On the Tenth Anniversary of the Tanner Brigade Foley Looks Back to the Beginning

I got up early on a Saturday morning in late May of 2009.  It was odd that I had the energy to wake up early since the night before had taken part in what was called the raid on the castle.

A few weeks prior I was banned from the site called Doggyspace. Before this happened I was ready to stay there site forever  It was perfect for me. I had a thousand friends. It really was like a big playground. The friendships I had made there meant everything to me. I would fight to the death for my comrades.

One of those friends, Tanner, was growing tired of the increasingly authoritarian rule and unruly members.  Our dear friend Hattie had left the site, weary from being bullied by younger, unsupervised pups. Tanner was upset that his group Yellow Labs had been assimilated into another and all the threads and comments wiped out. He complained to the management, who was disguised as a Yorkie named Princess.  Her profile picture had been taken from a stock photo site. Her biography fabricated.

Tanner was told it was necessary to eliminate his group.  No amount of pleading could change the phony Princess' mind.  
A short time later Tanner was diagnosed with cancer.  After the discovery, he was accused of using a dog's parents name in a comment.  At the time of the infraction, it seemed minor but Tanner received a lifetime ban.

Since I never complained or had a complaint issued against me I assumed I was a Doggyspace member in good standing.  I sent a message to the fake Princess explaining that Tanner was going to pass over soon. He knew he had made a mistake but only did so because he was distraught. Certainly, the Princess could understand that Tanner needed all the support of his online friends in his last days   If it was not possible that the ban could be overturned maybe it could be delayed until Tanner had passed

I fully expected that Princess would understand and reinstate Tanner's profile because true dogs and their parents have great compassion for pups whose songs is ending. That is what a pet lover would do.  Instead, the Princess replied with a statement that shocked, dismayed and amused.

"As you know the rules are laid out clear, and we can not allow this bickering to continue, nor slander. It may be unforchunit for her personaly, however she knew she should not have done that before she even posted it, and we can not make exceptions in this case due to the size of the event.Dont expect it to be the last eather, the entire admin/support team are hunting down anyone that was part of the event on bothsides as its a clear break of the community rules. Its sad to see so many adults act like children."

After reading the response I decided to share it with other members via private message.  There were no rules about what could be shared by that method on Doggyspace. We weren't even aware that Big Princess was reading them. We found out when I received a 10-day ban for forwarding the Princess' message to others.

This called for a stupid and futile gesture.  I was just the dog to do it. I started the Small Tail blog and published the Princess’ letter. I also exposed the Princess' profile as being a fake.  Even though I didn't write a word of this on Doggyspace the thin-skinned, upper-class twit Princess barred me for life. I cannot say I was surprised.
I hoped to keep in touch with my friends via my blog.  Then Teddy Bond told me about an unused Ning site. It was like a fully furnished house left vacant.  I moved in invited some of my closest friends and we began to party. We even got the elusive Hattie Mae to join.

Then came the fateful Friday night.  Earlier in the day, we learned that Tanner would be going to the Bridge within hours.  In tribute, we went on Doggyspace, created fake profiles and posted pictures of Tanner on the site where he had been barred. Since the owner fashioned himself a Princess we referred to it as the raid on the castle.

We were all very proud of ourselves.  Then the very same cross little dog who got Tanner banned from Doggyspace joined our new site.  He lacked the basic kindness gifted to pets and their parents. In an unconscionable act, he criticized Tanner and his mom on the night of his passing. This was the kind of toxic personality we had all left DS to avoid. Our happy home was no longer safe
So there I was on a Saturday morning in May watching another group of friends being ripped apart.  Some dog had to do something. I decided that some dog would be me.

I opened Ning and created a new site.  I called it a Brigade because the night before we were an army invading a castle.  And I named it after the Bridge's newest angel Tanner. Most importantly I made it a site you could only go one if you got an invite.

I had wisely, in anticipation of being banned from Doggyspace, copied the emails of my closest friends.  I sent them an invitation to the newly formed Tanner Brigade.

I sent out a couple of dozen invitations.  Slowly my friends joined the new site. Baarney, and Tabaatha, known as the Laambis were the first to join.  Ashton and Chelsea were next. By the end of the day, dozens of dogs had joined including Hobo, Freddy, and Pepsi, Lilly, Sophie, Paco, Luca and Junior.

