Nearly Wordless Wednesday

Foley, less than a year old, with her sister Blake

The Unspeakable, Unthinkable Act Perpetrated By River Song (By Foley Monster)

You go, you interview dogs, you find the perfect replacement and then she goes and does the big unthinkable, the thing that no dog should do, the thing that could get her banned from doggy cyberspace, ostracized from the dog world at large.

I didn’t think of asking her if she would do such a thing.  Why would you ask such a question?  It’s not something I even considered.  I never heard of a dog doing such a thing.  It was so disrespectful, so rebellious, that I am shocked that it even happened.

So this is what happened.  River had taken a long nap and when she woke up she had the zooms.  You know what the zooms are don’t you?  That’s when a dog zooms around the house bouncing off every piece of furniture they encounter.  I found zooming very unprofessional  but some dogs need to do it.

And then she stopped, and she climbed up on, on it, and when she was on it, she did the thing, she did, the thing I can’t even speak of, it’s just too much.

OK.  I need you, dear reader to prepare yourself.  Assume the crash position.  Imagine the most horrible thing that could happen then prepare to hear worse.  Here it goes:  The thing she did.  Are you ready?

River jumped on, squatted on and peed on (deep breath) my Leopard Skin Vagina Kitty Condo Historical Museum.  She peed on the dog world’s Lincoln Memorial.  She whizzed on the Smithsonian.  She took a leak on the Liberty Bell.  She defiled the most historic site in the dog world.

I was looking in the river that flows under the Bridge where we can see what is happening on your realm and when I saw this I almost jumped in the river, robes and all.  Willie had to stand in front of me and Cassie bite my tail to keep me from breaking a huge Bridge Rule.

I waited until that night and I stormed into River’s dirty little single Mom dreams.  “Hey!” I yelled.  “What’s the big idea urinating on my Leopard Skin Vagina Kitty Condo Museum.  I swear if you got any pee on my Picasso you are going back to turning tricks on a Fort Lauderdale street corner working baby parts or not.

River sat up and looked down on me:  “Well Foley, I am part of a new generation, a generation that no longer reveres the old establishment.  We are new pups who don’t sleep in kitty condos and are going to improve the lives of dogs everywhere through new ideas.”

I shook my head and told her that we will see about that.  So please keep an eye out for the next three River Song blogs:

Hey I got Unexpected Explosive Diarrhea by River Song

Hey I got Pooped On by a Dozen Canadian Geese by River Song.

Hey I Have Figured Things Out, Am Cleaning the Leopard Skin Vagina Kitty Condo Museum And Will Guard It With My Life by River Song.

These young dogs have to learn not to mess with Angels, even the little ones, and to respect the Leopard Skin Vagina Kitty Condo

Annie is Foley Monster's September 1, 2013 Pup of the Week

There is no crying at the Bridge.  It is peaceful, beautiful, and calm.  The days pass in lazy bliss.  There are never any worries because when you are living in guaranteed forever what is there to worry about?   But on Monday I must admit, I cried such tears they dripped into the river separating our worlds, mixing with the tears of those you the living side.

On the other side of the Bridge, where the living roam, there was a persistent rain, caused by clouds filled with human tears.  The sun always shines at the Bridge, but these clouds of tears were so large they slipped across our persistent sun as Annie began to climb the stairs.

She should not be here, I thought.  We all have our songs, and they all end, but Annie’s was not supposed to end like this.  Yes, she had cancer, and it’s the reason many of us are here, but Annie had her leg amputated and the doctors told her Mom all the cancer was gone.  Then Annie learned how to walk on three legs, and not only did she learn to walk, she was pulling her Mom.  And boy did they love to walk.  Annie had two siblings, Wishbone and Blossom, but neither was the walker Annie was, even on three legs.

Her Mom learned everything there was to know about a dog with three legs, and together they were thriving.  For one week everything looked like it would be back to the new normal.  Then Annie had a little diarrhea, then she lost her spunk, and things went downhill.  Annie went back to the vet where they found that her tummy was filled with the cancer that was supposed to be gone from her body.  

The cancer had spread to her lymph nodes before the leg had been removed.  It seemed to all humans, on their side of the Bridge, that the entire experience had been for naught.  Annie had lost her leg, then lost her life, her Mom had lost her best friend, and their friends lost a little bit of faith.

