Sunday, July 31, 2011

Jackie Lynn is our July 31, 2011 Pup of the Week

What do you have to do to become a Tanner Brigade Pup of the Week?  Occasionally all you have to do is show up.

But when the showing up requires the coordinated efforts of several volunteers, a long car ride with your mates, and when you arrive at your forever home you meet the most flamboyant, funny, fabulous family on the Brigade, you move directly to the head of the class.

So we are very proud to announce our July 31, 2011 Pup of the Week:  Jackie Lynn.

When judging who we should give the most prestigious award in all of Pup blogging to we look to see who has become the center of the water dish conversation at the Brigade.  Since the brink of the weekend nothing was more important to us dogs and our slope noses, not the silly debt ceiling debate, not the baseball trade deadline, or football free agency, then how to get Jackie Lynn home.

Jackie Lynn began the week as one of Bit Bit's puppies so she was already family, but when we learned she was going to become Hattie Mae's sister, her apprentice, the next in line to the throne, and the title Diva of the Brigade, we knew this was something special indeed.  This was like Kate Middleton's chariot ride to Westminster Abbey, if she started the trip in Berlin and had to spend the entire time squished in the back of the chariot in a cage with Pippa.  For the men, we will pause, as you enjoy that mental picture.

Okay, back to the blog fellas.  A special thank you to the wonderful woman who organized Jackie Lynn's trip: Martha Chandler.  While us pups are the Lord's angels on this Earth, sometimes humans aide us in our mission, to bring love and joy to those we love to serve, our people. So let me say thank you to Martha, the pups whose transport you arranged will bring their humans such love and comfort that there is no way to repay your efforts.  Thank you.

Jackie Lynn's new parents did a leg of this run, taking them to their home in Virginia.  Hattie Mae let us know they were leaving and she asked for us to pray for their safe travel because it was a long trip, it would be late at night, she loves her parents very much, and her Mommy hid the key to her closet.  So she asked us to pray for safe travel and they did.

Late at night the Hattie Mae mobile pulled into the driveway and Jackie Lynn was home.  Hattie Mae was so happy to see her. A little sister is what she always dreamed of, someone to teach all her fashion secrets to.  Smartie and Fella said "Oh man, another one," but they knew their Mom and Dad loved Jackie Lynn and they would too, or at least tolerate her. 

Once she arrived home everyone rushed to Hattie's blog to see pictures of our new friend and learn more about her.  She looks so precious we all fell in love with her.  (I think some of the boys did so in a Biblical way.)

And finally there is the name.  Jackie Lynn.  There is no greater tribute to a person then to name your dog after them.  And there is no more deserving person to have a dog named after them then Saffron's and Sage'a late Mom, Jackie Pool.  Another human who recognized that we're angels caring for you humans, she devoted so much time and effort to us, until the Lord called her home, probably to take an important role in overlooking us universally.

It would mean so much to her to know that Hattie's new sister was named after her.   And now, whenever she looks into her new pup's dark, soulful eyes, she will think of her deeply soulful friend.

In the story of the life of Jackie Pool, this would be the last chapter, her friend Darla, sitting with a pup named Jackie on her lap, loving her like she loved the original Jackie.

Welcome to the family Jackie, yours, and ours, with dozens of members who love you deeply.

You will never be alone again.

Monday, July 25, 2011

TWIB: This week in blogging. A round up of blogs we follow

This week Silvie of silvieon4 reported on the adoption of Libby, a puppy mill breeding female who is emotionally scarred  Her adoption had all of us doing the dance of joy.    I found out Pocket can't dance as she repeatedly tripped me.  Silvie and I should be on Dancing With the Stars. 

The Poodle (and Dog) Blog reported that Ozzy Osborne and his wife Sharon got a rescue Yorkie for the dirt cheap price of $10,000.  The money went to an autism charity held by Sharon Osborne's co-star Holly Robinson Peete.  Their other costar from "The Talk" Lisa Remini bit a postman on the leg at the bar. 

Wyatt from the Gardening With Wyatt blog went to a dog show and came back with some marvelous pictures of pups. 

Our good friend Nadine, who is mother to Buttons at the Bridge, gives us a list of three popular household items that may be dangerous to all pups. 

My good friend Kirby the Dorkie gave us a list of puppy do and don'ts.  This was especially cool because it was only for humans.  As always us pups can do what we want when we want because that's how we roll.

