From the files of Foley Monster Attorney at Paws: The Case of Uggie's Missing Oscar Nomination

I, Foley Monster, Attorney at Paw, am filing a law suit for Uggie who shall also be known as the plaintiff against the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, to be called the defendant,  for discrimination for not nominating Uggie for Outstanding Actor in a Supporting Role for his performance in the best picture nominated film, The Artist because Uggie is a dog.  If you agree that Uggie deserves an Academy Award you can support him by liking his Facebook page: HERE

Many critics have maintained that Uggie is the best part of this highly acclaimed movie.  I cannot testify to this because (1) I am a dog and they don’t allow me into movie theaters (an exception to this is for seeing eye dogs, who sit on their owner’s lap and say “rut roo re’s roing rinto the ralley where the ruy’s rut the run.”)’  (2)  The movie is one of those artsy movies that only play in old theaters within walking distance of an over sized college campus; (3) It’s a silent movie and, like I’m paying money for that crap.  Uggie did have a small role in Water For Elephants but I didn’t notice him because that dreamy Robert Patterson (go Team Edward) and an olyphant were in it.

I anticipate the defendants’ answer is going to be that they don’t nominate animals in acting roles.  I would counter by saying that actor and well known creepy dude James Franco was campaigning for Andy Sedakis, who played an Ape in Origin of The Planet of the Apes to receive a nomination for his stop motion acting which was then, through the use of computers, turned into the actions of an ape.  So according to the prejudiced practices of the Academy a man playing an animal can be nominated but an animal playing an animal (or a human) cannot.  So they are not prejudiced against animals on film, just animal actors.

The lead actor in The Artist was nominated for Best Actor despite not having any dialogue,  the script was nominated for best original screenplay despite not having anything written on a page, but Uggie, who didn’t have any lines either, wasn’t nominated.   I understand that it isn’t possible for a dog to say words on film, but who is it harder to keep quiet for an hour and a half a human or a dog?  OK:  A male human or a dog?

I have had Professor Pocket do some research and we discovered that there were dogs nominated in the past but they, with use of makeup and special effects, made it seem like a human was being nominated.  Cases in point:  Cher’s Oscar win for Silkwood and Hllary Swank winning  twice.  Twice!  And Sean Penn?  Lollipop please.  

If the Academy would like to avoid this law suit we ask them to remove one of the nominees for Best Supporting Actor.  I would suggest Jonah Hill.  If you don’t recognize the name he was the fat kid in Superbad who wasn’t Michael Cera or McLovin.  We are also saving some young starlet the humiliation of having to buy a gown to match his big giant head on the runway.

It is just the Americans who discriminate against dogs.  The Cannes Film Festival awarded Uggie with the Palm Dog Award.   Those French know how to treat their dogs.  Uggie is up for a Golden Collar Award and director Martin Scorcese has asked that Blackie the Dog from his movie Hugo be nominated for a Golden Collar too.  It is a conflict of interest for me to represent Blackie (and also if he’s in a Scorcese film he is probably all mobbed up) but you can vote for him to be nominfated for  a Golden Collar Award .HERE 

Uggie has taken his snub so personally he has retired from making movies.  He does not have a statement, because he cannot talk, and spent all his time learning dancing and not typing, which is why he’s paying me, because I went to Paws Typing Class while he went to the Rin Tin Tin school of acting, and now I am his voice.  But Uggie will be heard.  I have been asked to relay to him that he is being asked to deliver the Best Supporting Actress Award.  When he does he is going to take a giant poo on the stage in response to the Academy.

Perhaps the screenwriters of The Artist are correct.  You can say more with actions than words.

12 us our January 29, 2012 Pup of the week

I was having a conversation with our friend Bauser this week and we said it seems like we have known each other our entire lives.  We feel the same way about 12, which is why when 12 became sick this week we were all so worried.

He had to go to the doctor hospital with pneurothorax.  I don’t know what that it is but it sounds very scary.  They also thought he developed a bacterial infection and we know what that is and that’s very scary.  They gave him some antibiotics and said he should respond well, unless it’s something worse, which would be even scarier.  In short, we’re scared.

We sent out lots of healing prayers to 12 and to his Mom and Dad who love their big boy quite a bit.  

12 contacted us the next day to say he was in good spirits but had pockets in his lungs, which, if they ruptured would collapse his lungs. Plus our big friends wasn’t eating.  Pocket and I grabbed each other and trembled in fear.   Then we prayed and sent out even more good thoughts. 

We breathed much easier when we heard that 12 was headed home.  Hattie Mae made him a comfy bed and put on soothing music for him.  I tell you if that girl wasn’t fixed I would start to get ideas.   He was taking his meds and tried to force down some chicken because he knew it would make his mom proud.  His liver and kidneys were good.  The dogtor said his weight needed to go up.  Who would have thought 12’s problem would be not enough weight?  So while we were feeling better, we were still consumed with worry.

