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Showing posts from May, 2009

Of Pitbulls and Men

By Foley: What is a pitbull? My niece Mia is an American Bulldog. She looks like this: I was supposed to spend the weekend with her while Mommy and Daddy went to Wolfeboro but they got their reservation changed to a weekend in July (thank you Bear Stearns and AIG). So I won’t be staying with Mia and my brother and his wife until then. I am looking forward to it, Pocket and I love all three of them, but when people see her picture they say “ohhh, she’s a pit bull,” like they say “ohhh, the Limbaughs just moved next door.” They look at me and said: “That pit bull will just gobble Foley right up.” (Please excuse fowl language.) I don’t want to be gobbled right up, and I say that Mia is not a pit bull, she’s a bulldog and she’s a good friend of mine, I never understood a single word she said but I don’t worry about her biting my behind, and I do have a mighty fine behind. But any large, stocky terrier or bulldog is immediately identified as a pit bull, which I think is un

The frank, the beans, Tom and Jerry and the whole nine yards

By Pocket Just before bed Daddy takes us out for a trip around the grassy area in the center of our development. When we get to the top of the driveway, by the woods and the meadow, we see the kitty brothers, Casper and Oreo, one white, one black, who lie by the weeds staring into the darkness. “What are they staring at?” I ask Foley. “They’re hunting,” she said. Holy crap!” I said, and then I crapped, and Daddy told me I was a good girl, and I didn’t want to tell him it was a fear crap not a good girl crap. “We have to get inside, I don’t want to be hunted.’ “They’re not hunting us, they’re hunting mice and critters and things,” she said. “Like the way we chase squirrels?” I asked. “Yes, except they catch them, kill them, and leave them on their Daddy’s porch.” “Well what the hell do they do that for?” I asked, leaking some pee, and being told I was a good girl by Daddy, who was really starting to annoy me. “They just do,” she said. I looked at them, smugly sitting there, s

The Tanner Brigade's own Jon and Kate plus 8

By Foley: Last night Mommy and I were watching a wonderful program about a woman who had a litter of two children, then another of six, called John and Kate plus Eight, when I found out that Jon, the calm and docile male, may have been sniffing a tail that didn’t belong to pack leader Kate. Let me tell you boys something, you might think it’s OK to give a whiff to every Lollipop that goes floating by, but when you got a bitch like Kate waiting at home, with her angry coslopus from which she pushed eight of your children you better hope she’s lethargic from milking because your butts going to have more teeth marks in it than Matilda’s rawhide couch. Now Daddy, he’s a silly man, and he said “well the way she bosses him around you can’t blame him.” Mommy and I, we don’t have to speak, we just look at him, and he sighs, walks outside, lies in the hammock, wishes he had sprung for the one with the canvas top because it’s raining, and hopes Mommy allows him back in before dawn. Watching thi

Pocket is the most powerful dog in the world

By Pocket I crawled out from under the bed this morning and went downstairs where Foley was sitting on Mommy’s lap. I jumped up and Foley met me with her morning “If you even think about me moving I’m gonna nip your backside,” look. I climbed on the arm of the chair and looked at Mommy. “Is it over?” I asked. “Is what over little one?” she asked. “The war, the fighting, is it over?” Yes sweetie,” she said kissing me on the head, “I think the great doggy cyber space war is over.” “Thank God,” I said. “Are we still at Doggyweb?” “Well yes, but there is no administer for Doggyweb so being on it is sort of like being on a runaway bus.” “Oh that sounds scary!” I said. “You think that’s scary,” Mommy said, “look who’s driving the new bus!” I asked her what she meant and she said that Foley had started her own private site for peaceful fun loving doggies and named it after our favorite Bub, Tanner. “And you are in charge of it?” I asked Foley. She stopped licking her pinky toes

The tale of the Tanner Brigade's daring raid on Princess castle

Gather around my children, I am going to tell you the story. I know you all want to hear it again. Yes the one about your Great, Great, Grandmother Foley and the daring raid the Tanner Brigade made on the Castle in Cyberland the night that Tanner went to Rainbow Bridge. No, she’s not really your grandmother. Because she was neutered that’s why. Trust me, you don’t want to know what that is, but you will soon enough. You see the Tanner Brigade were a bunch of rebels, most tossed out of the Kingdom, others working as double agents. The Kingdom’s rulers were evil. They banished Tanner to die alone in the woods. But he brought us all together, even though he was weak and tired. All the members of the Tanner Brigade met in the woods just outside the Castle as Tanner was traveling to the bridge. We can still only use their code names, because the evil Princess sees all, like the eye of Sauron, but with a stigmatism: They were The General, Willie, Bubsy, Sage, Harley, Rocky. Re