And now Annie was at the bottom of the stairs at The Bridge, and all us dogs were crying, a little because of the sorrow we felt for those she left behind, but also in joy, and not just because the Bridge is such a joyful, happy, peaceful place, but because Annie was running up the stairs on all four legs.

She got to the top, and I swore her in, and then I took her aside before the other dogs could get to her, and I asked her why she went through it all, the surgery, learning to walk with one leg, the pain, when she could have just not woken up from the operation and come to the Bridge directly.

Annie put a paw on my shoulder:  “Foley, wouldn’t you give your leg, or even two legs, for just one more walk with your Mom, one more week to see her smile, one more week of snuggling,  wouldn’t you give up everything just for that?”

I felt another tear in my eye and I told her I surely would.

And then all the pups surrounded her including Dakota and they ran off to the fields and hills to play and I realized that everything Annie went through wasn’t for nothing, but for everything, because one more walk, one more snuggle, one more day with your Mom is worth a limb, worth so much more than a limb.

The Dog in the Mirror by River Song

It was a normal Sunday night.   I was in bed with my parents.  Because they are (a) impatient and (b) kinky I was hooked up to a leash that was connected to the headboard.  This is because I have the top part of the bed and Pocket the bottom part. But sometimes, pre bondage, I would hear a noise, and charge at Pocket starting a fight, or, one time, knocking her right off the end of the bed like Yukon Cornelius and the Bumble.

So I get tied up, where I can go half way down the bed, and Pocket only dares to go halfway up the bed, and we have bed detente, until Sunday night when I stood up, looked to my right and saw another Brussels Griffon in the bedroom sitting on the same type of bed.

Well I could not have this.  A Yorkie at the bottom of the bed is one thing but having a Griffon in a duplicate bed wearing a duplicate leash and a duplicate harness was another.  And with her permanent frown and one snaggletooth it was obvious that this Griffon was mocking me.

I began to snarl at it.  Mommy and Daddy told me to quiet down, that it was just my reflection.  My reflection was right.  A reflection of my personality in a sarcastic way that I would not stand for it.

I settled down in the bed, then poked up, and that naughty Griffon was poking her head up at me too.  The &itch.  I climbed on to my Daddy’s expansive belly just as the mocking Griffon climbed on her Daddy’s expansive belly.  I wanted to leap at the interloper and destroy her but unfortunately I was bound to the bedpost, as was the River impersonator.  

My parents kept telling me to settle down but I couldn’t stop poking my head up to see the poking doppelganger until Daddy got frustrated and put me on the floor.  I ran head first into the bureau trying to get to that dog.  Then I did it again, and again which caused me to stumble around.

Mommy and Daddy have lost three dogs to neurological problems and they became very worried that there was something wrong with me besides wanting to fight my own reflection.  They brought me into the living room and watched me walk for awhile and determined that I was fine.  They decided to put me in bed and shut out the lights but I still wouldn’t settle down because I wanted that dog in the mirror.

So, even though he hates to do it, Daddy had to take me out of the bedroom, put me on the couch, and hold me in a submissive position, which is exactly how my babies were conceived, until I calmed down.

WHen we got back in bed I spent several minutes giving Daddy a face bath which calms me down and then fell asleep curled into the same position all night exhausted.  When I awoke in the morning Daddy held me up to the mirror and showed me that it was just me in the mirror.

So I promised I would not fight my reflection any longer.  But I am going to get that popping Griffon someday soon.

Koda is Foley Monster's August 25, 2013 Pup of the Week

Last week I wrote about my wonderful friend Annie who had no choice but to become a triped when she was diagnosed with cancer in her leg.  Sadly Annie’s Mom found out yesterday the cancer had spread before the surgery and she is in need of major prayers.   And so does another dog who became a triped through stupid human error.

My friend Koda, while having one of the best families in all of the dog world, has not received a lot of breaks in the health department.  He is an oversized Lab with multiple health problems including bone problems in hips and his kness.  And then he hit a spot of much ill fortune.

Koda is on medication, as are some of the other members of his pack.  Koda’s vet made a mistake and put his name on pills meant for another member of his pack.  Koda’s Mom gave him the pills and he became loopy, then fell down, and when he did he shredded his ACL.