Then we received words that the dogtor wanted more x-rays.  Man, what is it with these dogtors?   A bunch of us decided to upload ourselves to the doctor’s office and wait outside for 12.  Boy were the people at the office surprised when we all came flying out of their computer screens.  But when one of our close friends is sick we are there.

The dogtors came by and we all gathered around.  He said. that 12’s pneumonia was getting better.  He had to continue with his antibiotics and “steam baths.”  We all decided “steam baths” sounded very nice.  He also said there were masses in his lungs.  Our tails simultaneously went down when we learned this.  Masses aren’t good.   He said that they could be cancer but there would have to be surgery to find out.  We began to debate the pros and cons of surgery when 12 came out of the examining room.  Our tails perked up and we hurried to him.  We all gave him our various opinions of what he should do.  He thanks us but said it was going to be up to him and his parents.  We all gave them a kiss on the head then took over the computers so we could upload ourselves home. 

When 12 got home he sat down with his parents and hammered out an agreement.  They would keep him happy and comfortable and he would try to eat rotisserie chicken, cheese and hot dogs, as long as it’s hand fed.  .  Not a bad deal. 

So please say a prayer for our friend 12, and on the 2nd stop by and see him was we will celebrate 12’s eleventh birthday.

12, you are an example for dogs everywhere, a dogs dog, and I can’t wait to dance with you at your party.  

Ask Aunt Foley January 27, 2012 Edition

Dear Aunt Foley: I smelled French Fries and found the French Fry bag on the floor. I stuck my head in as far as it could go but I couldn’t find no French Fries, and I couldn’t find my way out of the bag. How do I stop this from happening again and where are the French Fries?
Lou ee

Dear Aunt Foley: I got a hankering for some pickles, and I stuck my head in a jar, and I got it stuck in there. I am just a young pup. I guess I shouldn’t have done it. Any suggestions on how to not get my head stuck in a can?
Cinnamon

Dear Lou ee and Cinnamon: I put these questions together because they cover the same subject: Young dogs sticking their heads where they don’t belong. I know the smell of fries (and pickles?) can be overwhelming but you have to learn how to resist. This, of course, is another trick of those humans who want to distract us from taking care of our parents.

Dear Aunt Foley: My friend Pez’s mother sent me a box of liver treats. Mommy left the box where I could get at it. Mommy went out for the day and left me and my kitty home alone. Those liver treats smelled so good I couldn’t resist them. I opened the box and kitty and I feasted on those treats. When Mommy got home I thought Mommy would be happy with us for being self-sufficent but instead she was mad for eating the treats without permission. Was I wrong?
Apple

Dear Apple: Oh this is one of the things humans do. They have trust issues. They leave food lying around to see if they can trust us. Of course they can trust us. We totally will leave the treats alone because we are completely trust worthy. Except as the treats sit there we begin to realize: The treats were put there because they haven’t learned to trust us after all we have done Who are they to mistrust us after all we have done for them? So we eat them, not because we aren’t trustworthy, but to teach them a lesson to don’t leave treats out to test us. So no Apple, you’re not wrong. That kittie though, totally wrong.

Dear Aunt Foley: I was looking at a picture of my dear friend Luca lying on his back and then I went into the bedroom, and I hopped up on the bed, and laid on my back, and looked at the mirrored ceiling my Mom has (don’t ask) and I noticed that Luca has things that I don’t have. I need to know what Luca has that I don’t have and why does he have them and I don’t?
Smoochy

Dear Smoochy: I have some very disturbing news for you. When you were a young pup, before you really knew what was happening, your mother cut your nuts off. Luca still has his nuts. But he is from Argentina. When he went to the vet he asked for an Argentinian. I believe what you got is called the Brazilian. You are a victim of the wrong South American country. I had a similar thing happen to my forlorn ovaries. Mommy says it was for our own good but I think they feel guilty about it and that’s why they spend so much time cleaning up our crap

Dear Aunt Foley: I am part of Secret Paws on DS. I have been asked to tell my Secret Paw what they need to know about me. I don’t know what I would say. What would you say?
Sushi

Dear Sushi: Well, I would first say that Pocket likes treats and to play with balls. We also are big fans of anything we can wear. We got a nice scarf and sweater from Smoochy last year and plenty of treats. But or me, as a successful lawyer, I have found that there is nothing better than cold hard cash. She put some bills in a manila envelope and mail it to Foley Monster. The bigger the bills the better. So take my advice Sushi, nothing gets the job done like cash.

