Wordless Wednesday

River's Further Desecration of Foley;s LSVKC Causes Foley to Take Drastic Act

As my blog followers know when I lived on your side of the Bridge I slept in, entertained guests in, swam laps in, and watched movies on my widescreen TV in, my leopard skin vagina kitty condo.  When I crossed over the Bridge I asked my sister Pocket to turn the condo into a museum featuring historical artifacts of my life so friends from around the land could tour it.

When you undertake a venture like opening up a museum public relations is critical.  Any negative publicity could be disastrous.  So, when the soul whose name is going to be above the word museum gets a new sister who takes a leak on the roof of said museum it is reasonable to expect that anticipated traffic there will be lessened once the news goes viral.

Luckily, except for worldwide condemnation of my leaky sister River’s behavior, there was no blowback from the news.   But then River, who, I might add, was an unwed puppy age mother when I gave her a chance as my replacement on my Mom’s lap showed that the future of dogdom is in very poor hands, because she did not  heed my warnings about what I would do to her if she peed on my condo again, she upped her game.

She crapped on the roof of my condo.  My condo!   Where I sleep!  Where my children come and play with their toys!

Something needed to be done.  I visited Pocket in her dreams, told her that I was disappointed in her, and, to make it up to me, and properly punish River, Pocket needed to attack River and send her to my side of the Bridge so she would no longer be able to desecrate my kitty condo.

But should Pocket be absolved of all guilt?   (Being a Yorkie who has passed to the heavens and is still blogging on Earth I do feel a certain right to absolve.)  I say no!  So, to punish Pocket for not protecting the kitty condo, I visited River in her dreams and ordered her to attack Pocket and send her to my side of the Bridge as punishment.

Now don’t worry about your friends.  The two of them could not injure a grasshopper in need of a walker.  But I do take the utmost joy in watching the two of them go at it, snarling, biting, nipping and not inflicting a bit of damage on either one of them (although I do apologize to my Mommy who is left refereeing the battles, but just between us, she should have kept her eye on the condo too.)

This still left me with a security problem at my condo.  I first instructed Mommy to put the condo in her bedroom closet where no dogs are allowed.  Then I hired Max the ever awake security guard.  Here is a picture of Max guarding the entry of my condo.

Now there is a dog I can trust.  No needs, no demands.  If you visit the museum please heed him, he may look harmless, but you don’t want to cross him.

The museum is now open.  Stop by and visit.

Sorry for the smelly roof

Einstein is Our October 6, 2013 Pup of the Week

As far back as I can  remember, when Doggyspace was nothing but a bunch of styrofoam cups connected by string running from doghouse to doghouse, there was Einstein.  

I envied Einstein all my days on Earth, and, when I went to the Eternal Side of the River of Life I continued to watch and admire him.  While I was a stagnant pup Einstein was flying during agility drills.   I was fascinated with his stories about being an agility dog, how he could vault over gates, dart through tunnels, dodge pylons.  He was like knowing a famous athlete.  An athlete who was sweet and did not stick needles in himself to strengthen his chances.

Einstein, along with Moses and Teddie Bond, were the first dogs who made me realize my mortality.  While Teddie and Moses crossed the Bridge Einstein, despite what seemed very dire circumstances, managed to stay on the living side.

Einstein, back in those early days of cups and string, informed us that he had a flipped stomach.   This scared the bejeebers out of me.  I didn’t think anyone could have their stomach unflipped.  Not only did the good doctors successfully flip his stomach back to the normal position but he also returned to agility drills letting me live vicariously through him as he won ribbons  and I sat on my Mom’s lap.

Recently I was looking in the River of Life, excited to see Einstein zigging, zagging, leaping and darting when suddenly he looked like he stepped on something and, even though he finished the course, I, and his Mom, knew something was wrong.  His Mom ran out to him, and picked him up.  She was afraid that he had torn his ACL, and she was right.

You would think that after having his stomach flipped and reflipped that Einstein would not have anymore surgeries in his life, but he is scheduled for another one.  

So please say a prayer for our handsome boy because he does love to do his agility, has already had to fight back from one very serious surgery to get back in the ring, and now has to do it again. We know Einstein very well, his strength, his determination, and we are sure he will be back to doing what he loves to do soon, but a few prayers never hurt any dog.

And Einstein when you get back in the ring know you have an Angel on your shoulder cheering you on.

And, if you want PEA’s, Performance Enhancing Angels, just let me know and I will be the wind beneath your paws.

River Plans for K9 Kamp

Hello it is I, River Song, taking over as your Monster Pack correspondent for K9 Kamp because Pocket says memories of performing the camp with Foley makes her melancholy but I think she wants me out there hitting the pavement so she gets Mommy’s lap.

I love all sorts of exercise.  My favorite one is the zooms.  That is when I run back and forth, leaping from piece of furniture to piece for furniture, bouncing off the back of the couch like The Rock ready to drop Griffon’s elbow, and running, stopping, turning, and running until I collapse.

But I do provide quite the challenge for the walker, which would be my Daddy.  I am descended from the dogs of Mid-Europe who are known for their unique walking styles, featuring starting, stopping, turning, jumping, and attempting to knock down our companion like a wobbly bowling pin.

Now I don’t mean to brag but I think I am one of the most creative walkers in the dog world.  I am trying to get Pocket to walk like I do because I think we could go for the gold in the synchronized walking event in the dog Olympics but she insists on walking in at least a semi-straight line.