Both his Momma and I are very upset with the vetl.  His Mom called the vet and told her that she would never take her pet kids to  her office again.  I sent a huge flock a full geese to poop on the vet’s car and gave the vet fleas.  Not her office, just her.  Knock my friend down and hurt him and I am going to make you itch for a week.

Koda’s new vet gave him some pain meds to help him get through the day and to relieve the face swelling that was a side effect of the medication he should not have taken.  Before any of the physical problems that Koda developed because of his degenerative bone disease could be cured his thyroid problems would need to be treated pharmaceutically.

Once his thyroid problems are addressed then Koda is facing two more operations.  One is a hip replacement surgery as his degenerative bone disease has badly damaged his hip, and after that they can address his ACL caused by the know poo covered disgraced vet.

This fall, around the time of Baron Fest, Koda’s Mom and Dad are going to hold Farm Fest.  Unfortunately Koda, the leader of his pack, won’t be able to frolic with the other dogs.  But he was still be there to give his wise counsel, his leadership, and his friendship.

So please keep Koda, and Annie. in your prayers.  He has been one of our best friends for a long time and want him with his family for even longer.  He has a hard road ahead some of it as an oversized dog with three legs, but his heart is so big we know it will get him there.

Love you our besite, long may your adventures continue.

Wordless Wednesday

Queasy is the Stomach that Wears the Crown

I’ve got to tell you guys I am under a lot of stress.  Like many of you I never thought Foley would go to the Bridge.  At least not until she was 17 or 18, blind, deaf, gassy and senile.  But Foley slipped away in her prime leaving me totally unprepared to succeed her.

Foley passing to the Bridge at 18 would have put me in double digits agewise.  Her passing would be like Queen Elizabeth dying in a year or two.  And I would be Prince Charles.  A little too long in the tooth to assume the throne.  I figured by then there would be a third dog living with us, a right smart whipper snapper who could assume the law practice, Tanner Brigade reigns ,and chief blogger, while I lived out my days like a dowager princess.

But no, I, unlike Foley, who always chased greatness, have spent my life trying to avoid having it thrust upon me but now I find myself thrusted.  I do have a new family member, River, but she has a scandalous past, single mother, Miss Griffon Pump of Florida, and needs to have her image reformed before she even gets a whiff of greatness.

And, truthfully River is a cause of great stress.  I went back and read Foley’s blogs about when I first entered her life, a wild, untamable beast with unlimited energy that turned me into a total pest.  But I could not be as bad as River, who likes to attack me while I am sleeping, attack me while I am sitting with Mom, steal my ball from me, and being a cause of general unrest.

Plus there is Mommy who still gets hit with rogue waves of grief from Foley’s passing.  I hate to see her cry.  I try to comfort her and lick her tears but when a rogue wave hits you there is nothing to do but ride it out and that takes time.

Then there is Foley who keeps popping into my dreams, or maybe my nightmares.  Why aren’t I doing more blogs?  Why don’t we have any new law clients?  Are we meeting the needs of the Brigade members?  Why aren’t you being more comforting to Mommy?  Why, why, why?  Some nights I try to stay awake all night so I can get some rest.

But all these stresses seem to hit me in the tummy.  I think I may be developing a little doggy ulcer.  At least once a week I wake Daddy up and go outside and have the most vicious little doggy poo.  It is the kind you need to clean up with a straw.  Then I don’t eat breakfast.

By midday my tummy is better and I eat my breakfast, and then eat my supper and produce a perfect Pocket poo, and continue to do so until something else or someone else (River) causes me stomach unrest and I am waking Daddy up again.

I have done all the things I am supposed to, eating the chicken, the rice, the pumpkin.  But when my tummy gets rumbly from tension nothing helps but some calm time.

When I have runny poos it always makes Mommy and Daddy worry about me which makes me worry.  It’s kind of a vicious circle of poo.  And I lose all sense of privacy.  Both my parents watch my poo come out to see if it is solid.  Mommy looks at it like one of the royal family looking up Princess Kate’s whowho to make sure that the Royal Baby is actually coming out and Daddy watches like a crab fisherman pulling a pot on board on Deadliest Catch.

So I am trying to do exercises to keep calm, keep my thundershirt handy, try to stock up on pheromones, and hope in time I will adjust to my position and our pain at Foley’s passing will ease.

I am sure I will get there because I have such great help from my friends.