The Dogs in Brazil are still in desperate need of help.  They are losing their home and their shelter and so many dogs they are helping are going to go without aid.  With NFL training camp opening Pocket and I are scheming to kidnap Tom Brady so his model wife from Brazil Giselle Budchen will pay up and we will give it to our South American friends.  Kidnapping a grown man might be tough but if there are any two Yorkies who can do it.....well, we'll give it a shot.  If you have any spare change any little bit will help. 

A little low on cash and your pup is demanding new toys?  Check our Peggy's Pet Place to see how to make your own toys.

Love and a six foot leash shows you the best way to beat the heat is to find a nice spot in the shade and our blogger friend posts pictures of hot dogs enjoying shady spots

ATTENTION:  Our good friend Koli had to get rushed to the vet for labored breathing.  He is OK but might have allergies.  While Koli always writes a blog worth reading, with wonderful treats and great nutritional advice, this one concerns the health of our dear friend.  Let's all keep a good thought in our heads for Koli.  You can read about it here. 

Hey, do you want to see some Yorkie pictures of a dog almost as cute as me?  Check out My life in the dog lane and these cute pictures of Abby.

If you want to know how to create your own dog sympathy card for a Mom or Dad who lost a piece of their heart, check out the TaggerPaws Blog

Minnie and Mack find a poor pup locked in a car on a hot summer day and do the right thing. 

The Gang of New Yorkie upstage the "Rent is too damn high" guy by forming the "It is too Damn Hot" party.  But these clever New York Yorkies have a way to beat the heat

The Carny Dog Blog has the sad story of a dog named Diesel.  It is only the first part of the story and we hope Diesel's future becomes rosier in the second part. 

As always you should check Shiloh's K9 Horoscopes before you make a move. 

And finally, our friend Ashley Hill Owen of the Lucky Dog Rescue spends a night rescuing the beers from a local bar.  Of course Koli's Mom Aunt Jodi had a hand in corrupting the poor girl.  You can't expect a young girl from Mississippi to be able to have a dialogue about beer with a Canadian teen pop star.  While you're there check out the Pet Pardons Button and like the Lucky Dog Rescue on Facebook.

If we missed your blog this week we will keep our eyes peeled for it next week.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

The Gustavson Pack is our July 24, 2011 Pack of the Week

Often life is like a trip at sea.  For days you have sunny skies and clear sailing.  Then the sea gets rough, a storm comes in, a sail is torn, the mast snaps, and you become swamped as your family starts to sink.  All you can do is chart your course and hold on tight.

That is what happened this week to our pack of the week, Fuzzy Bacon, the late, beloved macaw Irie, now flying at the bridge, their canine siblings, 12, Chappy and Whiskey, and their strong and courageous parents, The Gustavsons.

Their lives have gone up and down, listed from one side to the next, but under the study hand of their parents, they keep moving forward.

Fuzzy originally answered to Dexter when he was rescued by Roxy, Dutchess and their Natalie who fostered him until his forever home could be found.  That home seemed to belong to the Gustavsons who opened their home, their heart, and their great originality at naming pups, changing Dexter to Fuzzy Bacon.  When Natalie put Fuzzy in his new Daddy's arms he snuggled in with a sigh realizing this was home.  Each Gustavson pup came out to greet Fuzzy with various degrees of enthusiasm.  But he was accepted as one of their own.  Soon they were all playing in the yard.

Shorty after Fuzzy joined the family their macaw sister, Irie began passing blood through her cloaca which is a birdie butt and a good word to know in Friends With Words.  At first the birdtor thought it was just from her laying eggs.  But it was just the first swell of an incoming storm.

Like many of our rescue friends Fuzz had aggression issues.  Let's call them the dark clouds on the horizon.  His parents decided to send him to a K9 Clinic for re-hab, and, as we sadly found out this weekend, when someone says you need to go to re-hab, you do not say no, no, no.  But the clinic wasn't sure if they wanted to say yes, yes, yes because there were some "red flags" about Fuzz's personality that might prove to be too difficult to overcome.  His mother cried, knowing, at heart, Fuzz was a gentle soul.  His Dad gave him confidence, telling him he knew he could do it.

The wind began to rip at the sails.

Fuzzy was diagnosed as being a stealth aggressor which would be great if we hadn't already caught Bin Laden, and ironic since Osama did not eat bacon.  This means that he goes from being happy with his tail wagging to being angry without warning.  It would probably be easier for people to understand if it was called Nicholas Cage syndrome.  But then people would be confused that Fuzz's aggression came from massive amounts of cocaine and not something that happened in his past life.