Attorney Foley Monster's and Professor Pocket's Full Proof Way to Beat a Doggy DNA Test

It has come to my attention that some of your higher end condo associations have asked for a stool sample from all dogs who move into their units. They get a DNA sample from the poo, and if they find poo on their precious lawns, they send a sample of it to the lab to identify the offending pooch.

This is an attack on our inalienable right to poo. Also why is it our DNA that is being brought into question? When we are born we are just as happy to poo in the house like everyone else. But we are brought outside, against our will, to poo, and if the Lord meant for us to pick it up, he would have given us op-possible thumbs. So we have to rely on our silly, forgetful humans to clean it up, and half the time they have left the bag or scooper behind, and do likewise with our poo, leading to us having to submit to DNA testing, a violation of our personal freedom. Why don’t they get DNA testing from the humans? They must shed a hair or two fleeing the poo.

But instead it is on us, our precious bodily fluids to be kept on file and to be used for who know what purposes. So I turned to Professor Pocket and asked her what we could so to help our dog friends who could be suffering such an indignity. She spent a week in her lab and I will now let her explain her latest invention: The Anus Alias.

Hello. I am Professor Pocket Dog. Are you facing a loss of privacy because a power hungry condo board wants to have your DNA on file?. Then I have the solution for you. It is the Anus Alias. If you order an Anus Alias you will get a stool sample from a purebred dog who is not on any medications and has been thoroughly dewormed. You will get our patented Anus Alias packaging containing the clean stools, the packaging to go on your belly, and hair extensions in your color to cover the apparatus. As you know all dog DNA specialists want you to poo in front of them, so this is you’re only way to guarantee the privacy of your bodily functions.

How does it work? Simple. You are going to need a parent to buckle the Anal Anus around your waist making sure the pouch is full. Then drape the hair over you back to cover the pouch. Finally have someone snap to anal alias into place under your tail. When you go into the poo room try to walk with your tail down to cover the anal anus. Of course anyone who goes into a lab room to involuntarily surrender their poo with their tail up is one sick puppy.

Now, squat as you usually do. This will force to poo from the pouch under your stomach and up the tub and then out of your alias anus. They will gather the poo, bag and tag it, test it and then assign the DNA to you. From that point on you have the freedom to poo where ever you like and the evidence cannot be traced back to you.

Also, from that point forward, the anal alias is yours to keep. Although I would not use it for another DNA testing without a thorough cleaning, you can have fun at parties. Imagine the laughs that will erupt when someone says ‘oh my gosh, Leo just pooped a turtle.’

So, get yourself an anal alias before you anus makes you have to obtain an alias.

Pokey and Maggie are our January 22, 2012 Pups of the Week

We have chosen to honor our wonderful friends Pokey and Maggie not for their many achievements in advancing the cause of dogs, but to recognize their wonderful Mom, Auntie Laura Lunn, whom fate has once again struck down with a non life threatening but still big pain in the ass injury.

Aunt Laura does not let people know of the obstacles she has faced in her lie, obstacles that would make a lesser Mommy hide in their home. But she is the most adventurous Mom I know. And she has the perfect attitude for a dog’s Mom to have. When we arrived for our visit she made us feel at home and told us that is was a dog’s house. It is awful nice of Pokey and Maggie to let her sleep inside.

As many of you know, two summers ago, Aunt Laura had a terrible tragedy happen at home when a dog she had recently adopted, that had undisclosed anger issues, attacked her while she was petting him. The poor dog, who did not know what it was doing, ripped off most of Aunt Laura’s muscle on her forearm. She left that aggressive dog at home, and while bleeding a great deal, scooped up Pokey, made sure he had a safe place with a friend and drove herself to the hospital. What followed was months of painful operations and home confinement.

Despite having a bad experience adopting a dog Aunt Laura did not turn her backs on those pups who have not found their humans yet. First she adopted Maggie and except for a few things chewed up that shouldn’t have been, a few holes in the lawn, and one daring but ill advised prison break, she, Auntie Laura and Pokey have gone together like peas and carrots, and, um, more carrots.

And not only did she adopt another dog but she became an advocate for dogs who haven’t found their parents yet. Every week it seems like she is taking time to drive dogs searching for their forever humans for one point to the other, like a conductor on the underground puppy railroad.

But she injured her foot, and for us dogs in New England Aunt Linda hurting her foot is like Rob Gronkowski hurting his foot. Without Aunt Linda the dog transporting machine just don’t work.

For such a wonderful woman, she has had more than her share of problems, but she never lets it get her down. She always has pleasant comments and good advice for everyone, although it is rumored that she is a bit of a shark at Friends With Words. Her play of Zat got Alec Baldwin thrown off a plane.

