Foley's Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Chimp Crazy (The Chimp's side)

 

There are not too many killers at the Bridge. All those who did so in the line of duty, or the protection of another, are. Those who kill for their purposes are either not allowed, or sentenced to wander on the other side of the river, between two worlds, not belonging to one side or the other.

But sometimes, those who are driven to madness, and take the life of, or injure an innocent are allowed to cross over.

Hopefully, they are forgotten over time, but others have their pasts dredged up, and, even from the Bridge, they want to clear their name.

So they hire an attorney, and often it is me. 

I had to meet with my client at his home which meant I had to go into the jungle, where Travis lived, It was fitting he did. He never got to live there when he was on the mortal side.

Travis was born in captivity and sold to a woman in Stamford Connecticut for six figures. He became a local legend, playing with visitors, and going to other houses and businesses. But, as he aged, he began to rebel, which caused him to be violent, and caged to protect his mom, her guests, and himself. 

For the rest of the story, and why he needed representation I would need to go into the jungle.

I had to meet up with river men and be taken on a perilous journey. I arrived on an island with millions of chimps, monkeys, and other species. I didn’t think I would find Travis until I heard a chimp voice saying my name. 

A meaty hand grabbed me by the collar and pulled me onto a branch.

I admit, it was both the closest I had been to a killer and a chimp.
“I shouldn’t have been kept in a cage,” Travis said. “How can you love something that you lock up all the time? One day they let me out to play with a lady, and when she went to stick me back in the cage I panicked and by the time I knew what was happening the woman had no face or hands, and my police officer friend had a gone on me. I pleaded with him to put me out of my misery and he did. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just got tired of that cage.”

I told him that animal lovers to understand, and don’t blame him, and I would make sure the filmmakers wouldn’t either, And, he was safe at the Bridge because all those in power there know animals never do wrong unless provoked by humans.

And they know nothing that is loved should ever be left in a cage. 

The Ruby Rose Report: My Morning Routine

 

I had a visit from Foley in my dreams, which is never a good thing. Foley doesn't just come by to say hi

"I've read your Ask Miss Ruby blog and your postingd about the gardens, but our audience wants to know about you."

I was afraid of this.

The truth is, I lead a boring, average life. Every morning occurs the following way.

I wake up and eat at 6:45 AM. I try to scurry further down the bed, but my dad, the early riser, blindly reaches in to find me under the covers. Sometimes I sleep on my back, with my head near the foot of the bed, which leads to Daddy accidentally touching my nether regions. It does wake me up. He, being an overly polite man, apologizes. It's like getting wake-up service at Trump Tower.

I reluctantly climb out of bed, and then lay down on the rug by the door. I have never done my business outside, preferring to do it on the pads in the laundry room. I do feel for my fellow dogs who are flushed outside in the cold and wet to perform like circus freaks in a bus station bathroom. Because of this, I am in no hurry to relieve myself

Daddy goes in the bedroom, he says, to do his exercises, but when I look under the door he’s lying on the floor doing eyelids raising and lowering exercises. Then he showers while Mommy cleans the kitchen and I sit on my perch on the back of the couch.

When he comes out it is breakfast time. My parents eat while I sit on the floor waiting for my treats. I don’t want what they eat, I want my bacon treats, and they must be cut into small squares. If they aren’t I refuse to eat them. And get this: They stop eating and cut my treats to the proper size. That is how much control I have over these people. I promise I will never use the power for evil.

After they are done it is time for me to eat: I have kibble, with a small amount of water, lightly heated, with refrigerated human-like wet food. It is served, and I have my collar removed because if the tags hit my bowl I get distracted and stop eating.

Then, and only then, do I relieve myself.

And that is my typical morning.

Foley tells me I am spoiled, but I don’t see it.

Poetry Thursday

 

It is time for another Poetry Thursday hosted by TWO SPOILED CATS.  Here is the photo they provided for inspiration. 

Chad’s mom had warned him that the sweepers were working and not to park on the street

On every Tuesday the city did repeat

Chad felt he was being browbeat

He wasn’t stupid, he was a varsity athlete

The next Tuesday morn he did oversleep

And did not hear when the large vehicle came to sweep

After noon he work up with a leap

And saw they had towed every car, truck and jeep

Chad needed to get his car back before he had to face his mom’s fury

She would convict his as both Judge and Jury

He called his friend Ryan and said “Can you help me?

If not the worst thing will happen: I will have to give my mom an apology.

Ryan drove Chad to the junk yard

Upon arrival Chad jumped out and inquired to a man who looked hard

To pay any fine Chad had the number of his mother’s credit card

But the man said something that left him jarred

Chad saw his car had been crushed and stacked.

And he thought: “That’s wack.”

Chad insisted he be given his car back

Then dragged the cat back to his cul-de-sac

It had no windows

There was no keeping out the snow

Nor tires, doors, no way for the car to go

He hoped his mom wouldn’t notice in her quest for an evening merlot.

His mother got home, stormed up the stairs and said “what happened to the car?”

He looked out the window and said “that’s bizarre.

Say mom tonight can I use your car, I won’t go far

Just back and forth to the bar.”

i

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat this Caption

 

I don't care. I can do this all day. Now, which one of you hid Mr Penguin?

Monday Question

 What do your parents think you do better than any of thier other pets?

My parents say I walk on a lead better than any other dog they have had

Foley's Tails From Rainboiw Bridge: Too Big to Fly

 

"All animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others. I have to admit, that dogs have benefited from this inequity. Part of it is being adorable, and part is having the best publicists in the animal world: Our humans. But some animals even have better publicists than over-the-moon-in-love pet parents. When the United States was becoming a country, the founding fathers needed a spirit animal. It seemed like a lot of work, so many of us declined, but the bald eagle saw a way to elevate itself from being just another bird. The eagle’s presentation worked, and it was chosen as the symbol for what seemed to be a dead-end, short-lived country. 

Somehow, mostly because for two centuries Americans did nothing but roll sevens, it became the greatest country in the world, and the eagle was protected more than Taylor Swift at an Ecuadorian cookout. When a wild eagle was found unable to fly at the Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield, it sent the Missouri Department of Conservation workers into a panic. They could not be responsible for losing the symbol of a strong and thriving nation. They ran tests, they talked to doctors, and they prayed. 

The big guy assigned the prayer to me. At first, I declined. My family and friends keep me very busy. But the big guy said he needed his best angel to fix this. I don’t know how he got to be the big guy, but knowing when to dole out a compliment to get someone to do his business must be one of them.

 I flew down to meet the eagle. He seemed like a nice bird, not angry and self-important like many eagles I have met. I brought Mordecai, an owl angel who has learned medicine since coming to the bridge. He looked the eagle over and reached a conclusion: 'The bird is too fat,' Mordecai said. 'He has eaten too much. He’s rolly-polly. He’s got too much junk in the trunk. If this was Thanksgiving, he could feed a family of six and have enough left over for sandwiches.'”

The eagle admitted he had had a tough time pushing himself away from the squirrel bar. He promised to do better. But, for now, he needed help, knowing he had a bunch of tests in front of him, and scared of what upcoming tests would do. He asked if there was anything he could do. 

'You can fart, yes?' Mordecai asked. The eagle said yes. 'Then you must fart to fly!' The eagle was embarrassed. 'It’s that or get plucked to lose weight.' The eagle began to fart, and with each one, he got a little more off the ground, when finally he let out noxious gas and lifted off like a Thrust SCC. He was cured. 

Mordecai shook his head. 'If they wanted a symbol that can get off the ground no matter how fat, they should have got a turkey. They can fly with a full load in their feathers.'

` I could not disagree.