Fuzzy had to go to pre hab before he went to rehab.  It is exactly what it sounds like, prison before re-hab, Lindsay Lohan land, when they watch you and evaluate how much rehab you need.  After that it was a trip to AA Aggressors Anonymous.    Fuzzy got dropped off and told his Mom and Dad he would do his best to make them proud.

The staff decided Fuzzy needed even more pre hab and obedience which was silly.  Whiskey was a tough rescue and his parents did a wonderful job with him teaching him obedience.  What was different with Fuzzy?  But the people at pre hab were "experts" so their parents  went along. 

Then the expert gave them the most distressing news.  He thought that Fuzz needed a new home.  That he needed to be an only dog.  They began the sad task of finding Fuzzy a new home.

Then his father came to a great realization, the "experts" were a bunch of ass hats.  Mom and Dad decided for a second opinion from another expert who was more pert than ex.  They found another person to evaluate our friend, this one came highly recommended by another dog owner they know.  So they busted Fuzzy out of rehab and brought him home, back to his family.  We don't know what the new expert will say, but whatever Fuzzy Bacon's fate will be it will be decided out of love and patience, and he's a very lucky dog to be a Gustavson.

But there are times the storm won't let you free. 

This week Irie the Macaw passed from this Earth in her Mama's arms.  From the Gustavson pack's blog breaking the sad news to us:  "
Mom and dad were gently petting her and telling her how much they love her.  She had started pooping blood again, and even a trip to the vet yesterday was not enough to save her"

I don't know why such bad things happen to such a wonderful pack.  I have spent much of my life lying in the sun asking such questions. 

Life is a ride on rough seas.  Some days it's calm.  We've got to learn to enjoy the calm before the storm.

12, Chappy, Whiskey, Fuzz, Mama and Papa Gustovson, we love you.   We love your unwillingness to give up on a family member, the love your give our kind, the inspiration to others you give, the kindness, the wise advice, the friendship.

You are our pack of the week, and will always be number one if our hearts.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

The Yorkie that laid the golden vick

I could have used your help this week.  I was in desperate need of a slop pass.  I was on the rice and chicken diet for three days because of loose stools.  I mean loose stools?  Come on!  Do humans pay attention to what comes out of them?  The noise.  The smell.  How do you manage to sit on the seat and still manage to get remnants on the very seat you are sitting on?  And you humans keep eating the same crap?  But it's 110 degrees outside, I am forcefully toothbrush mouth raped on a nightly bases, I have stress with the Ning weasels and I don't have the proper consistency for a couple of days and wham I'm on slop.  But I have to thank Kolchak's and Felix's Mom Aunt Jodi who suggested some yummy pumpkins that firmed me up like a virgin at the Spiderman conference at Comic Con.  We then had Poop Watch 2011 on Twitter with Koli and my tweet friend Princess Abby and by Friday afternoon I was like the goose who laid the golden eggs if golden eggs pickers made a face of extreme discomfort when picking up the eggs then tossed them in a big trash barrel with about two dozen other golden eggs.  Then when I came back inside the house someone stole my couch.  But that's a story for another day.  I also want to thank Aunt Jodi for convincing Mommy to do away with my ball gag tooth brush and use soft cotton on my teeth.  She's the best.  Also she had the brilliant idea of feeding my parents nothing but cereal.  Now I won't worry about them leaving remnents.  I just don't know why she stole my couch.  But that's a blog for another day.  So my golden vicks are back, my toothbrush has been thrown away, and Pocket Dog Dog Detective is working on the case of my missing couch.  Well, two of three ain't bad.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

From the files of Pocket Dog Dog Detective: The curious case of Jodi Chick

My name is Pocket Dog.  I make my living on the mean, filthy streets of our Elderly modular home park.  Everybody here knows me as a dog who can get things done.  I ask them not to question my means,  my methods.  I'm old school, a pack of butts strapped to one leg, a Roscoe on the other, a denim diaper all I need to cover my butt.  I work alone except for my office girl Foley.  She's an old lollipop but she's quick on her paws and knows when to keep her tongue in her mouth.  Dames like her are hard to find in this biz.  She's good on one of those fancy new typewriter things, me?  got no use for them gadgets.  Carry all my knowledge under my fedora. 

