clear sailing.  Then the sea gets rough, a storm comes in, a sail is torn, the mast snaps, and you become swamped as your family starts to sink.  All you can do is chart your course and hold on tight.

That is what happened this week to our pack of the week, Fuzzy Bacon, the late, beloved macaw Irie, now flying at the bridge, their canine siblings, 12, Chappy and Whiskey, and their strong and courageous parents, The Gustavsons.

Their lives have gone up and down, listed from one side to the next, but under the study hand of their parents, they keep moving forward.

Fuzzy originally answered to Dexter when he was rescued by Roxy, Dutchess and their Natalie who fostered him until his forever home could be found.  That home seemed to belong to the Gustavsons who opened their home, their heart, and their great originality at naming pups, changing Dexter to Fuzzy Bacon.  When Natalie put Fuzzy in his new Daddy's arms he snuggled in with a sigh realizing this was home.  Each Gustavson pup came out to greet Fuzzy with various degrees of enthusiasm.  But he was accepted as one of their own.  Soon they were all playing in the yard.

Shorty after Fuzzy joined the family their macaw sister, Irie began passing blood through her cloaca which is a birdie butt and a good word to know in Friends With Words.  At first the birdtor thought it was just from her laying eggs.  But it was just the first swell of an incoming storm.


Like many of our rescue friends Fuzz had aggression issues.  Let's call them the dark clouds on the horizon.  His parents decided to send him to a K9 Clinic for re-hab, and, as we sadly found out this weekend, when someone says you need to go to re-hab, you do not say no, no, no.  But the clinic wasn't sure if they wanted to say yes, yes, yes because there were some "red flags" about Fuzz's personality that might prove to be too difficult to overcome.  His mother cried, knowing, at heart, Fuzz was a gentle soul.  His Dad gave him confidence, telling him he knew he could do it.

The wind began to rip at the sails.

Fuzzy was diagnosed as being a stealth aggressor which would be great if we hadn't already caught Bin Laden, and ironic since Osama did not eat bacon.  This means that he goes from being happy with his tail wagging to being angry without warning.  It would probably be easier for people to understand if it was called Nicholas Cage syndrome.  But then people would be confused that Fuzz's aggression came from massive amounts of cocaine and not something that happened in his past life.

Fuzzy had to go to pre hab before he went to rehab.  It is exactly what it sounds like, prison before re-hab, Lindsay Lohan land, when they watch you and evaluate how much rehab you need.  After that it was a trip to AA Aggressors Anonymous.    Fuzzy got dropped off and told his Mom and Dad he would do his best to make them proud.

The staff decided Fuzzy needed even more pre hab and obedience which was silly.  Whiskey was a tough rescue and his parents did a wonderful job with him teaching him obedience.  What was different with Fuzzy?  But the people at pre hab were "experts" so their parents  went along. 

Then the expert gave them the most distressing news.  He thought that Fuzz needed a new home.  That he needed to be an only dog.  They began the sad task of finding Fuzzy a new home.

Then his father came to a great realization, the "experts" were a bunch of ass hats.  Mom and Dad decided for a second opinion from another expert who was more pert than ex.  They found another person to evaluate our friend, this one came highly recommended by another dog owner they know.  So they busted Fuzzy out of rehab and brought him home, back to his family.  We don't know what the new expert will say, but whatever Fuzzy Bacon's fate will be it will be decided out of love and patience, and he's a very lucky dog to be a Gustavson.

But there are times the storm won't let you free. 

This week Irie the Macaw passed from this Earth in her Mama's arms.  From the Gustavson pack's blog breaking the sad news to us:  "Mom and dad were gently petting her and telling her how much they love her.  She had started pooping blood again, and even a trip to the vet yesterday was not enough to save her"

I don't know why such bad things happen to such a wonderful pack.  I have spent much of my life lying in the sun asking such questions. 

Life is a ride on rough seas.  Some days it's calm.  We've got to learn to enjoy the calm before the storm.


12, Chappy, Whiskey, Fuzz, Mama and Papa Gustovson, we love you.   We love your unwillingness to give up on a family member, the love your give our kind, the inspiration to others you give, the kindness, the wise advice, the friendship.

You are our pack of the week, and will always be number one if our hearts.

The Yorkie that laid the golden vick

I could have used your help this week.  I was in desperate need of a slop pass.  I was on the rice and chicken diet for three days because of loose stools.  I mean loose stools?  Come on!  Do humans pay attention to what comes out of them?  The noise.  The smell.  How do you manage to sit on the seat and still manage to get remnants on the very seat you are sitting on?  And you humans keep eating the same crap?  But it's 110 degrees outside, I am forcefully toothbrush mouth raped on a nightly bases, I have stress with the Ning weasels and I don't have the proper consistency for a couple of days and wham I'm on slop.  But I have to thank Kolchak's and Felix's Mom Aunt Jodi who suggested some yummy pumpkins that firmed me up like a virgin at the Spiderman conference at Comic Con.  We then had Poop Watch 2011 on Twitter with Koli and my tweet friend Princess Abby and by Friday afternoon I was like the goose who laid the golden eggs if golden eggs pickers made a face of extreme discomfort when picking up the eggs then tossed them in a big trash barrel with about two dozen other golden eggs.  Then when I came back inside the house someone stole my couch.  But that's a story for another day.  I also want to thank Aunt Jodi for convincing Mommy to do away with my ball gag tooth brush and use soft cotton on my teeth.  She's the best.  Also she had the brilliant idea of feeding my parents nothing but cereal.  Now I won't worry about them leaving remnents.  I just don't know why she stole my couch.  But that's a blog for another day.  So my golden vicks are back, my toothbrush has been thrown away, and Pocket Dog Dog Detective is working on the case of my missing couch.  Well, two of three ain't bad.