Over the coming days and weeks, more friends would join including the effervesant Hattie Mae.  A social network site for dogs and their parents, run by them, had never been attempted before.  Some scoffed at our motto: “Freedom to Bark!” borrowed from Donna Christopher, one of the earlier adminsators.  But we proved them wrong, and ten years later we are still going strong.
The Tanner Brigade constantly changes.  Many of the dogs who were big contributors in our first few years, Hattie, Koda, Cassie, Zoe Boe, and Brody, are gone.  Others, like Hobo, Lily, Cappy, and Paco have been with us for the entire ten years. We have added new members who have kept us going strong into our tenth year:  Geordie, Sabrina, Abby, Rosco, Wild Ones, Tashi and, after Doggyspace folded in 2015, the great Tommy Tunes and Freddy brought their magical profiles to our group.

Ironically, after Doggyspace was sold, we were invited back, and started the site where we made several new friends, who have followed us to Tanner Brigade.
The Tanner Brigade is a mom and pop shop struggling to keep members in the same community where Facebook seems to draw everyone away from smaller sites.  While we have a Facebook account and have been a member of Blogville for ten years, this is our home.

I want to thank all the friends we have made for a great ten years.  As we step into our second decade we cannot say if we will reach twenty years, but freedom to bark will last forevr.

Pocket is Worried About Being Treated Like a Human

I was sitting next to Momma on the big recliner. I had achieved the perfect fugue state, neither awake or asleep.  I was in that comfortable spot in the middle, experiencing a peaceful easy feeling.

I lifted my head, yawned, then rested on mommy's leg. I glanced at her IPad. She was reading the most distressing article. It said humans are treating pets like they are human. What a revolting development.  

This news completely knocked me out of my comfort zone.  

I would not have been as worried if the story said we would be treated like babies.  Those helpless little creatures have their parents wrapped around their tiny fingers. No, what I had read meant human adults.  The bottom of the food chain.

For years I have enjoyed being treated much better than the way humans treat one another.   This would be a significant change in my lifestyle

If my parents started treating me like a human, what would happen the next time I pooped?  Humans don't clean up one another's excrement. You're expected to do it yourself. I don't even know where the poop bags are kept, never mind how to open them and put poop in. We're going to be reduced to the old lookout gullet here it comes technique

And what if we are expected to feed ourselves? I know in human households if a person makes dinner, she will make enough for everyone.  But if you don't want what's served, you have to figure out a way to feed yourself.

The container with the kibble is in the kitchen closet.  My pumpkin, wet food, and both are in the refrigerator.  They are on a high shelf. There is no way I can reach them.  The best I could do is pull out the kibble container, knock it over, and eat the kibble off the floor.  I'm sure if I was being treated like a human, my mom will want me to clean the mess up. I hope I'm hungry enough to do so.

Humans want other humans to get their room with their own bed.  I don't want my own room. I don't want my bed. They're probably going to want me to sit in my chair.  When will the insanity end?

And we are one of the few species allowed to end our lives with dignity. When it comes to end-of-life, we dogs are treated humanely.  Humans are treated inhumanely. I would rather be an old dog treated humanely then old human treated inhumanely.

When I got done, reading it seemed that somehow the writer thought being treated like a human being was better than being treated like a dog.  This is what Foley would call fake views.

I hope my species doesn't regress to being treated like humans.  I certainly do enjoy a dog's life.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Cleanliness may be next to Godliness but dirty is more fun

Monday Question

Do you like to tip up tissue paper?

Pocket:  I ignore tissue paper.

River Song  I chew it up and leave it all around the house whenever I get the chance.

Barry is the May 28 2019 Pup of the Week

In my ten years of writing tributes to dogs who have passed to the Bridge three has become my least favorite number.  When I first started, I hated the number two. It was sad enough when one dog from a pack passed to the Bridge. A second was tragic.  The longer I have been on the immortal side; the more dogs have arrived. And some of these dogs have driven up the number of pets lost from a single pack to three.  That is why I hate that number.

We have had Tanner, Coco Puff and Ruger Ru arrive from the same pack.  Also, Hattie Mae, Fella, and Smartie. All of these pups became famous on Doggyspace and then followed us when we started the Tanner Brigade.   This week another TB family had sent a third pup to the Bridge when Mama Elisa lost Barry. He joined Benjamin the Sheriff of Fun and their brother Butkus the Grumpy.

