Ask Aunt Foley in 3D

Dear Aunt Foley: I know you normally don’t answer humans’ questions but I need your help. I was a happily confirmed bachelor. I played trumpet in a band and I enjoyed bowling. Then I met a wonderful woman and her cute dog and I fell in love. I soon asked her to be my wife. Everything was wonderful. I even taught her how to bowl. She did OK her first couple of times, but now she has beaten me three times in a row. Now Foley, I love my fiancee and her dog but I was very proud of my bowling. What should I do?
Romey’s Dad

Dear Romey’s Dad: I had to do some research on human relations and I have found out your problem. Your bowling is off because your ball is larger than it was before you became engaged. I read in the New England Journal of Medicine that once a man puts a ring on it shared recreational activity slows down and a man’s balls grow larger. After he has been married a few years it may get better because according to my research “after several years of marriage men’s balls are the size of bowling balls.” That should return your game to normal. But if his bowling ball suddenly turns blue, he needs to consult a dogtor.

Dear Aunt Foley: I am a very young pup. Recently I lost some teeth. I am concerned about this because I like my teeth. I use them for chewing food and chewing food is my favorite thing to do. Should I be worried about the lost teeth?
Dexter

Dear Dexter: When you are a young pup and you lose your teeth they grow back. If you are an older pup like me they don’t grow back when you lose them. But when they snip your goodies, those never grow back, so it you still have them then treasure them, treasure them like there is no tomorrow.

Dear Aunt Foley: Honestly, I thought Mommy and I were playing a game. I would get in the tub, she would lather me up, and then I would jump out and run around the house getting everything wet. She would run after me yelling. Oh the good times we had. Well apparently I was wrong. Mommy didn’t see it as a game at all. And now she has told Daddy that he has to take me out of the house to get a bath. In public! It’s like I will have to wear a giant bandana with B embroided on it for bath. What can I do?
Koda

Dear Koda: Oh how I envy you. I am too small to get out of the tub. But it sounds like a fun game. I wish I could do it. But your Mommy is acting like a wet rag. But don’t worry. You have an ally. Your Daddy. Just convince him to do what most men do best: do everything wrong. Don’t have him rinse you off your dry you. Have him put you in Mommy’s seat in the car and get it all wet and dog smelling. After this happens a few times your Mommy will get mad at him and decide she needs to do it herself. And you’ll be back in the tub.

Is Foley a Dumba? A Foley and Pocket Text Conversation

Pocket: Foley, I talked with Mommy and there is something we need to discuss.

Foley: I have told you to stop texting me.

Pocket: I know but I am afraid if I have this conversation with you in person you will nip me.

Foley: Well hurry up. I am in the middle of a game of Paws With Words with Logan.

Pocket: Mommy, Daddy and I think you have become a Dumba.

Foley: Are you calling me dumb?

Pocket: No. You know what a Rumba is?

Foley: It’s one of those freaky little spaceships things that clean the floor.

Pocket: Well Mommy and me think you’re the dog version of that.

Foley: What is the supposed to mean?

Pocket: Because you spend half the night licking the floors.

Foley: Oh that is not true.

Pocket: It is Foley. You have a lick addiction.

Foley: I do not!

Pocket: After we go out for our 9:00 PM pee you begin to lick the entire house. You start on the kitchen floor, then you move to the living room rug and hardwood floor.

Foley: Oh that is an exaggeration.

Pocket: It is not, you’re a serial licker. You lick here, you lick there, once I caught you licking Daddy’s underwear.

Foley: Oh well you lick your own butt.

Pocket: Oh so do you. Licking our butt is what separates us from the lower species.
Foley: That and the lower species pick up our crap and give us room and board for free.

Pocket: Don’t change the subject. We need to get back to your serial licker.

Foley: I do it to help Mommy clean the floors.

Pocket: Aha! Then you are a Dumba. And Mommy does not need help cleaning the floors. Her floors are so clean you can eat of them.

Foley: Well we do.

Pocket: True. But Mommy and I are concerned about your licking.

Foley: I like to lick. I like the taste of things. Sometimes you find little crumbs of food.

Pocket: Dumba! You’re a Dumba!

Foley: I am not dignifying this any more. I am powering down. Oh, and Pocket go lick yourself.

Pocket: At least I’m not licking the bathroom floor.

Foley: Sicko!

Pocket: Sicki!

Note: If you know any dogs who are Dumbas like Foley please have them contact 1-800-DUMBAS. There are Dumba support groups going on around the country. Remember the motto for Dumba Anonymous. Dog’s tongues are to clean our anuses, not our floors.

