The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

I know, I know.  You're all thinking, these two again?  I do like to spread the pups of the week recognition around a little but when the candidates include these two what can you do? You could very well be asking why we are recognizing Kolchak and Felix again.  No, it's not because they made us a whole tin of great googa ooga balls that we enjoyed more than anything we had all year.  No, we have picked them not just for one reason, because if it was only one we would have passed them over for some pup who got a splinter in his paw, but they actually gave us two reasons.  I mean two reasons:  what can we do? The first is the incredible work they did in finding new homes for Sota and Freddy.  In Miss Gina's last days she was  very concerned about what would happen to her pups.  She shouldn't have fretted for a second because she belonged to a group with Kolchak, Felix, and their wonderful Mom, Miss Jodi. When Miss Gina passed to the bridge it was a body blow

I believe I am having a mid-life crises.  One:  I plan to live to see my twentieth birthday which puts me smack dab in the middle of life.  Two:  I have exhibiting uncharacteristic behavior lately.  To wit: Eating:  When I was a pup I would drive Mommy and Daddy to the edge of despair by refusing to eat.  Daddy would stick his index finger into the gross mixture of wet puppy food, then put it in my mouth and scrape his finger across the roof of it and my and teeth so the food would get into my tummy.  His finger tasted better than the food.  Even as I moved into adulthood I would skip meals if something during the day upset me, or I was angry with Mommy, because my not eating would upset her so.  Now, she could shave my tail and give my hair to homeless dogs and it wouldn't stop me from eating.  I eat my food.  I eat Pocket's food.  I lick the plates until there isn't a taste of food on them.  I lick the floor around the plates.  And when Mommy and Daddy are eating I mak

During my many hours of surfing the Internet searching for all things pertinent to pups I read several postings that professed the loss of a limb for a dog was not as traumatic as the loss of a limb for a human.  To this I say Chihuahua chitlins.  Can some hooman produce a list of three legged dogs they have interviewed on this subject?  Did one of these pup experts appear on Larry King?  Has Larry every said:  "Let's go to Hattie Mae in Fredericksburg?" This month two of our very good friends, Summer Grace and Sandy both needed operations that turned them temporarily into three legged pups. Beautiful Summer had been suffering from knee problems for some time now.  Then on Thanksgiving her other knee went (hold on, I need to look up the proper medical term) kaflooey.  Plus, to add insult to injury, she also had to go on a diet so she wouldn't gain weight while she was immobile.  Gosh, if you can't run and play, at least they can do is let you eat. Whil

I warned them, and warned them, and warned them but they would not listen to me, and today they paid the price. Mommy and Daddy drove down the Dirty Boulevard to the hood today to get our Christmas cards from their drug dealer.  To no ones surprise but theirs the drug dealer did not have the cards.  Now I spend my nights sleepless, knowing that my photo, and Pocket's photo, are floating around the ether somewhere until someone finds it, and uses Photoshop to put our perfect faces on freshly shaven dogs. Daddy sent Mommy into the hood to get the pictures because that's how he rolls.  He sat in the car reading his Entertainment Weekly (sorry gals, he's taken) while Mommy risked life and limb to wish everyone Happy Holidays.  Finally, after digesting a fascinating essay on both of Reese Weatherspoon's deep thoughts, Daddy realized that the sequence of slipping the drug dealer unmarked non-sequential bills and him slipping Mommy an unmarked envelope of adorable Christm

I thought we had an agreement with our humans.  We live with them as long as we can, then we go to the bridge and wait for their arrival.  Upon hearing the horrific news of Saffron's and Sage's Mom's diagnosis I sent Pocket to the Ladybug Law Library to procure a copy of this document.  It was stamped non-binding.  After a slip of the paw led to an hours long google search (I typed in non-bonding by mistakes.  Humans.  Really?  You have an interest in such pictures?) I realized that non-binding means we can't hold humans to the agreement.  What a gyp! A special poem for Jackie Oooh oooh oooh Jackie Pool Don't give in to the rising gloom Try to wear a smile when all you want to do is frown Oh, Jackie, with the love of two great dogs you can't be down Our hearts crumbled when we realized the same Big Bad C that took Freddy's and Sota's Mom Ms. Gina was now stalking Ms. Jackie.  Oh how we love Ms. Jackie.  She helped out our Mom without being

You can spread the word of the birth in the manger, you can promise the babies that Santa is on the way, you can spread merry and bright cheer:  but I know the truth.  This Christmas thing.  It's one giant photo op. Pocket and I hate the Christmas tree. It's appearance means that we will soon be tortured by our two perfectionist (only when it comes to Yorkie Pictures) parents and posed with flash bulbs blinking at us more than a Kardashian acting like a Slore.  We made it through seven days without getting our picture taken and we began hoping that Mommy and Daddy had found the perfect Christmas cards in the discount aisle at Hallmark.  But on Sunday my faith in a retail giants ability to overstock during the holiday was unrealized  The camera was brought out.  The posing was about to begin. Luckily, for Pocket, there were no antlers this year.  The antlers don't matter to me.  Daddy tried to put them on me once.  That's why he is known as Three Knuckles.   

From the desk of Pocket Dog: Every day when Daddy gets home from work, or when we sleep late weekend mornings, after our constitutional, I frantically search the house looking for where my little yellow ball has hidden from our previous days play, and when I find it I drop it besides Daddy. Sometimes Daddy throws it over my head and I chase it as it bounces away. Sometimes he rolls it and I either stop it like a goalie, smothering the ball, or chase after it barking. And sometimes he just flicks it over my head. When he does that I jump up, open my mouth, and have the ball bounce off my jaw, or smack off my nose, or flick off my teeth, or just pass right through my mouth like it was Steven Johnson's hands. I go on Tanner Brigade. I watch the videos. Dogs catching balls, frisbees, sticks, water fowl, and I can't catch a tiny yellow ball. Foley, who has never played ball in her life, will sit, watch and criticize, but, since she is the only other dog in the house sh

As recounted by Pocket: It was a cold Friday after Thanksgiving morning as Foley emerged from her tent for her morning constitutional. She heard the galloping of paw hoofs and turned to see General Mollie running to her with a missive in her mouth. Foley saluted her. Mollie spit the missive on the ground. "It's from General Levi," Mollie said. "He is offering to surrender." Foley took a long puff on her pipe and read the message. "Very well," she said. She called me over and asked me to write a message to General Levi. She would meet with him at the Appomattox Dog Park. Foley then gathered her Generals: Hattie Mae, Hobo Hudson, Luca, Cocoa Puff, and Kolchak. Foley announced that they, along with her and I, would be walking to the dog park to hear his terms. "Walk?" Hattie huffed. "I just did my nails!" It was agreed that Hobo and I would carry sticks in our mouths and Hattie would lay on a chair constructed on t

Foley Monster:  Welcome one and all to the Tanner Broadcast Network's coverage of the Tanner Brigade Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Pocket:  The streets are lined with young pups anxious to see their favorite dogs in floats that they have been working on since late Wednesday night. Foley Monster:  We can tell by the roar of the crowd that the first floats have turned down Ladybug Street and are headed to our broadcast booth on Sophie Square. Pocket:  I am so excited I think I could pee myself a little, and, yup, I've done it. Foley Monster:  Our first float is the 12, Chappy and Whiskey float and there is Chappy sitting at the front of the float looking as handsome as ever. Pocket:  The entire float is adorned with pink ribbons in tribute to 12's victory over cancer.  Look at how proud he looks. Foley Monster:  And Whiskey is on top of the float.  His parents are letting people in a prop door and he's not jumping on them.  What an impressive dog Whiskey has beco