I'm Walking With Tanner (with my paws ten feet from the bridge)

Hey there Tanner! Nice to see you. Can you stand up? Good dog. Where are we? That doesn’t matter, all that matters is where we are going. How do you feel? Good? I thought so. Wow, look at you run. Bet you haven’t run like that for years. Wooooaa! Watch the biting! You want to play chase? OK let’s go. Oh, hold on, I’m out of breath. Whew. I know you can keep going. Yeah, I know, it feels like you’re a pup again. What’s wrong? Yeah. I know, you’re a smart dog. Yeah, it happened. Yeah, we’re going to the bridge. Oh don’t cry Tanner. I know how much you’re going to miss your Mom. You want to sit for awhile? Sure. We have time. Let’s lay down in the shade over there. Isn’t this a beautiful tree? Don’t worry, just lay down with me. Nothing can hurt you here, it’s just a path that dogs travel heading to the bridge. You thinking about your Mom? Yeah, I’m sure she’s thinking about you. I wish she could go with you too. But it’s not her time yet. She wi

An e-mail from my rescued sister Jordan

Do any of you have the 365 Puppy-a-day wall calendar? If you do, take a look at this past week, see that adorable Yorkie in the bed, yes, that’s right. It’s your Foley Monster. But who is that handsome stranger next to her? Well that is one of my most favorite sisters: Jordan. We adopted Jordan in late 2006 from the Shih Tzu and Furbabies Rescue group. My sister Copper had just died in her sleep and my parents didn’t want another puppy. They found Jordan who was 10, and had spent most of her life living in a crate on a farm in Oklahoma and used for breeding. She had been fostered by two wonderful women, who had to teach her how to be a pet and not a farm animal. While in her cage she had her teeth become impacted causing her severe pain, and had lost her vision. It took a long time before she could go to a simple pet owner’s home, and we were lucky enough to get her. I didn’t know what to make of her at first. She hated being on the floor, always running to a corner tr

Pocket's big trial

By Pocket: Yesterday Mommy got a bit of upsetting news. She is going to need her knee replaced again, after only seven years. She was crying, and I hate to see her cry. I got so angry I was forced to use bad language so if there are puppies reading cover their eyes: Ready? That doctor was a quack. Mommy and Daddy were talking about getting a lawyer and I said “Mommy why do you need to get a lawyer when you have Foley and Pocket P.C. (Paws Council)?” She told me she needed to get a real lawyer. I protested but then she threw the ball and I ran after it. I lose lots of arguments that way. I still think we should be her lawyers, and since Foley lost the very winnable case against Princess on Judge Judy, I should be the lead attorney. I know that I don’t have Foley’s experience so I need to prove myself. I created a trial to show her what a good lawyer I would be. Unfortunately I don’t know many humans so I have to use the ones on the TV shows Mommy watches as the witnesses, law

An open letter to Princess

Hi Princess. How are you? That’s good. Well, it’s been almost a month since we parted. It did end rather poorly, didn’t it? I guess there’s plenty of blame to go around. I have a new park now. No, it’s not as fancy as yours, no birthday reminders, or gifts, or groups. It’s a little clunky to get around. But we all like it very much. Mostly because we can bark what we want. We’re a rebellious group, we do like to bark our own opinions. I don’t know how much you’d like it. There aren’t a lot of rules. I know you like rules. Structure can be a good thing for many dogs. In your park, you got to make the rules and enforce them against whomever you wanted. I guess that made you the bully. And you were quite a good bully my friend. You bullied people to delete their profile, when they wouldn’t do that you just deleted them yourself. You turned good dog against good dog. Hey, you even had people so scared they deleted their profile on other sites. I mean really, a tip of th

Pocket and the sinister Chihuahua

By Pocket I’ve been doing my best, trying to do my business outside, being the best dog a Pocket can be. Today I went outside, got in position, when suddenly a Chihuahua came running right up to my nose and went “Rouff!” I was so startled my water backed into my bladder. I have a hard enough time peeing where I should, never mind with someone barking right into my nose. How rude. I looked at this little black thing, with some expensive bling around his neck, and I said: “Brooksie?” and it said “Brooksie? What’s a Brooksie? I fart in your general direction.” Well, I come from a long line of Yorkshire Terriers, English royalty, and if there is one thing a proper English lady will not tolerate it’s a Spaniard farting in their general direction, especially after interrupting a proper pee, which is almost as insulting as farting during tea. I then stoked up my considerable courage and ran away. When I reached the end of the flexi leash I jerked back and crashed to the ground

