The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

I need to talk with my senior pup friends for a second.  I just wrote a blog about Mommy's car accident.  When I got finished it seemed familiar.  Then I realized:  I wrote the exact same blog two weeks earlier   I have blog-ja-vu.   Has this ever happened to anyone?.    Maybe I should cut out the Foleytinis and start paying attention, start listening to Mom, start following the rules and commands - maybe it is a new day for Foley Monster where I am like Caesar says, a happy, balanced, unspoiled dog who knows they are a dog.  Maybe when other dogs see how well adjusted I am - not being spoiled rotten - they will want to be like me and be well trained and obedient too.  Maybe it will change all the dogs on the Brigade, all the blogger dogs, dogs everywhere and we will have a better world between dogs and man! Nah! Anyway Mom wants you to know that she is healing up fine after her car accident.  OK, she has stopped looking over my shoulder so I can tell you the truth

 This one is for all the northeast coast lollipops and big boys who had to survive two made for TV movies:  "Holy Seismograph - The Great Northeast Earthquake" and "The Hurricane that blew New York" this week.  This includes both Me and Pocket, Hattie Mae, Smartie, Fella, Jackie Lynn, Nigel, Mollie, Pokey, Maggie, Willie Nillie and Jesse Belle and all other east coast dogs who had the earth move under their feet and then nearly blown away by a mighty wet, wild wind known as Irene. . And let us not end our praise here.  For we must remember those who did not get shook or blown, those who could only sit and fret, those away from the storm, subject to listening to the increasingly alarming predictions of doom from our national news agency.  The messages we received of support were enough to lift us up so we could surf over the air currents and stay as safe as the birds.  Truthfully, I don't know about the other Hurricane Pups, but we did not g

Kol's Notes has a great way for us to remember the pups we have lost Ashley Hill Owen writes another heartbreaking story of love, loss, and redemption in her Lucky Dog Blog . When you are done with that blog continue on to her blog about a dog named Lucky. And if you like to contribute to the Lucky Dog Rescue click here . Carny Dog shows us what happens when dogs laugh. After lots of searching on the streets of Brazil the Dogs of Brazil blog reports the finding a the missing little white dog. Life With dogs gives you tips on what to do if your are confronted by predators while walking.  It does not include my first choice, run like hell. Minnie and Mack tell how they survived the great quake of 2011. The No Dog About It blog recounts a dog parents worse nightmare. Life With Dogs reports about the fate of Hawkeye, the military dog who became a You Tube star when he would not leave the side of his master's coffin. Having had PTSD become a huge factor in o

Last month Pocket and I got a strange tree mail.  We both sniffed it for about ten minutes before we could decipher it.  The message was from the Ning Weasels who wanted their money. This was not a problem.  Last year the Brigade raised so much money we had a nest egg.  It's very important to understand the concept of the nest egg.  I had it hidden in Pocket's Triangular Kitty Condo.  Just before Christmas I went to check the nest egg and it wasn't there.  I asked Pocket what happened and she said she lost it.  I was livid. I wanted her to admit she lost it.   Say it! Say it! Say "I lost the nest-egg." Go on, say it!  Then Pocket looked behind the sofa and found it.  I took it and kept it in the Leopard Vagina Condo (which is bigger on the inside then the outside.)  I had no trouble finding the nest egg.  It was in a safe behind the Van Gogh. Pocket and I downloaded ourselves to the seedy part of town where the Ning Weasels hang out.  "Hey p

While us pups are the most wonderful beings the good Lord ever blessed upon this Earth we do have our bad qualities (although we are never supposed to mention them.)  The wost one is that we are selfish.  Like a little slope nosed who has first learned to speak what we want is "Mommy!"  Last week we celebrated Pokey and Maggie for giving up time with their Mom while she does transports.  I know I hate when my Mommy is away.  I fall asleep, I wake up, I don't know if she is coming home or not, it's terrible.  But you know what is worse than not knowing when Mommy is coming home?  When she comes homes with another dog.  That means sharing and we weren't built for sharing.  The thing about new dogs is they walk in the door and they automatically think everything belongs to them.  This is a big difference between us and humans.  When a human enters your house he doesn't pick up your toys, put them in his mouth, walk around the house, an

The Dog Carny Blog knows what dogs whisper to one another when they get close.  Boy does it set off fireworks.  Speaking of fireworks you can visit our friend Joyce's Boston Chomper blog.  Joyce is Mommy's nephew's wife.  There are pictures of Mommy's nephew Andrews with Joyce and one of them and Mommy's niece Amanda.  This isn't the July 4th cookout that Mommy and Daddy went to, it's another one that I told Joyce not to invite them to. The Dogs of Brazil continue trying to raise funds to keep their no killer shelter and clinic going for the many street dogs of their country. Pet Pardons has reached it's 10,000 pet posting this week.  Read about it at the Lucky Dog Rescue blog.  Stop in and thank Ashley and her partner Chris Hoar (no, I didn't make it up, but Mommy married a guy named Gay years before Gay marriage was legal in Massachusetts so who am I to talk) for their great work and remember to advocate for these poor pups on death row.