Aunt Laura is an inspiration to dog parents everywhere. If they could all handle their pups’ digressions, their pups’ personality quirks, their pups’ great escapes, as well as their own medical problems with a smile and nary a complaint then they will surely be a woman my pup!

Get well soon Aunt Laura. We love you.

A gift from the very special Shiloh the Star Gazer

Thursday we went to the mailbox and there was a present addressed to my parents but it was from Shiloh the Stargazer. We thought it was something for us because Shiloh was our Secret Bub Receiver this year. We had so much fun buying stuff for her because she is so wonderful.

We hurried home and Daddy opened the box. Unfortunately it was not something for us, but in a way it was. It was a lovely key box with Shiloh’s picture on it. It looks like this.

Now you might ask why this helps us. Because when we go for our walks Daddy can never find his keys or wallet. We have to stand around with our legs crossed while he storms around the house cursing and looking for his keys. Now he knows where his keys are so there is no leg crossing for us, only paw crossing when we say we don’t know who peed under the table.

When Mommy saw the gift she told Daddt he should do something like this for Smoochy who was our secret bub. Daddy said he had no nowhere near the skills that Shiloh’s Dad had but none of us wanted to hear it. We banished him to the wood shed.

Well, things did not go well. After four hours all Daddy could make was a log. Mommy got so mad she burned it.

So sorry Smoochy, no new key box for you, Daddy isn’t as good as Shiloh’s Dad at making things.

But to you Shiloh the Star Gazer and your parents Mommy, Daddy, and us two little Yorkies want you to know how much your gift touched us. Thank you so much and it was more than a pleasure being your Secret Bub.

The Vets of our Lives

Last Thursday we went for our annual vet visit. I know you are all concerned with the results so let me tell you upfront we are both fine. We call this our annual trip to the vet, but it’s like saying our annual trip to the Super Bowl, because our vet is never in the same place from year to year.

The first vet I went to was in Norton MA. He wasn’t a bad vet. But his waiting room was cramped and I went there with Blake, and Blake did not like the vet at all. She was a terrible panter and shaker. And the vet was always running late. Blake was ill, and the trip alone got her so worked up, that the next year we went to a new vet,

This vets was in Raynham. They seemed like the perfect vet. There was a large waiting room, they were very good when Blake was transitioning to the Bridge and very comforting when she finally passed over in Mommy’s arms in one of the examining rooms. We were all very happy there, then my new brother, Jax, began crying out in pain. Mommy took him to Raynham. There was a new vet there. He said that Jax had a shoulder strain. Mommy said she doubted it was a shoulder strain. To this day she is still mad at herself for not getting a second opinion. The vet gave Jax some medicine for the pain. A week later Jax took a serious turn for the worse. He couldn’t move without crying, he had bloodshot eyes, he was in horrible pain. Daddy called the vet who refused to see him saying Jax just needed another prescription. Mommy and Daddy took Jax to the the emergency vet in Bridgewater. They told Mommy and Daddy there was nothing they could do and Jax was put down. When Daddy got home there was a message from the vet in Raynham giving results for a dog that wasn’t even Jax. Oh how Daddy wishes he saved that message. Mommy, Daddy, and I sued in small claims court, we won, but lost the appeal because the vet spent thousands of dollars on “expert” witnesses. Anyway, once a vet kills your dog, you sue him, win, then lose, you can’t go back.

So then the hospital in Bridgewater became our vet. They might have killed my sister Copper. We can’t prove it. Copper got her rabies shot and it caused a large tumor to grow in her leg. They operated on her and took it out but three months later she passed away in her sleep. They said her little heart gave out but could it have been something that entered her blood stream from the shot and traveled to her heart? We don’t know. Then we took in little Skye. The poor dog never breathed a healthy breath in her six month life. A week of that was spent at the Bridgewater hospital where they lost her. Oh not lost her like she went to the Bridge. They just didn’t know where she was. It took them a couple of hours to call us back telling us they found her and how she was. They sent her home but she couldn’t walk in a straight line. We took her back to the hospital but since they had so many different vets we got who hadn’t seen her yet and wanted to run the same tests that kept coming back inconclusive. We had to fight our way out of there with her.

A woman Daddy works with told him of a very nice vet in Middleboro. They took Skye there. Skye didn’t come home. But they were grateful to the vet because he told them the truth. There were all sorts of tests, operations, and procedures he could do, costing thousands of dollars, and at the end of the day, after much suffering, chances were very high Skye would die anyway. He helped send little Skye to the Bridge last night.

He was a good vet, but a little old fashioned. He liked giving shots, lots of shots, even when we didn’t want them. And he was very expensive. And he was far away. And old. He started giving some of his practice time to a younger doctor who we didn’t trust as much. My Daddy’s cousin told him of a vet he went to right down the road from where we were living. We made as appointment and were very happy with this vet. And he didn’t kill any of us.