A special Saturday with my big little niece Mia

By Foley: Oh my gosh, yesterday was such a day. I was ready for the usual Saturday of getting a bath, slipping under my blanket while Mommy and Daddy went out, then getting as much lap time as I could. Well, after my bath, I started getting the snorts, and had them for like 20 minutes. I knew I upset Mommy and Daddy but the spray Mommy put on me so I’m soft and smell good got all in my nose. I did get a lot of good petting and loving though. But after that I just wasn’t hungry. Mommy and Daddy hate when I don’t eat. I turned down my kibble and turkey so Mommy replaced it with fresh chicken but I just nosed it around the plate. Then Daddy got down on his hands and knees and tried to feed me by hand. I took it in my mouth, chewed it then spit it out. I was wondering if I could make them do handstands and sing Gregorian Chants in their efforts to feed me but they finally caved and I stood triumphant: Malnourished but triumphant. Then guess what? Instead of leaving, they got the

Community Guideline

Foley: Now that Pocket and I have our own site where any dog can leave comments we think that it is vitally important that we set Community Guidelines for all dogs posting on this site. These Guidelines are here to make your posting experience a rewarding and fulfilling one. Pocket: There is no need for Community Guidelines. Someone is on an Alpha Dog power trip again. Just everybody keep doing what they are doing. We love all your comments and don’t want you to stop. Foley: Number One – No nudity or sexual conduct. Hey you there! That lollipop in the back who’s nursing, stop it right now. That is smutty. And for god sakes put a shirt on. I see so many nipples it’s like Janet Jackson’s family reunion. And those of you who haven’t been neutered cover up those red rockets right now! Pocket: Don’t stop nursing. It is a wonderful thing you are doing. You aren’t harming anyone at all. And boys: We don’t want to scare off children, so discretely brush your fur to cove

Mickey Red Fish swims to Rainbow Bridge

Our fish died this morning. His name was Mickey Red Fish. We called him that because he was red. I used to go over and watch him swimming back and forth…..oh who am I kidding it was a fish! It was in a vase with a plant on top of it. The poor thing got zero lap time. It wouldn’t come out and play, it never stopped taking a bath, the thing shouldn’t even of been called a pet. It was a screen saver with a heart. You’ve got to know when you’re a pet and you hear Mommy’s making supper and she says she’s frying up some of your cousin Felix’s family that you’re not the most beloved member of the clan. I really didn’t have much interaction with Mickey. Occasionally, in the morning, if I am enough of a bother, I can get Daddy to put me up on the table so I can get a good scratch and be Pocket free, and I’d look over at Mickey, and he’s say to me, “I’ll give you $50.00 if you break the vase and I’ll try to slide my way to the door.” I did not take him up on the offer. I seriously do

My life - Pre and post The Incident

By Pocket: Before the incident I would arise each morning, go outside to do my business, do a tad more inside behind a recliner or on the linoleum where it would await a thinly socked foot, and sit down over a bowl of kibble to check out the latest issue of the Puppy Weekly Digest. I‘d then go on the computer to share morning thoughts with the lovely Zoe Boe. I’d check with Wishbone to see how the chick-chick business was doing. I’d learn about how to bling out my page from Erin. I’d learn how to act like a big dog from Moses, Barge and Daisy; and play like a newborn from Matilda. I’d check on my sick friends Tanner and Casper and say a little prayer for them. I’d get my words of wisdom from Teddie Earnest. I’d learn about foreign lands from Luca and Junior. I’d laugh with Blazer, Mollie and Bentley. I’d say my prayers with Shadow. Then I’d find a warm place and lie in the sun. Then came the incident: The DS war, and Foley and I were on the front lines, fighting for what we