The other night Foley put on a pot of Joe and went back to working that fancy typewriter when she stumbled across a case for Pocket Dog Dog Detective.  Two of our friends Kolchak and Felix were again given a tip of the hat for their skills at spinning a tale.  To accept the kudos they had to write about unknown secrets, something that always peeks the curiosity of Pocket Dog Dog Detective.  One of these unknown secrets was their Mom, a dame named Jodi Chick, or a chick named Jodi Dame, (got to stop chewing my pencils down to nubs) was once an actress and a singer.   I told Foley to ask the Dame her real name.   But the chick balked like a chicken on her last egg.  She said we would never be able to find the name she used when she was a working girl.  Well no one throws down the gauntlet of a challenge at the paws of Pocket Dog Dog Detective without me nosing it under something where I will forget where it was and will be forced to use some of my simollions to hire a dick to track it down. 

I reached out to my friends Koli and Felix asking them to spill the beans on their Mom's identity.  But they won't open their clams for nothing but their Mommy's yummy treats.   I told them that trying to keep a secret from Pocket Dog Dog Detective was like trying to sneak a doughnut by Daddy at breakfast time, sooner or later, you're going to end up with the hole.

I went back to my office stumped like a tree attacked by an obsessive compulsive rabid beaver.  Foley came in, freshly groomed, smelling like the valley in the early morning after you spent the night staking out a nut hoarding squirrel.  She reminded me we lived in a village of old timers who have nothing better to do then stare at the boob tube all hours and do something called crochet.  I had her look up that Humanbook site, the best thing to happen to a dog detective since kibble flavored smokes.  She printed me up a picture of the Chick in question and I hit the hard streets of prune town looking for some answers.

I scratched at the door, and when Mr or Mrs John Q Grandma shuffled to the door I gave them the same spiel.  I was looking for a child actress.  My Mommy had to have her left toe nail replaced and she was a donor.  It was a hard story but in these parts you can't show up at folks' door with nothing but muffins and a smile, you got to bring out the hard times stick whittled from a 1,000 broken dreams. 

Some of these old timers have been sucking oxygen so long they wouldn't recognize a photo of their own kin.  Others refused to answer the door living in fear of what goes on the in hard streets at the end of the perfectly manicured lawn.  Others opened the door, barely let me get a word out, and then ran out the back screaming "talking dog!"  But one lady looked at the photo, and handed back to me quickly, saying she didn't know nothing.  Barely looking at a photo and saying you don't know nothing is a sure sign of someone with something to hide.  And I don't mean the burned pie behind the toaster oven either.  I scratched on her door hard and she came back.

I told her you could never be too careful walking the hard streets here.  You're walking down to get the mail and the next thing you know your in the back of a van with a bunch of Mexicans headed west to pick fruit.  It never hurts to have a little Yorkie watching your back.

The old dame considered this then came back and stuck a post it note to my tail.  I chased that damn thing for 20 minutes before I finally barked to my short legged assistant for help.  I told her I had a tail on a good lead and needed her help tracking it down.  When Foley arrived I asked her to get the note, and, for being so prompt I told her she could take a whiff of my butt if she so choose, but she's a high class dame and passed on the rosy experience.

Foley got the note and pawed it to me.  Curse the damn thing it was in that foolish fancy typewriter scrawl that Pocket Dog Dog Detective can't 'cipher worth a dusty raw hide bone.  But Foley said she just needed to paw it into the fancy typewrite and we would have our answer.

I followed behind her because she's the kind of lollipop where the view is best from behind.  She then entered the code into the computer and the video came on the screen.  And I had solved the case of a chick named Jodi.

Now you can see what Jodi Chick did before she became a Chick and a dog blogger and loving Mom.  And remember no matter how hard the case you can count on Pocket Dog Private Dog.

Here she is:  Let's Go to the Mall starring Jodi Chick

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Reba is our July 17, 2011 pup of the week

The close calls end quickly.   The Mom who swerves her car to the left to miss the drifting motorcycle in the other lane.   The little girl who doesn't get off the school bus followed by a call from the school saying she is safe, and had just boarded the wrong bus.  The close calls end quickly, but linger in the mind, the buried "What If?" reverberating for weeks in the recesses of the mind.  Take the case of Pokey and Maggie.

Let me make clear; sorry my friends, but you two are not our pups of the week.  Running away from home will never earn dogs that honor.  It might earn you naughty dog of the week, but I am afraid if someone were to do a Google search for naughty dogs it might provide web sites only dogs with serious self esteem issues would like to see.  But I am willing to bet a bag of high quality kibble that their Mommy has spent more than a few nights this week wondering what would have happened if their dog walker had not found them.  But it's another of our good friends who suffered a close call that we celebrate as Pup of the Week.