Per Hattie Mae, We are the March 25, 2012 Pup of the Week

Usually we do not take any outside suggestions for Pup of the Week. But this week Hattie Mae sent us this suggestion, and when it is Hattie Mae, well, you have to give in to her or your will get a nasty nip in the butt. So here is what Hattie Mae sent us. Although we don't feel we are worthy here is Hattie's Mae blogging on why we should be Pups of the Week

By Hattie Mae:

We all tend to take things, or furiends, for granted. Never giving a second thought to efforts and time devoted to making sure we all feel safe, happy and loved.

When things got crazy over at that other realm, some of us fled, others were tossed out of the gates without so much as a tribunal to hear their case. We were lost and missing our true furiends. We wandered the streets, confused, hungry and lonely.

Little did we know that two small, but powerful forces, were at work finding a safe house for us. Foley and Pocket. They sniffed around and found just the spot. The rent was cheap, the neighborhood was safe and it came with a great security system. The tiny gals, rolled up their sleeves and gave the place a good cleaning, hung some frilly curtains, got some modest furnishings from the Goodwill. Soon they got the word out to the outcasts that there was a safe haven for them to come to.

One by one we began to come. We felt safe. We could trust again. We urged our furiends to come and they did. They told 2 furiends, who in turn they told 2 furiends and so the community grew.

As we approach the Three Year Anniversary of the Tanner Brigade (May) I want to be sure that we all take a moment and thank Foley and Pocket for giving us a small slice of heaven. No matter what is going on in their lives they continue to make sure we are comfortable and happy.

So we, the members of the Tanner Brigade want to acknowledge Foley and Pocket as our Pup(s) of the week!

Grandpaw in need of prayers

Our grandpaw, our Daddy’s Daddy, the man who purchased Daddy’s first dog, Barney, whose diary we sometimes read from (a diary is what dogs wrote in before the Big Giant Dog created the blog), and who has come over every Tuesday for dinner, providing the basis for my book “Tuesdays with Edgar” (my grandpaw, for those who have not read the story before, is responsible for Daddy having the name Edgar, because, while Daddy’s Mommy was being wheeled away to have her litter, his Daddy yelled to her to name him “anything but Edgar” and, because of a squeaky wheel, all she heard was Edgar) is in the hospital and we don’t know when he’ll be released and give me my next chapter of my Tuesdays book.

I should point out that the recent circumstances surrounding his medical condition has caused me, personally, lap time, and, even worse, bed snuggle time, as my pawrents have spent long nights at the hospital, not returning home until the high numbers of the single digits. But since Mommy and Daddy both love him, I can’t begrudge them their time with him, although I have kept track of bed time owed, and will collect.

It began one afternoon when Granpaw called with back pain. I was put on my blanket and Pocket shoved in her crate. Our pawrents were away for a long time. I kept checking my watch and getting angrier. When they came home they told me about Grandpaw. He had a kidney stone. Ouch. I forgave them for being late.

He was in the hospital for two days, went home, and two nights after that we were placed and shoved again, because Grandpaw could not pee. They ended up doing the equivalent of the thermometer up the butt to us, but it wasn’t his butt, and during insertion, the Nurse said “oops” and ran out of the room to get another nurse.

He had the stone out and that night he spent with us which iwas cool because we love having guests sleep over. He slept in the bed we have for our grand girl babies with the Princess sheets so the emasculation he received from the tube up the yoohoo continued. Pocket wanted to sleep with him but Grandpaw had never slept with a pup before, some humans never truly learn the pleasures of life.

Grandpaw went home but a few days later Daddy had to leave when Grandpaw fell down. He didn’t have to go to the hospital then, but the next day he went to get the emasculator pulled out. He had to wait a long, long time. The nurse finally came in and said they had to fill his bladder by pouring water the wrong way down the tube. She then left the room and the water poured right back out. The nurse came back in, ripped out the catheter, and had him stand, which is hard for him, with his pants around his ankles and a cup in his hand, for 15 minutes seeing if he could pee. He kept asking to see the doctor but he was torturing new people. Finally they let him leave when Daddy got mad. We don’t want to say the name of the doctor. That wouldn’t be right. Especially when all you have to do is provide a link HERE

Since that day Grandpaw kept getting worse. His feet became more and more swollen. His belly and thighs became swollen too. He had terrible, crippling, back pain. When Daddy took him to his primary doctor after lots of tests the doctor told him he didn’t know what was wrong. Mommy and Daddy, and Grandpaw, asked for Grandpaw to be admitted but his doctor said no. So they brought the poor man back to his house.

