The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Our friend Cooper needs our prayers.  He has a condition that causes his bone marrow to make too many red blood cells which can cause seizures, hemorrhages, blood clots to to the brain, tumors and death. On Wednesday the vet told his Mom that his HCT level rose five points in two days which was very scary.  Also she could not get the medicine he needed because it was not available yet.  He told her to watch Cooper to make sure he was not showing any signs of needing a blood draw but never told her what those signs were.  His poor Mom didn’t know what to do or which way to turn. On Thursday Cooper and his Mom spent six hours at the vets.  They took his blood which doesn’t seem nice and didn’t replace it with fluids for a long time leaving our friend a little loopy and tired.  He has to go back a week from Monday for a CBC.  While there they had to suffer through what always happens when you spend too long at the vet, they came in contact with someone who was putting down their pe

The last time our Pup of the Week, Scooter, was so honored, it was in September 2010. It was a dark days for us dogs. We had recently lost some of our friends to the Bridge and when Scooter’s groomer spotted red marks on his mouth and tummy the vet put forth two courses of action: One, he would be fine, the other would be another pup lost to the bridge. The diagnosis was IMHA. He needed a transfusion and lots of expensive treatments. But Scooter is a champ and he pulled through, fighting off long odds, helped by his Mom’s love. Thirteen months later (an unlucky number) in the six days before the dead walk the Earth (also unlucky) Scooter got some unlucky news. He has a condition that causes his bone marrow to make too many red blood cells which can cause seizures, hemorrhages, blood clots to to the brain, tumors and death. Even sadder, Cooper was about to come off the medication for IMHA. After a year of fighting off one illness and beating it, and maxing out his Mom’s cre

In between our modular home and the one to our left is Mommy’s gardens. On the edge of the gardens is a black dual bird feeder holder, one very big, one very small. Next to the feeders are two thin fern trees where thousands of birds live. There are Blue Jays, Robins, Sparrows, all different types of pretty birds. Foley ignores the birds like she ignores most things but I’ve become friends with them. I have reached an agreement with them. They talk to the big birds for us so they don’t swoop down and carry us off. And I chase off any vermin that comes near them to steal the food. When Daddy just takes us out to pee I usually hang out at the feeder and discuss the news of the day. One day, late in August, a pretty red bird was eating some of the seed that fell to the ground. I wandered over, pretending to smell for a proper pee spot, because neither Daddy or Foley liked me talking to the birds, and found a pretty red bird. I asked him what kind of bird he was and he said he

I felt a crushing sadness when I learned of Snickers going to the Bridge, perhaps because of the culmination of passages to the Bridge since the fall of summer, perhaps because I so enjoyed our conversations, perhaps because, as his Mom said to me on Monday, he was her best friend, and perhaps because I don't think many of you got to know the pleasure of his friendship as much as I did. Snicker had quite a long life for a dog, had a wonderful Mom, a wonderful family, but whether it be a two year old, or a 15 year old, the passing of a dog, bar the passing of a child, is so incredibly emotionally taxing on our Moms. Snicker had a very hard last year. We both had the same attitude about the grandbabies who came to visit us. We loved them, but gosh, they are a bother, wanting to pick us up, chase us, just love the literal stuffing right out of us. I had Pocket and her eternal cuteness to throw at them while I scurried under the bed, but Snicker's had only his own eternal

Dear Aunt Foley: I am a 14 month old male dog. Despite having an older brother to show me I still pee like a girl, by squatting. I didn't think it was any big deal. But then my Mom goes and puts it in a blog. Now everyone knows I'm a premature squatter, I'm an underdeveloped leg lifter. Am I failing in my duties as a big male of our species? And should I be mad at Mommy for spilling my squatting? Bouncing Barrry Dear Bouncing Barry Your Mom is just worried about you. You know how Moms want us to be perfect and happy and never have a thing wrong. All our Moms assured her that there was nothing wrong with squatting. Some boys even admitted to squatting themselves. So you don't have anything to worry about. Just don't let your brother Benjamin tell any of his law enforcement buddies because if they find out you're a squatter they'll go Andy Sipiowicz all over you. Dear Aunt Foley: I recently learned of a dog named Kelly that went to the brid

We don't see much of our great big American Bulldog cousin Mia, She used to come visit us at the condo but she has never been to our new house. She used to go for rides all the time with our human brother Chad. We didn't go to her house too much. Chad and his wife Lisa don't like Mia jumping on their couch because she sheds. Pocket and I don't abide by the rules so much. So we don't go over there; it has something to do with if Mia can't jump on the couch than neither can we. Humans: So many rules (I mean how are you going to snuggle with someone if the don't let you on the couch?) Lisa then had her human litter of one. A cute little buy named Calvin who we love very much. But like lots of first time parents Lisa and Chad were protective of their precious new life. And Mia, who had gone from being the baby to being the baby watcher no longer knew where she fit in the family. Mia wanted to check out this new little life. But her parents were

This week, after we had collectively suffered through tragic deaths of close friends I put on my editor's hat and tasked Pocket Dog Private Dog with finding a happy story for this weeks pup of the week. Pocket sniffed all around the Brigade's playground. She turned over rocks. She sniffed every tree. But there was nary a good story to be told. Then, during one of my late night trolls through the blogs I found it. Among the stories that had caused of sadness was one concerning Shadow's Mom. She had a lot of back pain, and she had a kitty scan, and they spotted something on her liver. A spot on your liver, like a spot of liver on your plate is never a good thing. Shadow asked the Brigade to pray for his Mom and we all did. It did seem that lately everything was going poorly. So while we prayed for Shadow's Mom we had come to expect the worst. But on Monday the good news arrived. The spot on the liver was nothing to be concerned about. Shadow's Mom

