Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

While Saint Bernard’s got all the credit no one saved more asses than TP Tommy

Monday Question

 How do you do at eating?

Do you eat it all or do you graze?

Are you food aggressive?

Do you eat a diet food?

Do you have any food quirks?

I sometimes am picky and don't eat all my food in the morning but eat it all at night?

I am on a healthy weight food.

I am not food aggressive.

Some days I stop eating breakfast and go to my snuffle mat and start eating the hidden kibble off of it

Foley's Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Trying to Deal With the Grounghog

 

• 

One of the good things about living at Rainbow Bridge is that we can control the weather in our yards. We can change spring to summer, and then winter, just by walking down the street.

But humans have no such luck. They are stuck with whatever weather a menopausal Mother Nature delivers. Lately, she threw the entire country into a cold spell and went to the Bahamas for the week.

We angels serve people and the biggest need across the world is deliverance from tyranny but we can’t do anything about that. Everyone wanted to save Baby Jessica when she fell down the well, but four years later if she jumped again she would be on her own.

But it was possible to do something about the weather, and it would entail visiting my old friend Pawskatony Phil. ‘

It was the morning of his big day and the humans were already gathered on this frigid morning, mostly to see the groundhog, and some on a two-week outdoor drinking jag in between the Eagles’ championship and the Super Bowl.

I found Phil in his hole getting made up for his appearance by a neatly groomed rabbit. Phil was smoking a cigar and had a Manhattan in one hand. ‘’Foley, my favorite angel,’’ Phil said. ‘’What brings you to my hole?’’

I told Phil that the humans were discouraged after a long winter, wildfires, political turmoil, and the inevitable Chiefs Super Bowl; it was like we were living the same day over and over. I wish there was a name for that. 

‘’It would be great if you could predict an early spring.’’

‘’Now, Foley, there are several factors that I use to determine how much longer winter will be, and I can’t let outside force influence my decision. And if I predict six more weeks of winter Club Med hooks me up with a villa in Aruba.’’

Wow, you can’t even trust the Groundhog anymore. 

I tried to convince him that this would be the best for everyone but he said ‘’I could either predict an early spring and freeze my ass off with the rest of the losers out there or let you freeze your tails off while I sip margaritas on the beach.’’ He stood before me ‘’I have been cold and I have been warm, and I pick warm every time.’’

Phil went out to meet his adoring fans and made his predictable prediction. 

It seems like you can’t even trust a fat, over-hyped rat.

And there are so many more of them now. 

The Ruby Rose Report: Playing Possum

I have not heard from Mrs Haversham, the cat who lives under our house, in a couple of weeks. I looked down the floor vent and barked for her, but she didn’t answer

I could still hear her roaming around down there late at night but her scent had changed, it was more musky and thick.

Also, the food my dad put under the house at night was always missing.

Someone had been there and had supper.

But,  did not think it was Mrs. Haversham. The new occupant refused to answer my barks.

Who was sleeping down there?

I needed to know but couldn’t figure out how.

I went on the tablet to get inspiration but the Google search for ‘’what is under my house’’ was fruitless. I began reading my blogs when I was struck with inspiration. The camera my parents used to spy on me could do the same to the creature under the house. I found the camera on a window sill, got it in my paws, and then dropped it down the vent. 

I turned on my iPad and climbed into the recliner to wait. I soon nodded off, then was awoken by the chime signaling that something had been caught on camera. 

I eagerly turned it on to see the kitty and saw this.

• It wasn’t a Cat but a big y

I barked at it to leave the food alone.

‘’Why?’’ it asked. ‘’I am just a big cat.’’

‘’You’re just a big rat,’’ I answered.

‘’I resent that.’’

‘’Well, you’re not a cat.’’

‘’I identify as a cat.’’

‘’Well, I got news for you, that choose your identity stuff went out with the last administration.’’

‘’Well, I was born a possum.’’

‘’Then you are a possum.’’

‘I don’t want to be a possum. There is no upward mobility’’

‘’Well, regardless, we can’t continue to feed you cat food.’ It would be like those freaky people who live with monkeys.’’

The possum tipped over and stopped breathing.`

‘’Don’t even. Playing possum won’t work.’’

The discouraged possum stood. ‘’So, I am going to have to go back to hunting in January. I could starve to death.’’

‘’I’ll have my parents leave out some bird feed.’’

‘’Great, nuts and berries, which is hard to swallow after salmon.’’

I apologize, but we only rent gratis to kitties and they won’t use the space if a possum is there. I told him he could spend one final night there.

Now I lay awake wondering if he is okay and if the kitties will come back.

Running a halfway house for feral animals is more stressful than I thought

Poetry Thursday

This week's inspiration from the Two Spoiled Cats

Three men, two of them tall

Stood outside a horse’s stall

They needed work because they were in economic freefall

And they decided the rodeo was the place to make a windfall

The owner stood against the wall 

As the three men made a pitch the hope they would enthrall

They told the man what would befall

If they were hired to do a trick everyone would recall

‘’The three of us will make a human wall

Tim and I upright on either side and upside down will be Paul

He will open his leg in a wide sprawl

And the charging horse will jump and push off Paul’s ball.’’

‘’Excuse me,’’ Paul said his face appalled

‘’I don’t think it should be me, I was born

with balls that are small

If you don’t believe me here is

my Mom’s number and you can call

Honestly, I don’t want a horse crushing

my ball, not at all’’

But the other two stuck to their guns

despite the way Paul does bawl

Ready to face whatever might befall

The horses came like they were being chased by a fireball

The first three made it but the fourth one on Paul did fall

The two men went to Paul whose pain

could be seen in his eyeballs

Tim asked if he was ok and Paul said

’I had my balls crushed by a leaping stallion,

what do you think you sloth brain neanderthal?’’

Tim said he was sorry that Paul had a pitfall

And said ‘’You need to get up, in ten minutes

we have another curtain call.’’

Since that day the prosperous trio performed

have performed until 1,000 nightfalls

And they watched their money snowball

Aided by an item Paul saw in a store in Senegal

A giant steel cup to protect his balls

Wordless Wednesday