From the files of Pocket Dog Dog Detective: The curious case of Jodi Chick

My name is Pocket Dog.  I make my living on the mean, filthy streets of our Elderly modular home park.  Everybody here knows me as a dog who can get things done.  I ask them not to question my means,  my methods.  I'm old school, a pack of butts strapped to one leg, a Roscoe on the other, a denim diaper all I need to cover my butt.  I work alone except for my office girl Foley.  She's an old lollipop but she's quick on her paws and knows when to keep her tongue in her mouth.  Dames like her are hard to find in this biz.  She's good on one of those fancy new typewriter things, me?  got no use for them gadgets.  Carry all my knowledge under my fedora. 

The other night Foley put on a pot of Joe and went back to working that fancy typewriter when she stumbled across a case for Pocket Dog Dog Detective.  Two of our friends Kolchak and Felix were again given a tip of the hat for their skills at spinning a tale.  To accept the kudos they had to write about unknown secrets, something that always peeks the curiosity of Pocket Dog Dog Detective.  One of these unknown secrets was their Mom, a dame named Jodi Chick, or a chick named Jodi Dame, (got to stop chewing my pencils down to nubs) was once an actress and a singer.   I told Foley to ask the Dame her real name.   But the chick balked like a chicken on her last egg.  She said we would never be able to find the name she used when she was a working girl.  Well no one throws down the gauntlet of a challenge at the paws of Pocket Dog Dog Detective without me nosing it under something where I will forget where it was and will be forced to use some of my simollions to hire a dick to track it down. 

I reached out to my friends Koli and Felix asking them to spill the beans on their Mom's identity.  But they won't open their clams for nothing but their Mommy's yummy treats.   I told them that trying to keep a secret from Pocket Dog Dog Detective was like trying to sneak a doughnut by Daddy at breakfast time, sooner or later, you're going to end up with the hole.

I went back to my office stumped like a tree attacked by an obsessive compulsive rabid beaver.  Foley came in, freshly groomed, smelling like the valley in the early morning after you spent the night staking out a nut hoarding squirrel.  She reminded me we lived in a village of old timers who have nothing better to do then stare at the boob tube all hours and do something called crochet.  I had her look up that Humanbook site, the best thing to happen to a dog detective since kibble flavored smokes.  She printed me up a picture of the Chick in question and I hit the hard streets of prune town looking for some answers.

I scratched at the door, and when Mr or Mrs John Q Grandma shuffled to the door I gave them the same spiel.  I was looking for a child actress.  My Mommy had to have her left toe nail replaced and she was a donor.  It was a hard story but in these parts you can't show up at folks' door with nothing but muffins and a smile, you got to bring out the hard times stick whittled from a 1,000 broken dreams. 

Some of these old timers have been sucking oxygen so long they wouldn't recognize a photo of their own kin.  Others refused to answer the door living in fear of what goes on the in hard streets at the end of the perfectly manicured lawn.  Others opened the door, barely let me get a word out, and then ran out the back screaming "talking dog!"  But one lady looked at the photo, and handed back to me quickly, saying she didn't know nothing.  Barely looking at a photo and saying you don't know nothing is a sure sign of someone with something to hide.  And I don't mean the burned pie behind the toaster oven either.  I scratched on her door hard and she came back.

I told her you could never be too careful walking the hard streets here.  You're walking down to get the mail and the next thing you know your in the back of a van with a bunch of Mexicans headed west to pick fruit.  It never hurts to have a little Yorkie watching your back.

The old dame considered this then came back and stuck a post it note to my tail.  I chased that damn thing for 20 minutes before I finally barked to my short legged assistant for help.  I told her I had a tail on a good lead and needed her help tracking it down.  When Foley arrived I asked her to get the note, and, for being so prompt I told her she could take a whiff of my butt if she so choose, but she's a high class dame and passed on the rosy experience.

Foley got the note and pawed it to me.  Curse the damn thing it was in that foolish fancy typewriter scrawl that Pocket Dog Dog Detective can't 'cipher worth a dusty raw hide bone.  But Foley said she just needed to paw it into the fancy typewrite and we would have our answer.

I followed behind her because she's the kind of lollipop where the view is best from behind.  She then entered the code into the computer and the video came on the screen.  And I had solved the case of a chick named Jodi.

Now you can see what Jodi Chick did before she became a Chick and a dog blogger and loving Mom.  And remember no matter how hard the case you can count on Pocket Dog Private Dog.

Here she is:  Let's Go to the Mall starring Jodi Chick

Wordlesss Wednesday