Pocket and I like to complain about things but we are the two luckiest Yorkies in the world. We have the best friends anyone could ask for, and we have our parents tied around our little dew claws. To give you an example of how we have our parents under control I will relate this story. At our condo across from the state mental hospital there was a back door with windows that went almost to the floor so I could stand and bark at anything that moved in the back yard. But since we moved to the Village of the Pruned we don't have floor to ceiling windows and I can't help in the neighborhood watch. This morning Daddy saw a squirrel by his bird feeders. It is my job to keep the vermin away from the feeders. It had been raining and the ground was wet. I guess Daddy didn't want me to get my paws wet, he had just brought me out and dried my paws when I came in. So he picked me up from my comfortable chair, carried me out on the porch, opened a porch window, pointed out

Oh man, I think I should have jumped over something bigger than a dime at K9 Kamp. It seems I might be too wide for my own good. Mommy is still painting the doors of our modular home. You would not believe how many doors there are in this place. They could shoot "Let's Make a Deal" here. This is the first experience I have had with Mommy painting. Every four or five years Mommy paints. Foley has been through it before. Usually she likes to see me stumble into trouble. But she knew how much trouble there would be if I caused a paint spill so she told me what ever room Mommy is working in stay out of it. Before I continue with my story let me point out that I am only six inches tall. That leaves a lot of door to be painted that can not get on my fur. I mean why even paint the bottom six inches of a door? What human sees it? They never look below the knob anyway. I have consulted with Foley, and while she agrees that it was entrapment, she won't take on

Daddy put me down on his chair the last day of K9 Kamp. It was on a Thursday. It was a cool day and there was a heat wave coming. We had to complete the challenge today, present our Travelocity gnomes to Phil at the finish line, and find out what trip we had won. Daddy told me that this would be a simple challenge. We would get the flexy leash. We would then walk to the back of the Village of the Pruned where there is a cul-de-sac with four homes. Daddy picked that spot because there wasn't much traffic, a large circular area, and not many people to witness what could be another incident of K-9 Kamp Komedy. Koly suggested other activities we could do from previous camps. Daddy and I read them but the only one I was interested in was jumping the dime and some pups didn't feel that was much of a challenge but I swear according to the math, using my body size and weight, and Koly's, my dime is just as big as Koly's log. Come Thursday morning Daddy leashed me u

Whenever we are blessed with a new life in our families it comes with a promise, not a guarantee, but a promise. A promise that we will be able to watch this little life grow, that we will have years of love from it, books of memories, countless smiles. But sometimes this promise is broken, and when it is it steals something from down in our soul. There was a lot of promise in Ruger Ru. He marched into his forever home, shortly after Tanner Bub, a legendary dog, went to the Bridge. He was not brought in to replace Tanner Bub, no dog could. He was brought in to sprout new buds of love in his family's heart, and that goofy little puppy took to that job like a duck to water. Ruger Ru was more than just the family dog and Cocoa's new brother, he was part of our family. We were there they day he arrived home and, through pictures and video, we all watched him grow up. We laughed about his antics the way we laugh about the way other people's children drive them mad

There is nothing Pocket and I enjoy more than our walk through the Village of the Pruned to the mailboxes. We are so excited that there might be something for us. Most days we only find the same silly human missives. We aren't disappointed. Before we're back on the ramp we're excited about what the next day may bring. And then it happens. Daddy says "a package for Foley and Pocket." We drag him back home like we're champion dog sledders. Daddy dismisses the human missives and reads who our mail is from. He says it's from our brother Leo the Lion, Leo the Brave, Leo the Generous, and his wonderful Mom. There were two personally made Bauser bandannas and two personally made Bauser Halloween bandannas. There were also two tennis balls (which Pocket has already hidden behind or under something,) and four plush toys. What a haul! Leo you are truly a wonderful friend. And yes, we have pictures. These are two photos of me wearing my bandanna.

It took us a long time to begin this week’s challenge. First, Daddy needed days of therapy after last week’s challenge. Also the weather was hot and humid. After a steady rain last night it had finally cooled and we were ready to begin the next leg of K-9 Kamp. I was excited to hear about the jumping portion of this week’s challenge. I love jumping. But Daddy does not. It brought up bad memories. When Daddy was in middle school he had a fitness test. Part of the test was jumping rope. Daddy was not very good at it. To compound the problem his teacher kept yelling at him “Come on Gay boy jump rope, jump rope.” In this week’s instructional blog Koli gave us good news: Daddy did not have to jump rope. Koli said how great it has been for him to learn to exercise with his Mom. Except for the walking exercise Daddy and I haven’t done well with that, unless you count his stumbling, running, and carrying me a joint exercise. Daddy thought we were supposed to jump on a cur

I don’t like to admit how lucky I am. I would rather come on the Internet and complain about life. Saying how wonderful your life is doesn’t make for good blogging. So I tend to highlight what doesn’t go so well. But I am a lucky dog. For the last eleven years I have been able to live with my Mommy and Daddy. But it doesn’t work that way for all dogs. Sometimes, no matter how much they love each other, or, at least, loved one another, they can’t stay together any longer. My Daddy isn’t my Mommy’s first Daddy. Wait, that isn’t right. Humans relations always have me confused. Mommy had a Daddy before Daddy. Oh gosh I am confused. Who is Mommy’s Daddy? OK, there used to be a guy who slept with Mommy that wasn’t Daddy. Maybe a hundred. I don’t know. I am going to have to lie down soon. But as for me, one Daddy, one Mommy, living in wonderful co-dependent bliss. But for our pups of the week, Dulce and Ginger Dash, their Moms and Dads decided that life would