Fowl stories with fowl language

The other morning Daddy and Mommy were looking out the window to our back yard. “ I wonder what has the slope noses attention,” I thought as I walked over to look out the sliding back doors. Then I saw it, standing under the bird feeders my neighbor had spent so much time critter-proofing, eating the bird feed cleaned out by the squirrels, a great, big, fat, wild turkey. “Quick,” I said to Pocket, “run upstairs and get my shotgun!” “You don’t have a shotgun,” Pocket said, “Mommy wouldn’t let you have one.” Oh to be a right wing conservative Yorkie in a left wing liberal household. “Then let’s dart outside and attack it. I’ll take the soft tender meaty underbelly while you go for the sharp, vice like beak. “Oh I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Pocket says. Danm her intermittent bursts of common sense. Then we settled down to watch it gobble it’s way through lunch, until it waddled back into the woods. We decided to name it so we’ll know what to call it next time it sna

McGyver's Fowl Language; Prayer Chain; How we're making Daddy like Ty Murray and Today's Walk

By Pocket A dog I didn’t know very well, McGyver, got banished from Cyberland today, or taken behind the bushes by Princess’ firing squad and shot. I read a journal he wrote over the weekend and oh my! He used words we definitely don’t use in the bible. But I don’t know why he was eliminated. He didn’t use fowl language. It’s not like he said flamingo. Or feasent. One of the things I most miss since being banished from Cyberland is the Puppy Prayer Chain presided over by the Minister of Love Fonzie Tuxedo. Now I find myself worried about the chain. You can only ask for prayer if you do so from the Prayer Chain page, and unless you get a blood test, certification of kennel cough vaccination, two forms of accepted ID and are directly related to one of Kevin Bacon’s dogs, you can’t comment on it. But Foley and I, having been merely banished, can comment on everyone’s posting: see no membership has its privileges. So we’d like to say: our thoughts and prayers are with Simba,

For our Mom

By Foley Monster: It’s Mother’s Day, so this is for best woman in the world: My Mom. There are so many things she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is, that’s why she never posts pictures of herself, which is such a shame because none of you get to bask in her beauty. She doesn’t like going on Facebook and seeing her picture, which is why my face (which I have no problem with, no one puts mirrors low enough in my house to see my beautiful face so it’s the only time I get to see what you see everyday: the glory of me.) Daddy doesn’t like to put his face online either, but that’s because he’s a grotesque loser who would make people close a window quicker than if a twister was coming. My Mommy didn’t rescue me. I was living on a farm as happy as could be when I was a pup, but one day she came wandering into the yard and I bounced over to her and began scratching her ankles and from that minute it was love. When I was a puppy should take care of me and when she got

The Incredible Yorkahulk

By Pocket: I don’t understand much of what’s been going on lately. My doggy profile is in a new place and I do like it. There are so many friends there. I am sharing it with Foley, and as you can tell, she’s a bit of a bloggr hogger. Oh and I peed on a woman’s leg who was wearing a black robe and she yelled at me. Everybody needs to calm down and get back to what we used to do. Like me, I don’t have the orange ball with the Donald Trump comb over any more, and now I don’t care what colored balls I put in my mouth. Lately I’ve been chasing the green ball. See, you can adapt to things, new sites, green balls. I just don’t want to be fighting with everyone any more. Can’t we all just get along? Foley was on the Google today and writing down stuff. I don’t like to see her so worked up about these things. She is like a dog with a bone. She is coming over here now and she has that look on her snout. I’m telling her I don’t care what just happened I don’t want to hear abo

Foley v. Princess is settled on Judge Judy

The plaintiff is Foley Monster: She says she was illegally banned from an Internet site for dogs and she wants to be allowed back on. (Foley and Pocket walk in and stand behind a desk.) The defendant is Princess: She owns the Internet site and she says she can do whatever she wants. (Someone carrying a cardboard cut out of a Yorkshire Terrier comes in wearing a curtain.) It’s the case of the Yapping Yorkies: (Judge Judy comes in, sits behind the bench, and looks at the file then looks up.) Judge Judy: OK. It is my understanding that Ms. Monster is suing Ms Princess over access to an internet social network for dogs that Ms Princess is asking we do not refer to by name and we will respect those wishes. Now what is this? An Internet site for dogs? Bird….what is this Internet site for dogs I don’t understand?. Bird: Grumble, mumble, don’t know, never heard of it before chuckle, chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. Judge Judy: Internet community for dogs, now I’ve seen everyt