This is an example of my walking style.  I start on the left.  I take four steps forward then three to the right stepping in front of the human who has to side step me as I quickly take five to the left pulling the leash taut and throwing my connected human off balance.     Then, while he is off balance, I run forward five steps pulling him forward then stop so he has to sidestep me again, although at this time I would just walk into me but pet parents would rather rip open their achilles tendon then step on their pet.  Then, as he is leaning forward, off balance, I pretend to see something behind me, and run in the other direction.  Basically walking me is like standing on a balance ball. It is excellent to teach a human how to balance.  (This doesn’t work for drunk humans.  If a drunk human walked me they would seem perfectly upright.  I may become the first service dog for drunk drivers.  If they get pulled over I can get them to walk straight.)

Ao I anxiously await the beginning of K9 Kamp so I can get my walking and my sie stepping agility in while training my Daddy to be able to speed up. slow down, spin around, walk backwards, and dance if I choose to.

I have heard, in the past, that Foley and Pocket almost killed Daddy during K-9 Kamp.  Well, I’m just the dog to get it done.

Wordless Wednesday

River Song Goes to Town

I have been told that I suffer from terrible separation anxiety when my Mommy leaves the house.  I say this is not true.  I don’t have separation anxiety.  I have “Oh no Mommy has left me and is never coming back” anxiety.

Mommy has tried everything.  A Thunder Shirt, a pheromone collar, Rescue Remedy, playing classical music, and nothing works.  I am crated when my parents are gone, and when they get home, if I haven’t soiled the crate,  I have moved it four feet across the floor.   

I am better when Daddy stays home with me, but not by much.  Here is a video of me taken by Daddy.  I am on the kitchen table, looking out the window, howling for Mommy to come home.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESFlEFgJ6MM

This week Mommy had to go out in the morning.  Daddy let Mommy have the bathroom to do her morning things and Daddy planned to take a shower after she left.  As soon as she was out the door I was at the kitchen window desperately looking for her and jumping on the table looking down the road for the first sign of her car.

Daddy went to take his shower.  He left both the bedroom and bathroom doors open so, if I was scared and thought I was alone, I could run into the bathroom, put my paws on the tub, stick my head in, and be reassured that he was still with me, which I did, several times.

When Daddy was done showering he took a towel from the rod, wrapped it around his waist then sat on the side of the tub to pat me and calm me down.  I jumped up, put my paws on the side of the tub, stuck my head under his towel and went to town.

About 30 minutes later Daddy gave me a slap in the head and told me to stop licking him there.  (Daddy says the licking occurred for less than five seconds.  I recall it being longer than that.  I guess we are just going to have to agree to disagree.)

Daddy kicked me out of the bathroom, which was quite rude, got dressed, then sat me down on his lap.  I looked up, hoping he didn’t want more.  He told me that this was not something we should share with Mommy and I agreed.

Then Mommy’s came in and I was so happy to see her I peed on the floor then spilled everything about me going down on Daddy’s junk.

Mommy and Daddy had a long talk where she got loud and he got defensive and now I can’t be home alone with Daddy when he takes a shower, and I think I cannot be home alone with Daddy without some court supervision.

Man, humans are sure serious about their junk.  

Uva is Foley Monster's September 29, 2013 Pup of the Week

If you think watching over your loved ones while on Earth is hard wait until you pass to the Eternal side of the Bridge.  You never rest.  The other day Daddy was moving furniture for his 85 year old father who is recovering from a broken hip (he is another big resource drain for us angels.)  Daddy was foolishly trying to bring a big bureau down the stairs by himself.  He started to lose control of it, and both he and the chest would have hurtled down the stairs crushing him underneath it.  All the pups he has ever loved and lost appeared around him and held up that bureau until it was eased to the ground.  (Of course he thinks he did it, typical human.)

That is what us Angels do. Those near death experiences you tell tale about?  Us Angels are what keeps them near and not death.  The very day I went to the Bridge I was called into action.  On the trip back from the hospital after saying goodbye to me my Daddy made a right hand turn he had made 1,000 times  before when  some idiot in a truck passed him on the right as he turned right.  He still doesn’t know how the truck missed him, but I do.  In my first angelic act I grabbed the wheel and turned hard to save both my parents.  The other Angels were quite impressed, it being my first time.

All humans, and all dogs, have Angels, and this week, our Pup of the Week, Uva, a three year old chihuahua, proved that to be true.

First, as always, some backstory.  A few days ago Uva took ill.   She got a nasty case of Colitis.   Like my sister Pocket, Uva is a very nervous little dog.  She came in contact with some fleas, and the constant biting, jumping, and aggravation scared her, and, much like with Pocket when she gets nervous, her insides turn to water.  

Her Mom had to take Uva to the vet.  Because it was nearby Uva and her Mom walked.  When they arrived there were cats in the office who were bigger than Uva and, being a nervous dog, Uva got very agitated.  She slipped out of her collar and then out the door, onto a busy street.

But not only did Uva need aid, so did her Mom, who, like her precious pup, ran into the street without looking, then came to a stop in front of a speeding taxi, who just missed hitting Uva’s Mom.  The other drivers. having their busy schedules detained by seconds, yelled and cursed at our friend’s Mom.

Uva’s Angels were around her, too, as somehow her tiny body was seen by the busy motorists.  Uva stopped in the road and her Mom ran to her, gathered her in her arms, and brought her back to the vet’s. while her angels were greatly relieved that their numbers were not added to by one.  The vet treated her for her Colitis and she should be back to her old self soon.

So please, heed the story of Uva and her Mom, and remember, there is no luck, no good fortune, just your Angels, who you once took such good care of, looking over you and your pack and returning the many favors owed to you.