Our great labbie friend Reba has earned the honor this week.  Mom found a large lump on Reba's throat causing an even larger one to form in her Mom's.  Reba likes to play in the tall grass.  But she gets those sticky things all over her when she does.  Her Mommy was either afraid she swallowed one because she had been coughing and panting a great deal, but even more scared that she hadn't.  If she had a burr in her throat it could do a lot of damage to her it and could be cause for an operation, and lots of pain.  But if it wasn't then it could be a baseball sized mass in her throat which would be deathly serious.  Her Mommy made an appointment with the dogter for Saturday.

But when us pups look up at our Mom with big, sad, brown eyes, and sigh in pain, Saturday might as well be the next century.  Reba's Mom decided she couldn't wait for the weekend, every second could be vital, so she loaded Reba into the car and they drove to the million dollar midnight dogtor.  This is where Pokey and Maggie redeem themselves from their daylight wandering.  They let their Mom text back and forth with Reba's Mom while she was going to the vet so she had someone to worry with.  (Unless texting while driving with a lumpy dog is illegal in California then this definintley did not happen.)

Thankfully the million dollar x-ray showed the lump was not attached to anything.  It was an abcess most likely caused by her snacking on those sticky things during her walk.  She only had to take some pills and the million dollar vet tech said she should be all right.  The one thing the million dollar men said that was worth their price was the pill could be taken in lunch meat.  Oh there is nothing I enjoy more at lunch time then meat, even if it does have a pill in it.   The dogter wanted to see if the abcess went down or burst.  I hope it doesn't burst.  I saw on Tosh.0 a woman giving birth in the bathtub and it was gross.  I don't know what that has to do with Reba's condition but I just wanted you to know I saw it and it was gross.

By the end of the week the swelling had gone down.    Hopefully in three weeks it will all be gone away.  She went to her real dogtor who squeezed her butt until stuff came out then jabbed something in there, pretty presumptiuoius for someone who only bought lunch meat.

After all that Mommy gave Reba a bath, I mean I can't blame her after an anal sac explosion.  Her brother Logan broke their in ground pool, which is quite impressive.  I think it is the biggest thing any dog I know has broken.  So everything seems right in the chocolate lab world.

Except I bet you her Mom, Aunt Wendy, wakes up in the middle of the night wandering what if?  It's the same What if? us dogs suffer through when you come home late.  So if you don't come home late we won't have any more strange bumps.  It will be called the Reba, Pup of the Week Accord of July 17, 2011.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Blog The Change: In the Kennel Over There

This post is a part of the Blog the change event.
We encourage you to check them out and take part in this great event.

Being alone breaks my heart
but I always will be true
and when your mama cannot be found
I'll sing this lullabye just for you
and what becomes of all the little dogs
with no one to pet their hair
well they're lined up all around the wall
in the kennel over there.

So you better bring a blanket
for those not for sale
and if I can’t find a family
then I’ll be in doggy jail
and what becomes of all the little pups
who don’t seem to have a prayer
well they're sleepin' sadly
in the kennell over there.

and if you chewed slippers
or nipped a baby girl
you'll find out where the unwanted sit
just like hobos on the rail
home is a place
where a royal flush
can never beat a pair
but if you don’t have a family
you’ll be in the kennel over there

if you’re eating tree rats
or sleepin' in the rain
and there is never any supper
and man has let you down again
I thought I heard a kind motherly word
the Shepard knows where
you jump on the cage and pray for luck
in the kennel over there.

So what becomes of all the little dogs
who never find a home
well the world just keeps gettin' smaller
when you can’t call anyone your own
so here's to all the little pups
with no one to take them anywhere
who are sleepin' without a pillow
in the kennel over there.

so let's climb up through that small cage hole
we'll run under the stars in pairs
and I'll show you where the happy dogs grow
free from the kennel over there

(Based on the song “On the Nickel” by Tom Waits)

Friday, July 15, 2011

Pocket's favorite time of the day

"Pocket where is your ball?" Daddy asks every morning while Mommy is in the shower.  

I don't know why he asks me this.  If I knew where the ball was I wouldn't be hysterically running around the house looking under every chair, bureau, and couch cushion in the house.  Then Daddy gets down on all fours and begins to look under the same things.  I don't know why he does this either.   I have everything covered at ground level.  It's the human's eye view I need.