But he too was older and phasing out of his practice. He had another vet helping him and we did not like him at all. He used to hold us by our front legs and let us hang to look us over. It took his and his assistant four time to weight Pocket getting different weights each time which is remarkable given that she weighs five pounds. Then he became insulting to us. He told us we had bad breath, said we had bad teeth, he was the worst first date ever. Most of all he stressed that I had to have my teeth cleaned immediately. If not it could lead to premature death and peace without honor. Mommy didn’t want me to get even light anesthesia but it was stressed to her the importance of having my teeth cleaned. He had me put on a list to get my teeth cleaned immediately. This was in January of 2011. They called in November 2011. By this time we decided not to get the teeth done, and to find a new vet.

We found one is Swansea, that my cousin Bailey goes to, which was good news, because we were running out of towns. We rode there in style in our new car seats. We got there and we found a nice big waiting room. Of course everyone came over to tell us how cute we were, again, being beautiful is work. We got brought in the room, weighed, and then the doctor came in.

I was up first. He checked out my teeth, and, while they aren’t pearly white, he said if we continued using some gel on them they should be fine. He found everything about me perfect and Pocket the same and it is one of the best vet experiences we’ve had. And we’re quite confident he won’t kill either one of us.

Biskit is our January 14, 2012 Pup of the Week

There have been so many tributes written about our friend Bikset, all of them deserving, that you might question why another is needed. It’s because we all feel the need to do something to honor Bisket, and to try to do something to heal his Mom’s broken heart, by conveying how much Bisket touched our lives, through the written word.

I think we all know of Bisket’s illness and subsequent trip to the Bridge. It began around Halloween and lasted three months. So quick. Us dogs can go from healthy to the Bridge in such a short time. It’s like you’re standing on a mountain top, and you slip a little, and then you keep falling, faster and further, until you hit the bottom and break apart.

I don’t need to recount what has justifiably been written a hundred times, Bisket’s unbreakable loyalty, his love for life and his friends, the joy and peace he brought to his parents, his kindness, his, for most of us, through the written word, becoming parts of all our families, and how his passing became like one of our own dogs passing.

I would like to write from the perspective of a pup. You see, when we are sent to Earth, we are given an assignment, find our human(s) and give them every last measure of our devotion, and, when we are done, to return to heaven and wait at the Bridge. Sadly some pups never find their humans, but the lucky ones, like me, and Bisket, do.

But in our final days we do ask ourselves, did we do enough, did we give that last true measure of devotion. Bisket’s Mom Gretchen and his Dad Matt left no doubt in his mind that he had given them everything he had when they showed him how much he was loved. Three nights before his scheduled surgery, when his parents were accepting that chance of good news was slight, Bisket and his Mom slept on the floor together because she was afraid he would not make it through the night, he had been drooling and smacking his lips. Neither slept much, and their cat Tien sat watching them all night (never good to have a kitty stare at you) but Bisket made it. Having your Mom stay up with you all night, especially on a cold uncomfortable floor, means you did it, if she is willing to do that for you, you’ve done more than your share for her.

In the days leading up to the vet’s decision Bsket let his Mom know it was time, by not eating, by sleeping, by not being able to go outside. He knew his Mom would do what he needed most, even though it would crush the heart he had protected for so long, he knew that she would let him go.

The night before the trip to the vet his Mom and Dad spent the night up with him, holding him, telling him how much he had done for them, letting hi, know his work here was done. Before they left they gave his brother Slater a chance to sniff him goodbye and or Tien to give him a kiss on the nose.

The vet told them what they already knew. There was nothing they could do. Bisket’s Mom and Dad were there to say goodbye. He was put on a fleecy through, a nice touch by the given the drugs, and awoke at the Bridge. And in their final act of devotion they brought him back home, to give him a forever resting place in the yard.

As a dog I would like to say to Bisket’s parent Miss Gretchen and Mr. Matt that they repaid all the love to Bisket he gave them. He went to the Bridge knowing he had done his job. I thank the two of you for that. You are great dog parents. if only there were as many great dog parents as there were great dogs then so many great dogs wouldn’t be suffering tonight.

The Case of the Ill Dumped Dump

Two days before Christmas Mommy and Daddy traveled to Mommy’s nephew Andrew’s and his wife’s Joyce’s house for a party they referred to Christmas Adam, because Andrew has a brother named Adam, and Adam comes before Eve. Studies show no one in the animal kingdom cares..

The party went on late into the night, according to the bursting clocks in both my bladder and Pocket’s. The next morning Daddy asked me for a consult.

