Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

"“Henry, Trump won, so stop yelling about how Kamala freed the chihuahuas from the shelter, moved them in next door, and that they are eating the squirrels."

Beat This Caption

 What is your favorite sleeping position?

Foley's Tails From Rainbow Bridge: A Tail's Tale

 

Because I am a distinguished and well-known angel blogger I was selected to attend a meeting of Yorkie champions.

I went to the groomers to make sure I looked and smelled my best. I was picked up in a pumpkin carriage and brought to the celebration.

I walked up the front steps and came to the Great Danes who were working security. I handed them my invitation. The Dane looked down on me, then said he needed to speak with someone. 

This was embarrassing.

Then he returned and said I was denied entry.

Outraged, I asked why.

“It’s your tail,” he said.

“What about my tail?”

“It is long, curvy, and hairy at the tip. A Yorkie has a docked tail. You do not meet the breed standard.”

I began to respond then stopped. The Dane was a fine dog but knew nothing about Yorkies. I asked to see the dog who made the decision.

A perfect Yorkie, with long hair, bright eyes, a strut, and a docked tail came out. On her collar was the name Princess. She looked at the invitation, then at me, and said there must be some sort of mistake.

You tell it, sister.

“This dog never should have got the invitation, she has the wrong tail.”

I was incensed. I had a perfect tail. It was one of my finest features. Also, it was natural. The docked dogs have to be surgically changed. How could I not be the breed standard if I had an original part? Anyway, it wasn’t my fault I never got my tail circumcised.

Princess checked on her I Paw and then said the cruelest thing. “I see the problem, there has been a mistake, this invitation should have gone to Pocket.”

Pocket? She was the breed standard? She has no strut, no style. But she did have a docked tail. I was disgusted.

I took the pumpkin of shame back home, went inside our warm, well-lit home, and found Pocket curled up on the couch. “This invitation was for you,” I said tossing the invitation at her. 

“I thought it was for you,” Pocket said.

“Me too, but I guess I am not the breed standard.”

“Well, if they won’t take you then I won’t go either.” Pocket made my little heart swell. “I know you wouldn’t go if I wasn’t allowed.”

Of course, she knew that was my exact plan. I kissed her on the head and told her she was no.

I needed to stop worrying about breed standards and being considered a champion. 

I was me, with my beautiful tail.

I planned to start my group, an exclusive club of full-tailed Yorkies. Then I abandoned the idea: Because Pocket would not be allowed.

And I learned that the true beauty of a dog is in their hearts, not their skin.

But still, it was a shame no one would be able to check my talk,  

The Ruby Rose Report: A Cane

 

When you see a soul everyday, and they slowly change, you don’t notice. Then one day, something happens and you notice.

Those are never good days.

My Mommy, when Foley was barely beyond a puppy, had knee replacement surgery, a week before the Patriots won their first Super Bowl. Her knee spans Tom Brady’s career, but it was not as celebrated.

The next year, at the same time of year, she had a second knee replacement. The Patriots didn’t win the Super Bowl. Mommy took that as a sign to never have another surgery.

The knee replacements were supposed to last 15 years, Mommy’s knees are pushing ten years past their expiration date and it's starting to show.

When Mommy landed on her right foot she did so with the delicacy of the T-Rex in the first Jurassic Park. Then she would lurch the rest of her body forward like someone trying to haul a giant octopus onto a sailboat.

My Dad encouraged Mommy to see a doctor, but she didn’t see the point, Tom Brady had retirted.

Having had a string of illnesses and operations in her younger years, Mommy vowed not to give into her maladies.

Each step sent a bolt of lightning up and down her leg and burrowed into her hip. But she toughed it out, like Tom Brady, staying on the field until the last down.

“Tom Brady has retired,” the box called Alexa said.

A year later Mommy retired from being a martyr. She did not see a doctor, and would not get an operation, but she agreed to get a cane,

She ordered it from Amazon.. I reminded her that, after Jeff Bezos would not allow the Washington Post to endorse Harris, she said she would never order from Amazon again.

“Fluff that I am in pain.”.

It was almost ten days of civil disobedient activity.

Not a bad record for this vicinity.

I don’t like the cane, it's like an unpredictable third leg. And it doesn’t sense when it hits me.

Also, I don’t like what it represents.  It means my parents are getting older.

Children were not meant to outlive their parents, and parents aren’t meant to outlive their dogs.

I shared my concerns with Foley who told me not to worry, a knee is not a vital organ, and walking on two legs is overrated. I said I didn’t want her to go first.

It would be nice to go together.

“And so you shall,” Foley said “when Mommy forgets to unplug her curliign iron and goes to sleep.”

Sometimes Foley isn’t a comfort.

I guess Mommy and I will gracefully age together and we are both old and gray and when one slips away the other will follow them into the dark.

As for Dad I am sure taking care of the two of us will send him to the Bridge to set up shop before us. 

Poetry Thursday

 

Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday.

My mom made many mistakes but not being a mother and wife

She wasn’t fancy, not a speck of posh

But the biggest mistake in her life

Was the time she took us to the monkey car wash

Dad was a strict man and could be mean

And he was very particular about his car

He called it the mean machine

And treated it like it was a Renoir.

He insisted mom when driving his car avoid all puddles

But in the car we kids were causing trouble

Which made our mom’s brain a muddle

And she hit a muddy pothole filled with rubble.

She immediately got out of the car and saw the mud

And she knew if it wasn’t clean of it she would never hear the end

She knew she had to clean off the crud

When she saw a car wash sign just around the bend.

It said it was a fundraiser for the zoo

Andshe pulled into the empty lot and handed a man the money

Then Mommy yelled when she saw the crew.

A dozen hose and sponge carrying monkeys

They climbed on the roof with their dirty feet

They spit on the windows then didn’t rub it clean

Their dirty fists left dirt when with their fists the did beat

And she quickly left the lot as the head monkey did scream.

Luckily she found a human car was and they gave the car a wash and wax

She got home, and let us all on with the house key

And when her husband got home and didn’t say anything she could relax

But that was ruined when he looked at us sitting at the table and said “which kid did you trade for the monkey?”

Wordless Wednesday