Daddy is frustrated when he does this.   Before we moved, when we played ball, the ball would roll under the hutch or the microwave cabinet (it's actually a liquor cabinet but it was called the microwave cabinet because they stuck a microwave on it so people wouldn't know they are drunks) and Daddy would have to crawl into the dining room to free the ball, while I stood near the ball's location and barked.    \

When we moved there was nothing in our ball throwing area that the object of my affection could roll under so Daddy thought he could hurl without consequence.  While I enjoyed this at first I must admit I got winded pretty easily.  And I missed watching the old man crawl.  So I started to nose the ball under things.  Then I would stand by my hidden treasure and bark.  Daddy would come crawling over and ask how I got the ball under what ever I had hidden it beneath.  "She put it there, idiot," Foley would say from inside the warmth of her blanket.  Apparently Daddy didn't get the message because a few minutes later he asked me the same thing while trying to stick his hand under the TV stand (which is still a liquor cabinet but they stuck a TV on it saw now it's a TV stand.  If we didn't have appliances I would be very concerned my parents have a drinking problem).   When breakfast or supper is ready (we always seem to play around dinner time) and Daddy goes to the table I begin to get worried about the ball like that dog who puts his bone in a safe deposit box.  Foley says she wouldn't open that box because she doesn't know where the key was kept during the dogs travels.

So, in my worried and agitated condition I nose the ball under something.   After supper we all snuggle together and watch our programs.  Then it's bed time and we scrunch together and get real comfy.   Well, by the time I wake up, I don't have any idea where that ball could be.

I whine, and cry while I search and Daddy soon joins the team.  After awhile we find where I have hid it.  Daddy pulls out the ball and I bark in excitement.  He then picks me up and kneels with me, scratches my ear and calls me a silly little elf, or scratches my chest while I give him a lick and he tells me he loves me then throws the ball while I bark after it and scamper on the hard wood floor.

You know, us finding the ball together, and him picking me up and scratching me and calling me a silly name, that's just about the best time of the day for me:  It's all about me and getting attention.  Just don 't tell Daddy.  I don't want him catching on to my whole nosing the ball under furniture thing.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Paco is our July 10, 2011 Pup of the Week

It's time to use our paws to dry our tears as we leave a good friend behind.   We our a Brigade. Dog soldiers in the fight for the freedom to bark.  We have praised our comrade, comforted his family, and will keep Bo in our heart for a long time.  We will stay in contact with his parents and siblings, giving them a paw to cry on, as we push forwards on our journey.

With each member we lose we become stronger, because it give us another angel on our shoulders.  These angels watch over us to make sure nothing bad happens to us before it is our time.  So let's celebrate a friend who, with the aid of the Bridge Angels, got a good diagnoses and will stay comforting his Mom for many a day.

In June we learned that our Italian friend Paco had a bad blood test.   His liver was not working properly.  In fact there was a chance it was liver cancer.

There was so much going on at that time.  Bo had been diagnosed.  We heard that Saffron might be sick.  We did what we always do.  We rallied to all their sides, but Bo got worse, and we stayed near his side, and Saffron got better and we celebrated.  Meanwhile all poor Paco could do was wait for his tests to come in

Paco said they were waiting for the results of an echography.  Yeah, me neither, must be an Italian thing.  But anything with graphy in it that is not an etch a sketch is bad news.  So we prayed very hard, without being sure what we were praying for except we wanted Paco to be all right.

Poor Paco had to go for a series of ten shots.   And I doubt he got a treat after any of them.   Although I do think people are much nicer in Italy, they invented the sausage which begot the snausage so we owe the people of Italy a great debt.    His Mom was very worried about him, as we all were (I hope he knew this.  There was so much going on with Bo and Saffron at the time, but we were thinking about Paco, loving him, and visiting him in our dreams.)    Finally, on the 7th he had his echography.    I don't know if you know this but humans have to pay when they get graphies done, either through green backs, notes written on little, long note pads, or those little plastic cards with the number that are fun to chew but get our parents so upset when they are found bit, folded, and spindled.    Well we dogs have to pay too.   Since we don't have any of those things they make us pay by not feeding us.  When is anyone going to do anything about the health of dog care in this country? Or Paco's country!  Geez any country!   No!  Breakfast is too high a price to pay.  Paco was so upset at this outrage while he was on the table he was trembling with outrage.    But it was worth it when he found out that there was no cancer!   The liver was inhomogeneous.    No, don't know what that means either but it was because of words like that that I invented Google so go check it out.  He also has a small heart problem but nothing that should be a major concern.

So our Paco is going to be with us for what should be a good long time.  And I bet you the Bridge Angels had something to do with it.   So as always a tip of our tail to our angels, thank you for helping Paco, you too Bo. 