This Andrew, who is a lawyer like me, needed advice in the specialty of dog law. He lives near a park where people walk their dogs. He doesn’t own a dog of his own, but he’s young, and we will forgive him for that. His beef is with dog owners in his neighborhood. Once a week he puts his trash out to be picked up. While he and his bride are at work the trash man comes and removes his trash, leaving his barrel on the sidewalk in front of his home. Before he can get home to retrieve his barrel someone walking back from the park disposes of their dog droppings in his barrel, his barrel of no fun.

Well, I was a little annoyed, because it was Christmas Eve, but once Daddy agreed to pay kibble and a half I cracked the books. The Massachusetts Pooper Scooper law (humans love laws that rhyme) states that the owner of the animal must dispose of the refuse in a proper receptacle. Twenty minutes later I found out what refuse meant and spent the next 20 minutes cursing humans for using fancy words for ordinary pooh.

Now for my human lawyer client’s issue. The humans who are taking their dogs for a walk are properly scooping their pooping. Their next task is to find a proper receptacle for the pooping. Unfortunately your open trash can does fit the term “proper receptacle.” In short you are up poops creek without a barrel.

You could pursue a civil case against the dump dumper but first you would need proof of who the poo belongs to. You couldt hide in the barrel, and, when the poo is dropped into the receptacle, pop out and yell “I love trash,” then inform the dumper that they are trespassing by poo and you reserve the right to file a civil action. Now there are downsides to this. When you pop out of the trash you don’t know who you’re coming out to, and if it’s an angry pitbull you’re on your own. And you do risk being correctly known to your neighbors as a poopy head,

You could also offer, every day, at the park, to give the dogs a free brush. After they brush you put a description on the dog and one of the hairs in a baggie. When the dump is dumped you send the hair and the dump to the lab, and when you get the tests back, you can identify, through DNA, the pooper, then pop up and yell Ja’accuse.

But even if you do this, if you bring the petty pooper into civil court, according to my research, ironically, the Judges ruling will be the same as the question that has launched you on this judicial journey: “Who give a sh*t?”

Driving Miss Pocket (and Aunt Foley too)

After years of begging and pleading I have finally received what I have asked for my whole life. No, not a live, pre-plucked chicken, but my own seat for the car.

It is a vision of beauty. It is a little box with a strap that hooks to the head rest in the back seat. It has Sherpa on the inside which is very nice to lie upon and keeps my butt warm. And it is high in the air so I can see out the front window, the back, and the sides too. It is like the Pope mobile.

I ride in it like a Queen, looking out the window and nodding to my peeps. I can also look out the front window and confirm what Mommy has said for years: Daddy is a terrible driver.

I got mine on a Friday. When we went to the spa on Saturday it was installed for me. Pocket didn’t have one yet (there was only one at the store) so she sat on Mommy’s lap, or more accurately, squirmed on Mommy’s lap.

After our spa treatment there was now a seat for Pocket too, just as high, but, in my opinion, not as comfortable. Daddy put us in our seats, hooked us in, and we headed for home.

Then Pocket jumped out. She didn’t get far. She ended up hanging off the seat like a baby strapped to a Mom’s torso (albeit with one with a single boxy boob.) Daddy had to pull over and put Pocket back in her seat. Daddy put her back in the seat. He tightened the strap to keep her from jumping out and we started of again.

And silly Pocket jumped out again. Bouncing off the side of the seat like a parachutist stuck in a tree. I had no patience with her. Does the Pope jump out of the Pope mobile? Does Batman jump out of the Bat mobile? No, they know a good thing when they see it but there’s Pocket swinging like an old woman’s pantaloons on the clothes line during a wind storm.

Daddy parked the car again. He tried to shorten strap on the seat but regardless of what he did it got longer. He put Pocket back inside and told her to stay. Pocket, she no knows what that word means. But she also doesn’t like hanging by a strap in a moving vehicle. So she stayed put, except for an occasional tremble.

Now Daddy says if he is taking Mommy somewhere but not going in with her, then we can go with him, and have more peeps tell us how cute we are. I am working on getting Pocket to sit in her seat and enjoy the ride, but she’s never happy unless she is in contact with a human so it might take her awhile to just sit down and enjoy her ride.

And, for more good news, we got new harnesses.

These are so nice. The front of them is soft and looks like a bandanna. The straps are thick so they hang off of us comfortably but we can’t slip out of them. Even though I am slightly smaller than Pocket I had a medium while she has a small. I am a medium because I have girth. I am not sure what girth is but I keep getting e-mails from a former DS member’s Mom which says that girth is quite important, and there are pills to enhance girth, so I am quite proud of my girth. I am positively girthy.

So Pocket and I are riding into 2012, styling and profiling. Catch us if you can.

Apollo, Ace, Napa, Shakira and Czar are our January 8, 2012 pups of the week

I know I spend a lot of blog space complaining about things in my little life. But occasionally I hear from a long absent pal and I realize I have very little to complain about.