This morning Mommy went out for a Doctor's appointment and to run some errands and we were left home with Daddy.  She had been gone for awhile when his phone rang. We could just barely hear her nervous voice on the other end.  Daddy stood suddenly, the lap top falling to the floor, scooped us girls up, slipped Pocket into her crate, put me in the bedroom and hurried out the door. We were both very concerned.  We heard Daddy's car come back a half hour later.  Two doors shut so we were hoping she was with him.  When we got out of the bedroom we found she was.  But she was smelling like fear, and sadness, and frustration.  While crossing a  busy intersection on a curvy street in the pouring rain Mommy got broadsided by a pick up truck that crushed one of the loves of her life, her silver Honda.  She got checked out by the paramedics, and the police, and they were all very nice to her.  One of the neighbors got a seat for her to sit in.  Daddy got there and saw t

Not only have we forgiven Pokey and Maggie for their jaunt through the busy streets of their home town but we are naming them our August 14, 2011 Pups of the Week. They are two wonderful dogs, great friends, the stories of their treks to their forever home is as riveting as any we have heard.  But this week we are celebrating them for their selfishness.  Many nights they have to give up their wonderful Mom, Aunt Laura, while she transports rescued dogs to their forever homes.  There is no greater gift a dog can give to his fellow dogs then sacrificing time with their Moms so rescued dogs living lives of misery can get help reaching the humans whose lives they will fill with love and devotion.  We have also named Pokey and Maggie because I know they will have no problem with this condition:  They have to share this week's award with all the other dogs who have sacrificed time with their parents so rescue dogs can be transported on the Greyhound Railroad.  I apolo

You humans are so interested in our Vicks (poo, crap, dropping, remains, however you choose to term them).  Every time ours are a little loose, or irregular, the slope noses e-mail, text, call their friends to discuss what is going on with poo.  Inevitably we are fed some bland rice, chicken boiled until the juices are sucked out of it, bland yogurt,  and, if we’re lucky, something tasty like pumpkin. But what should we do when our Daddies have bad poo?.  What should we feed them?  How do we get them back to producing golden nuggets?   Every story about our Vick begins with:  “You wouldn’t believe what (insert dog’s name here) ate yesterday.  Well you won’t believe what Daddy ate yesterday. Let me set the scene:  Yesterday Mommy and Daddy drove down the Cape to see my Yorkie friend Lulu and the Therapist.  (New on NBC this fall:  It’s Lulu and the Therapist.  She’s a seven pound Yorkie rescue.  Her partner is a licensed therapist.  Together they travel the c

We have lost pups before.  We have lost them to Rainbow Bridge.  We have lost them when doors were left open and they scampered off into the wild.  But we have never lost a pup like we lost one this week. We lost him in cyberspace. It breaks our tiny Yorkie hearts whenever we lose a friend.  Earlier this week we got a notice that our good friend Lily was leaving the Brigade.  We immediately ran to her place and begged her not to leave.  Our surprised little friend said she had no intention of leaving.  It was another Lily.  We had another Lily in the Brigade?  Oh well.  I'm sure we will miss her.  A lot.  (Who knew?) But on Thursday Hattie Mae, having spent a week playing a befuddled Professor Henry Huggens to her little sister Jackie's Eliza Dolittle, decided to come to the playground where she found  Smoochy's place was gone.   She barked "Smoochy, Smoochy," over and over but there was no answer, no silly black dog running t

I knew when we moved it would happen, it always does, either after a move, or after a few years when Mommy gets bored.  The painting. Not painting like Aunt Connie.  Painting like Mr. Green Jeans.  Lots of blood, splash and tears.  Mommy trying to untwist her pretzel shaped body to reach the high spots, Daddy being as helpful as Curly on Ecstasy.   Mommy getting frustrated.  Name calling.  Daddy sobbing.  Days not fit for man nor York. It started in the hall bathroom this year.  The prune people build houses with some kind of vinyl print on the inside walls.  Mommy hated the vinyl print.  She wanted to paint it.  The neighbors said you can't paint these walls.  But with Mommy where there is a will there's futility. It took six hours for Mommy and Daddy to prime the little bathroom.  Since the print was put on the wall while it was being built, the print went under the molding, and no matter how hard they tried, or yelled at one another, or sobbe

Dear Aunt Foley, I think I have a serious problem and would like your advice.  See, I love people.  Any people.  Anyone that comes to my kennel, I love them.  I like to kiss them, snuggle them, sit in their laps, lay my head on their chests, and play with them.  I love for them to rub my belly.  I will even get into bed with them to do all of these things.  I especially love it if the people will make me run down the street, chasing a ball.  And, of all the people that I do these things with, I love men people best.  I wanted to go home with the latest man person that came by.  He now thinks I belong to him, but his wife says no, and my kennel keeper says no.  I'm thinking of running away from my kennel.  One of my rain-loving furiends has offered her home with a new ball and plenty of ice cream.  I have East Coast furiends that like to run away from their kennel and walk the streets, free as jaybirds, too.  The man person that I fell in love with lately is named John.  Does all