For being the first one helped by our new, stronger, Bridge Angels, and being just about the sweetest dog we have ever known, Paco is out July 10, 2011 pup of the week.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Daddy's Arms: A Song from Bo

I will leave behind all of my toys
I played with when I was with you
All I
need's your endless love
And my well worn collar
As I say goodbye in Daddy's
Although my heart is breaking
My soul will steal away through your
And leave behind the pain that was aching

The late day light has washed your face
And everything is turning blue now

Hold on to your couch pillow there's nothing you can do now
As I say goodbye in
Daddys's arms
You'll find another heart dog
And I swear to god by Christmas Day,

There'll be someone else to snuggle you.

The only thing I'm taking is the love that all you gave me
I'll float
past your chest of drawers
And your broken window chimes
As I say goodbye
I'll say goodbye, say goodbye in Daddy's arms.
I'll spirit my way down the darken hall
And out into the evening
The greyhounds
at Rainbow Bridge
Have kept their fires burning
No more hurrying through the rain

Letting go of this god damn pain
Someday I will lick your lips again,

And never break your heart again
As i say goodbye I'll say goodbye
Say goodbye in Daddy's

Based on "Ruby's Arms" written by Tom Waits.  This picture is of Bo and his Grandpa who was waiting for him at The Bridge

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

What is up with the Facebook sweat socks?

I was surfing on the Humanbook last night, pretending to be Mom, and sending leading messages to eligible gentlemen when I saw this ad:

OK, what in the old blue dog are these things?

I guess if you have problems with skin allergies they are nice.  But if you had a human boy and the doctor told you the only way to stop the allergy was for him to wear a dress to school, would you take him shopping at the Limited?  Look, I live in a neighborhood where everyone walks hunched over and smells likes prunes.  They wear clothes they bought at Caldors and K-Mart which went out of business before blogged my first post (now that sounds dirty.)  But not a single one of them looks so danged foolish as these dogs. 

I am sure it's a wonderful product and has helped lots of dogs but personally I would rather take my chances with the rash.  I am not going to the Dog Park looking like I just came from Dancing With The Stars rehearsal.  I may only be a little Yorkie but if I saw a Pit Bull coming at me wearing these I would be fairly certain I could kick it's ass all the way back to the podiatrist. 

Look at this satisfied customer
This picture is called the last picture my Mommy took before I bit her hand off.

Couldn't they make these products in different colors besides bright white?  I could see maybe wearing these if they were tan and furry like my legs.  But I don't want to be strutting around at night wearing such bright white socks that the coyotes can spot me with their eyes shut.  And look at this poor pup.

What are they doing to her?   Water boarding?  Oh for the love of our Heavenly Dogs just admit you peed on the rug even if you didn't. 

Honestly, we put up with a lot from you humans:  the anal probe to get our "temperature"; the fixing of us when we are not broken; the costumes; but this, this, it looks like you were planning on dressing us, put on our socks and took us outside (now this we have seen in the land of the prune eaters.) 

So ask your humans to boycott the Humanbook until the ads of these doggy sweat socks are taken down.  I have not been this upset at an ad since that jumping dog on Doggyspace.

And Zuckerberg, if you even think about replacing the dog sweat socks with Nike ads Pocket and I are going to make the Winklevoss twins look like a poodle in sweat socks.

Monday, July 4, 2011

July 4, 2011 question of the week

How scared are you pups of fireworks?  From a scale of one to ten.  One being not bothered at all, ten being sitting with Mommy shaking and whining.  Pocket and I are about a one.  We don't like high pitched noises.  How about you?

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Kolchak and Felix are our July 3, 2011 pups of the Week

Last week I said that we don't tell the ones we love how much they mean to us until something happens to them.  So let's not do that with two of the best friends a dog could have.  For no other reason then that they are the funniest, most helpful, smartest, sweetest dogs we know, Felix and Kolchak are our pups of the week.

These two do so many little things to help us.  Like this week our friends Scooter and Molly had stinky booger breath.  First I thank the Heavenly Dogs that this week our biggest problems was booger breath.  Scooter and Molly posted a blog asking if anyone had experienced something like this.  I knew exactly what to do.  Stop asking idiots like Pocket and me and ask someone who knows.  That would be Kolchak and Felix.  Within minutes of posting the question for them Koli and Felix had the answer ("could be having a little tummy upset or indigestion. Try a heaping teaspoon of pro-biotic yogurt mixed with a heaping tablespoon of canned pumpkin or mashed sweet potato with meals for three days. If the smell doesn't improve or if it comes back after you stop the probiotics and fibre let us know and we can look at other stuff OK!")