The dreaded T word

By Pocket I don’t know what has happened. For the past week Mommy, Daddy and Foley have been hogging the computer. They have been barking loudly, typing furiously, and even barking cuss words when the ‘puter ain’t acting right. Finally today the three of them all curled up on the floor to sleep and I got on the ‘puter and I couldn’t get on Doggyspace. And you know why? ‘Cause of something Foley did: Now is that fair? First I have to put up with her twittering her gas under the covers at night and I have to come up gasping for air like a coal miner emerging after the canary just died, and now she cut me off from my friends. And worse than that my Mommy and Daddy were talking last night and they said the dreaded “T” word: Trainer. Why oh why would I need a trainer? The incessant barking? Nah! The squeaking like a squirrel stuck in a bear trap whenever someone comes home? Nah! The peeing on the floor? Nah! The crapping on the floor? Well maybe. But they are going to

An encore performance by the D Space Band

I’ve been neutered and deleted and neither was pleasant but at least I was asleep when I got neutered and got pain medication. I saw this coming last week and prepared so no surprises. Before I bring on the DS alumni band for an encore let me take a minute of your time. Please understand: This all started with the DS administers refusing to give Tanner back his profile considering he had been a member for so long and was sick. Tanner did nothing wrong. His Mom put the alias of a former DS owner’s name in a comment. That comment was made after 11:00 PM and deleted before 8:00 AM (EST). Nowhere in the community guidelines does it say you cannot give the name of another dog owner, and since the dog supposedly no longer has a profile, what was the harm? His Mom needed support and that’s what social networks are for. Many of you have read the strange, disturbing response, and that put us on the road to where we are now. I felt like I had to take a stand and don’t regret any de

Blog IV: The Search for Princess

By Foley: The first time I saw that dastardly Princess of Cyberland I knew I had seen her before. Was it during the raid in Algiers? Was it in the jungles of Venezuela where I am known as “The Iguana?” Pocket and I put on our private dick hats and began to search for where we had seen this femme fatale before. Then we stumbled on to a place called Google. It was huge, with all the information in the world cluttered in every spot, and then, in a especially dark and dangerous place called Yorkshire Terrier Puppy Pictures we found this link: There she was, first column, second row, in a group of pictures used by people who don’t own a Yorkie and need a photo of one, our Princess. “Oh my Dog Pocket do you know what this means?” I asked her. “Yes, Princess has pimped herself out to

Tanner update

By Foley: Guess who I heard from tonight? That's right, Tanner Bub, and he says he is doing awesome, he is resting up and will make his return to the Internet at a still to be determined location soon. The support you have all given him has renewed his spirit and his fire. And when he is ready do you know where he's going? He's going right back to that Cyberland castle, where that phony little dog thinks she rules, and this time when that little scamp barks, she won't be barking at a scared, sick dog, but at a warrior, and, I know that she thinks she sees all, but she better look over Tanner's haunches, because behind him is an army, The Tanner Brigade, an army of banished, angry, hurt, but strong dogs, who are ready to bring that house of cards she considers a castle tumbling down around her. and no matter how much she barks, and how much her Daddy yells, bullies, threatens, and hits the delete key with the desperation of Desmond entering the code in the hatch,

My orange ball has passed away

By Pocket My original orange ball died today. Daddy was throwing it to me. It was almost totally split down the middle, one side had all the orange covering gone, the other only had a small strip of orange going across it, making it look like an old man attempting to pull off a comb over on top of his shrunken skull. Daddy threw it, it skittered across the floor, no longer even bouncing. I picked it up, rushed back to Daddy, and he went to take it, but I held on, and pop, it broke in two. And there wasn’t a danm thing in there. Great! Then Daddy walked over to the trash, opened it, and dropped it, leaving my best friend, my orange ball, in the trash. I followed Daddy back to the living room. He sat on the floor. I looked up at him. “Where’s my orange ball?” I asked and began to look all over for it. I’m not sure if I’m going to find it. I think something happened to it. Oh well, let’s nap.

The man next door vs. the determined squirrel

By Pocket: I spent a good part of Friday with Foley sitting by the big windows by our deck watching the tall man who lives next-door battle out most troublesome enemies, the squirrel. The man was putting up his bird feeders. Foley and I have no quarrel with small birds, and as many of you know, we have a wonderful relationship with the neighborhood Canadian geese who we use to deliver our poop-on-you awards. Before he put up his bird feeders he decided to make them squirrel proof. First he took used ups of sour cream and he cut a hole in them, and worked them down the trunk of the tree. Foley and I looked at one another skeptically. He did this several times. Then he had these plastic things, they looked like flying saucers, or maybe upside down birdbaths, and the put them on poles that he had stuck in the ground. By the time he was done every tree either had a flying saucer or a upside down sour cream cup. Then he took a wire and strung it between two trees. Then he took barbe