I had not heard from my good friend Apollo Schulz in awhile, which is not an unusual situation, since we do tend to lose touch with our Bridge friends. All we want from these Angels is to watch over and protect their families and boy does Apollo have work to do now.

The suit of skin, bones and fur he wore here are buried under a rose bush in his Mom’s yard, and sometimes, when she is feeling blue, she goes there, to sit and talk to Apollo.

She talk about the baby of the family Czar who Apollo never met in this realm. Czar has been a terrific pup, but has a bit of the Foley in him. He is stubborn as a suit. But that keeps his Mom busy and her mind off of other more pressing things.

They talk about Napa. The last time I wrote about this pack was about him He had been attacked and badly injured at a dog park by malmannered dogs. Napa is better, except for a limp, and he has become Apollo’s Mom constant companion like Apollo had been.

Apollo and his Mom talk about what a good alpha dog Shakia has become. She is the protector of the family. She has become a Daddy dog as some girls do.

And they talk about the baby who was closest to Apollo, his little brother Ace who, at 12, is slowing down and likes lying in the sunshine which is a lot like me.

But the most important thing they talk about is there Mom’s health. Some of you may remember she has asthma, but now she has a new, and more serious problem. Apollo’s Mom had undergone a kidney transplant on January 5, with a kidney donated by her son. I know I don’t have to ask but to help Apollo’s Mom and their wonderful pack we are going to have to do some major praying, generate a lot of positive thoughts, and get the Bridge Angels like Apollo to keep an eye out or her.

So let’s start praying so Apollo’s Mom can return to Shakira, Ace, Napa and Czar and be with them for a good long time.

Don’t worry Apollo, your friends are with you.

Foley's Yak Attack

Sometime over the Christmas holidays I got a bad case of the bed yaks. I didn’t write about it because at Christmas there is a lot of other tunes to sing, and Hollywood is releasing their Oscar material, so I decided to wait until after the New Year when the spotlight can be shining where it belongs, on me.

As I was saying one night we were all snuggled in our bed. I was under the covers licking my paws ignoring my parents who were talking about The Bridge knows what when I felt food rising up from my stomach. I came out from under the covers took two steps then upchucked all over the blanket. Now this is a huge no no. You do not desecrate the bed. That is the number two rule of the bed. The number one rule is don’t talk about the bed.

I was picked up by Mommy and Daddy pulled the blanket off the bed and took it to the laundry room. Mommy held me and asked “are you all right?”

Now let me back up and explain that when Daddy went to the grocer they were out of treats. and he bought a different type of treats. They tasted like cardboard. Now sure. I ate them. I’m a dog. I eat poo. There isn’t much I turn down. But the cardboard made me sick which made me have the yaks.

If a human has another human over for dinner, they eat the shrimp scamp; and they run into the bathroom and upchuck it all, does the host run in the bathroom, take their head in their hands and ask “Are you all right?” The answer is “Hey lady I just upchucked all over your floor, you tell me.”

Daddy came back with the only other queen sized blanket in the house (which is the only one I will sleep under.) I hacked up some more of those horrible treats on the floor and Mommy cleaned it. They put a new blanket on the bed and put me on it. Now, if a human has just womited twice in five minutes, would you lay them down upon your only blanket? Make them comfy in your bed? Well, if the bipeds are going to be stupid I am going to let nature take it’s course.

I went back under the new blanket, licked my paw, felt the bad biscuit coming back up and made it three steps before I womited on the only clean blanket. Mommy made a tisking sound. Daddy pulled up the blanket and brought that to wash too. Then he panicked. He kept rubbing my head and asking me what was wrong. Hey look buddy, if you did this to a female dinner guest it would be sexual harassment. so watch it.

Then Daddy got two smaller blankets and put them on the bed, and then put towels over them in case I yakked again, so there we were, in bed with a crazy quilt of blankets over us, sleeping like hobos. Pocket, who has sense, didn’t want to be anywhere near me and sat on Daddy’s chest. After about five minutes I felt more of the bad cookies coming up. This time I jumped off the bed before I yakked.

This is when Daddy had the great brain storm of taking me outside. Now, if you have a human in your house who has yakked a half dozen times do you put a rope around their neck and walk them up and down the street in the dark and the cold?

If you do you are going to be taken to the cukoo house or be charged with cruelty to womiters. Strangely enough, after the work, I felt fine, and we all snuggled together under our make shift blankets like the homeless on a freight train. Once my sick stomach was cleaned out I was fine. Some time during the night one of the Bridge angels must have come to Mommy or Daddy and informed them it was the cheap treats. Mommy threw them out in the morning and forbid Daddy to buy them again.