Daddy checked with him in the morning. He said he was having more trouble moving but was determined to get through the day. That night Daddy had his Fantasy Baseball Draft. The only fantasy is that Daddy is ever going to win money. Anyway at the start of the draft Grandpaw fell down in his house. He landed face first in his chair, next to the phone and was able to call for help. Auntie went with him to the hospital. Daddy stayed at his draft, texting and drafting, which may explain why he has three quarters of the Yankee infield.

Grandpaws’ prognosis is not great. He has an aortic aneurysm. He also is in the beginning stages of heart failure. They have been able to remove a lot of fluid from his legs, close to 20 pounds of it. But his legs are damaged so he is going to have to go to a nursing home for rehabilitation. Like many of our pawrents’ pawrents this is their biggest fear. Like our fear of something happening to our pawrents and us being left at the pound.

So we are asking our puppy friends for prayers, because no prayers are better than puppy prayers. Pray that Grandpaw is able to get up and around and is able to come to our house again so I can finish my Tuesday with Edagr blog.

It would be greatly appreciated.

The Doggyspace Drinking Game

Our blogs is growing in popularity but Pocket, my marketing representative ,has told me that we are not attracting the all important 18-24 group. Pocket has done intensive research on this group and she has found they are interested in two activities: Getting drunk and falling down. To capture this all important group we introduce the Tanner Brigade Drinking Game. For the uninitiated a drinking game is when you take a drink when something happens during a movie. For example in Marley and Me you drink whenever someone says Marly.

In the Doggyspace Drinking Game you take a drink when the following happens:

When Tommy Tunes does a wonderful portrait of a pup: Take a drink.

When you get something wonderful from Hannah Banana: Take a drink.and buy one for her.

When Lil Guy posts and adorable picture: Take a drink and post a picture of you doing it.

When the Min Pin Gang post a blog about their conversation with the owners about getting the new server working: Take a drink.while you are waiting for it to load.

When Anna Nicole dresses up pretty:: Take a drink.and wolf whistle.

When Keri’s Kookies sends you some cookies: Take a drink.then send Keri one

When Pokey and Maggie’s Mom needs an operation on an appendage: Take a drink.

When Baarney or Cali take a drink: Take a drink and buy one for Baarnry and CaIi.

When Pocket drinks and pees on the floor: Take a drink and pee on the floor.

When Czar eats the cone of shame: Take a drink and bless ingenuity.

When the Matesta Pack saves another dog: Take a drink.and toast them.

When Fonzie Tuxedo saves a soul: Take a drink and praise the Lord.

When Wishbone reminds us all why we rescue dogs Take a drink buy one for all the dogs in shelters.

When the Killer K-9’s whack a mole: Take a drink and hide under the bed.

When Hans gets another good report from the doctor: Take a drink and celebrate/

When a friend sends you a gift: Take a drink and send one back

When Leo leave a George Clooney quality picture on the photo page: Take a drink and sigh (girls only)

When Mollie finds a new spot in the sun room: Take a drink and fall down in the sun.

When Pintus and Rain survive and earthquake: Take a drink and pray.

When Crystal wins a fashion show and goes on a dog walk: Take a drink and dress up.

The Tanner Brigade Drinking Game

Our blogs is growing in popularity but Pocket, my marketing representative ,has told me that we are not attracting the all important 18-24 group. Pocket has done intensive research on this group and she has found they are interested in two activities: Getting drunk and falling down. To capture this all important group we introduce the Tanner Brigade Drinking Game. For the uninitiated a drinking game is when you take a drink when something happens during a movie. For example in Marley and Me you drink whenever someone says Marly.

In the Tanner Brigade Drinking Game you take a drink when the following happens:

When Hattie Mae poses in a new fashion: Take a drink.

When Hobo Hudson has problems with his work force: Take a drink.

When Sandy, Nikki and Maggie get visited by their neighboring dog: Take a drink.

When Romey’s Mom beats his Dad at bowling: Take a drink.

When Copernicus gets to go somewhere none of us would be allowed: Take a drink.

When Molly Mayhem runs away or destroys a piece of furniture: Take a drink.

When Pokey and Maggie’s Mom needs an operation on an appendage: Take a drink.

When Baarney or Cali take a drink: Take a drink and buy one for Baarny and CaIi.

When Pocket drinks and pees on the floor: Take a drink and pee on the floor.

When Lou ee posts a funny picture of video: Take a drink and eat popcorn.

When Lily, Moe, Scooter, Jack, Jill or Clementine and the Girls wear a hat: Take a drink.