I mean who knows these things? Well Aunt Jodi, their precious Mom, is studying puppy nutrition.  When Mommy and Daddy were young puppy nutrition consisted of opening a can of Alpo, turning their heads from the awful smell, poking a knife down the side of the can, having it slide out like an elephants bowel movement, chopping it up, bringing it outside, feeding it to your dog, and four hours later go out to find a huge, hideous dump of refuse.  But now, thanks to Aunt Jodi people spend more time worrying about what they put in our bodies then what they put in their own, which is good because humans eat some truly disgusting crap.  You dogs know what I mean. The stuff that falls on the floor, you look at it, and decide to lick a dust bunny instead.

Aunt Jodi helped us today without even knowing it.  I became tired of our dog food.  There is no doubt that I am a high performing dog and I need a high performance dog food.  We checked Sage's health group on Tanner Brigade and Kolchak's Koli's Notes blog and found our answer:  Evo. (Koli, if we are wrong, please give us a week before telling is.)  Daddy did a search for Evo retailers and found a garden store near us.  Mommy and Daddy drove there.  Not only did they find the food, but some bird feeders to finish the garden, and deer antlers, which we learned from Koli were excellent chew toys because they don't break off into little bits.  This was an early birthday gift for me and  loved it.
I chewed on it for two hours and there wasn't a bit of broken of antler to be ingested.  So, without a phone call, e-mail, text or instant message Koli and Feli got us better food, a great birthday present, and helped feed innocent little birds.

We could go on for thousands of words about everything these two have done:  Through their blog they have taught us so much about food and health; they have taught us all incredible recipes that fill our tummy with yummy; they make us laugh with every blog they publish; they post blogs to rescue puppies; they use birthday celebrations to have contests and raise awareness of their causes and they always have a paw to cry on.  When the lovely Hattie Mae sent me some birthday treats she sent me delicious cookies made from one of Koli's recipes.  Again, helping without even knowing they are helping.

They are there for even the most disgusting problems.  When I decided to eat a wax ear plug (not as yummy as deer antler) and my poo was filled with long, thick, sticky white stuff Mommy sent Aunt Jodi pictures and she looked at my disgusting but sound proof poo and helped Mommy diagnose the problem.  No matter how busy she is she can always find time to help a friend who has done something silly like eating an ear plug. 

When they started their blog Kol's Notes it became an instant hit and they gathered dozens of loyal followers.  When I invited bloggers to the Brigade we got a few responses but when Kolchak and Felix reprinted the blog new members flocked in.

So for all these reasons, and because it is the Fourth of July and they are great Americans *hold on I have been handed a note from Pocket.  They are Canadian?  Really?  Oh well we can't do the whole blog over again, just remember to edit this part out.*

So for all these reasons, and because it was just Canadian Day and they are great Canadians, we are giving them our July 3, 2011 pup of the week.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Schools out for the summer. Schools out forever

Great news.    Mommy is out of school for the summer, and out of school forever.  She got laid off. 

I have been observing humans for 11 years now and I am fascinated with the way they use language.  If a human tells someone they got laid, it's a cause for celebration.  If a human tells someone they got off, well, it's a little gross, but still a good thing.  But if a human tells another human they got laid off everyone is sorry for them.

Humans used to get fired.  Like Mr. Trump says:   "you're fired."    He didn't lay off Star Jones.  And I would be very surprised if he laid with her.  She's not enough Star, too much Jones. 

Humans also use the term terminated.  This too is very clever.  First thing pops into a human's brain when they here terminated?  The Terminator

Now there is a man who knows about laying, getting off, and layng people off.  And what did he say.  "I'll be back."    Being either laid off or terminated plants the seed in a human's brain that they might be coming back, when there is no chance that they will.

So Mommy has been fired, displaced, dismissed, given the axe, sacked, whacked, forced out, evicted from the castle, not master of her domain, punted, dumped, scattered at sea, walked the plank, left at the shelter, had her nails trimmed.  It was a day I have dreamed of for a long time.  But when Mommy came home and I saw her long face I felt terrible that this dream had come true but the sausage tree dream remains elusive.  Oh of all the dreams to answer.  They gave her the shaft.

I have also studied human workers and I want to give you all advice.  First of all, when at work, try to do as little as possible.  If you do work, you create work, and the bosses don't like to have work created.  What you want to do is when your boss comes out don't look like you are working hard.  Sit down and breathe quickly then asleep at work.  Your boss will think you are taking a break because you were just working hard.

Maybe Mommy should have tried harder.  She said she gave all she had everyday.  But maybe it should have been a little more..

So now I am getting my full Denny Crane on. 

Wordless Wednesday