When they were together on the mortal side, Benjamin, Butkus, and Barry could not have been more different.  Benjamin loved to have fun all the time. Butkus took his position as a dog seriously, the opposite of Benjamin's silly nature.  Barry was more stoic, content to watch the insanity unfolding in front of him than participate. They were like the Beatles. Benjamin was fun-loving Paul.  Butkus was sardonic John. And, Barry the stoic George. They also had their funny Ringo in Achilles who successfully fought off a calling to the Bridge after breaking his front legs and enduring several surgeries

Barry enjoyed a low-key existence. His favorite spot was near the pool. He would let his fur grow warm in the Texas sun. When it became too hot he took a dip    If any conflagration broke out, as it always does in multiple dog homes, Barry was content to let it play out in front of him. There was no need to get upset at such silly things

Benjamin and Butkus were waiting with me as Barry crossed the Bridge.  Benjamin was flying excitedly above us. "Will you settle down!" Butkus snapped.  "If Barry finds you acting like a fool, he will turn around and go back."

"Fine with me," Benjamin said buzzing Butkus who growled.

Barry reached Hobo's Landing where I swore him in  There's a lot to do on your first day on the immortal side.  You have to get fitted for detachable wings. You have a feast thrown in your honor.  You get flying lessons. And you will learn how to visit your parents' dreams and warg into flying creatures to visit your mom when the weather is beautiful. But, Barry postponed these activities He was on a mission.

Once Barry was sworn in his brother's began to argue over who would be the first to greet him. "Enough," Barry shouted.   "When Mama knew I was sick, she gave me a last request. She asked that when I go to the Bridge, I tell you that she said to stop fighting.  She knows you visit her dreams every night. And she loves that you do. But you leave her with a terrible headache the next morning.

Both boys seemed stunned by the news. "Doesn't she want us to visit?" Benjamin asked, shaking.

"Of course she does!" Barry said.  But without the fighting, which is why she appointed me to dream date referee. One misstep, and you're out of her dreams."

The brothers had never seen Barry so assertive, but an angel gets like that when he has got a direct order from his mom. Both Butkus and Barry promised to try and be patient with one another. As patient as Barry is with them.

And from that day forward peace was brought to the Lukanjo pack and the legend spread of Barry, the Patient.

Dream Our World: A Story of Fine Art and Sibling Love

Words are the tools of my trade. I'd be lost without them.  I remember how frustrated I would get when no one understood my barks.  That is why I learned words.

I had long thought that being without words was a disadvantage.  I had forgotten the entertainers, Harpo, Chaplin, Jaws, and Pluto who thrived without words.

But that was film. My venues were blogs and books.  You cannot succeed in those fields without words.

This past week my friends Toby,  Geordie and their mom J. Lawson proved me wrong.

I already owned one of their books, “Poopiter.”  It is a fanciful collection of humorous cartoons, sketches, and drawings. The humor was both in the pictures and in words captured by air bubbles that floated above the character’s heads.

I was eager to get their latest book “Dream Our World” (available on Amazon by clicking here.)  I anticipated more funny lines and pithy quips.

I opened the book and quickly flipped through the pages.  I admired the sturdy paper. Much more durable than the cheap stock I use.  Lucious artwork exploded from every page. But then I noticed that the words were missing. 

I flipped through the book again, figuring somewhere the words must be contained in a packet that needed to be added after purchase.  I held it upside down and shook, but no words fell out.
How can there be a book without words?  I decided to start from the beginning and find out.

The story begins with Geordie in his red collar and Toby in his green shirt entering the Museum of Imagination.  They look at and humorously react to the classic paintings on the walls. On closer inspection, there's something different about these masterpieces.

 Two dogs who look suspiciously like our protagonists scurry on the table at the Last Supper. A dog reaches out with a paw to God at the birth of creation.  Mona Lisa can't help but smile when she gets licks from a puppy. In American Gothic, the farmer and his wife look like Geordie and Toby's grandparents.

But this book is more than a story of two dogs reacting to fine art.  During the course of the book, the essence of their relationship is explored.  Geordie is every parent who's ever taken a child to a museum. At times exasperated, at time mused, at others patient and understanding.  Geordie patiently waits while Toby enjoys his lunch complete with the sippy straw. Geordie remains outside the restroom for his little brother.  At the end of the day when Toby's too tired to carry on, Geordie picks him up and sleeps on your shoulder.

Every writer needs a vehicle to tell their story, and the museum is the vehicle to tell the story of the love between two brothers.

It reminded me of my relationship with Pocket when I was a mortal dog. I think it'll make any sibling recall what it was like growing up with someone older and younger in the family.

And most of all they did it without words.  I didn't think it was possible.

A tip of the tail to my two wordless friends and their mom who can convey so much without dropping so much as a vowel.


Pick up a copy. It is guaranteed to make your day.