The point of this blog is for humans to treat us dogs like human friends. Don’t assume we only have one yak in us, and start looking for the reason the the most likely point, crappy treats.

And, if you do have a yakky human, put a rope around their neck and take them for a walk. Worked for me.

January 1, 2012 Pups of the Week - In Memorium

Baron aka Bear:

The first friend we lost this year was one of our biggest and most kind hearted. He was our Bear Bear. He had fought so hard to stay with his Mom. But his temperature shot up to 104 and his breathing became labored. He had pneumonia which is a very scary diagnosis for an older dog. He got some medicine but he did not improve and he went to the bridge. Baron was a fiercely loyal GSD. He was his Mom’s heart dog. Loved and respected by those who knew him both on line and in real life his passing to Bridge was felt by all those who loved him. There will be plenty of Bears in the future, but none as powerful, proud, beautiful, and loyal than Bear Bear.

Jackie Pool

The dog community lost a giant when Jackie Pool succumbed to cancer on February 13, 2011. A warrior who fought to free dogs from puppy mills, who fought to find them homes, she was a model for dog lovers everywhere. The year before she passed her pup Saffron had to fight for his life and Jackie did everything in her power, spent many sleepless nights, with her sweet boy, so he survived. She was a fountain of information about dog health and helped anyone who had a question. A beautiful woman and a tremondous spirit her name, and the kindness she showed dogs, will live forever.

Bo

We are all Mama’s dogs but occasionally there is a Daddy’s dog and Bo was the ultimate Daddy dog. He was with his Daddy before he met his future wife and her pack. I don’t think there is a stronger bond than that between a dog and a man who live alone. When Bo had growths on his body and his breathing suddenly became labored his parents prayed for the best, but the worst happened, and happened very quickly, leaving them in shock. But just before he passed Bo brought his family his final gift, a new dog, Nikki, a stray who somehow wanded into their lives. Bo left his family with a great gift, and a wonderful new friend.

The Malatesta Six

If there was a top story in the online world occupied by dogs and their families it was the tragic death of the Malatesta Six. By name Chiwennie, Charlie Bear, Yacotaco, Gravy, Walker and Paula Malatesta’s heart dog, Brandon, they, while Paula lay in thie hospital, were, without her knowledge, taken to and pound, and put to sleep. While no good can ever come of such a tragedy, all we can do is try to understand want happened, and try to insure it never happens again. The online dog community showed, when something occurs that touches the better angels of our nature, just what a powerful group we can be, and how we can reach down to someone who is truly in the bowls of hell, and give them hope once again. And it made many of us realize that we must have provision in our wills, or proxies filed with lawyers, to protect these sweet pups if we are incapcatated. While we can never make sense of what happened, we can deal with it sensibly, and try to make a better world.

Ruger Ru

We started the Tanner Brigade on the morning after Tanner died. A few months later Tanner’s Mom bought a new dog, Ruger Ru, and Ruger was the symbol of a new beginning for every member. We were with him every step as he grew from a minature version of Tanner into a big, couch eating, hole digging, squirrel chasing, big ball of fun. It was a shock when we learned that Ruger too sick suddenly, and then the next day he was gone. To lose any dog is horrible, to lose one when he is still just a baby, is unbearable. Our hearts are still broken.

Snicker Doodle

A beautiful little dog down in Arizona who lived to be 16, Snicker suffered through the long hot summer with breathing problems and heat stroke. There were many a night his Mom sat up with him trying to cool him off. Then, with the weather finally cooled, in one of the cruelest twists, Snicker’s little heart began to give out and she passed away before Halloween. A sweet dog, always with a kind smile, a kind word, she left her poor Mom heartbroken. Snicker was the type of dog we would all like to be.

Doxie

Even older than Snicker, Doxie spent 18 years with his Mom, being her heart dog every single day. Doxie had many illnesses at the end of his life, but he clung on to his Mom, and this life, for as long as he could. Doxie and his struggles were a big part of our lives since we began doing social networking with pups. He always seemed to be a loving spirit who would be here forever. And in a lot of ways, he is.

Fuzzy Bacon

Fuzzy was lucky enough to be adopted into the Gustavon clan, along with 12, Chappy and Whiskey. Unfortunately Fuzzy had aggression issues and despite months of classes and training with the family, the evils in his past could not be overcome by love. Fuzzy had to be put down for being ovelry aggressive after he attacked another of their dogs and their Dad. If the Gustavons could not train and love the aggression out of Fuzzy no one could. But the Gustavons have not stopped taking in dogs who need a new home, as they have a new rescue, Blue, living with them

We remember all these blogs, and send love out to their families. They, in their own way, made the world a better place, and they all will be missed. May they run free at the bridge.