When Chelsea complains about Ashton: Take a drink and kiss a sibling.

When Chappy performs a command on cue: Take a drink and sit.

When Brody steals food from Blake: Take a drink and have a Cheerio.

When Blazer brings great food to a party: Take a drink and dive into the food.

When Smoochy balls change color: Take a drink and after four hours call your Doctor.

When Shiloh goes to Sonic: Take a drink and have a burger.

When Shiloh’s Space suggests a nice idea for another dog: Take a drink and look to the stars.

When Koli and Feli leave us a confusing clue: Take a drink it might help.

When sweet Shadow goes on a car ride: Take a drink but don’t drive.

When Lilykins leaves a funny comment: Take a drink. The more you drink the funnier her comments are.

When Zoe Boe does a Hump Day Funny: Send her a drink because we need more Hump Day funnies.

When Benjamin and Butkus tussle: Take a drink then call 911.

When Reba, Dodger and Logan’s Mom runs a mile: Take a drink and rest.

When Leo leave a George Clooney quality picture on the photo page: Take a drink and sigh (girls only)

When Mollie finds a new spot in the sun room: Take a drink and fall down in the sun.

When Paco has no idea what reference I have made: Take a drink and pretend you know what I’m talking about.

When Pintus and Rain survive and earthquake: Take a drink and pray.

When Crystal wins a fashion show and goes on a dog walk: Take a drink and dress up.

When Scooter and Molly speak to their Mom through a puppy communicator have them ask for drinks for all of us.

Leo is our March 18, 2012 Pup of the Week

One of the reasons I ran up to my Mom and picked her out to be my human is that I knew she was going to need a lot of comfort and nursing in the coming years. I was right, of course. Two knee replacements, foot surgery, wrist surgery, and breast cancer. At times I thought I had bit of more than I could chew, but no, I chewed it up just fine, and took excellent care of my Mom, nursing her to health each time.

When she had physical therapy Pocket and I jumped right in to help. She had to do several leg lifting exercises and I was right there on her thigh to add resistance. When she had to hold her leg up in the air for a certain amount of time Pocket would slip under it to make sure she got some extra torture.

Recently I got contacted by one of my favorite boys: Leo. He told me his Mom has some nasty shoulder problems. This has been going on for awhile. She had all sorts of scans and tests. Finally they told her that she had a frozen shoulder. Oh boy. I love frozen shoulder. You lick it, and lick it, until you get to the meat, and then it’s good eating. But apparently it’s not that kind of frozen shoulder. I suggested Leo lie on the shoulder and use all that Chow heat to warm it up but he said when he climbed on her shoulder she yelped in pain. I don’t know what to do now. Wait for summer?

She also has a HAGL tear. Now this made me angry because every time I play Words With Paws and try to use HAGL I am told it is not a word. So I doubt this doctor’s diagnosis but Leo swears it’s proper. The doctor can operate on the shoulder but he wants to wait until the frozen shoulder melts. So the doctor, Leo, and his Mom, are like dogs with a Frosty Paw. We have to wait until it becomes unfrozen before we can enjoy it.

What Leo’s Mom has to do is improve the range of motion in her shoulder. I have told Leo he should be in charge of his Mom’s physical therapy. What better way to increase the range of motion than to play fetch with a pup? His Mom could also build up strength in the shoulder by playing tug of war with Leo. Walks are also excellent physical therapy. Not the walking part, but where Leo chases every butterfly, squirrel, or napkin he sees. The jerking of her shoulder back and forth should loosen everything up nicely.

I am hoping Leo helps his Mom get better soon. She has done so many wonderful paintings for us, and for our friends, that for her not be able to have an outlet for her work has to be very frustrating, and that frozen shoulder is keeping our beauty from being captured for posterity. So I am asking you to pray that Leo’s Mom’s shoulder problems are over soon and she can go back to a normal life and doing her wonderful art work.

Out of the great respect for Leo and his Mom I am starting a new group called Medical Dogtors for all us dogs who take care of, nurse, and help with physical therapy with our Moms. And if our Moms want to go there to complain about their ailments and see if other Moms are going through the same thing, or have gone through it, we will let them. And don’t forget to leave a kind word for handsome Leo and his Mom.

For Tommy Tunes

I’m writing this blog ‘cause it fits in well
With the thoughts I’m having
I can’t pretend there’s not love here
In these things I’m saying

But I love Tunes
Tommy Tunes
I love Tunes
And if you know Tunes
You’d love him too
You’d love him too
You’d love him too

I never get tired of having to say
"Thank you so much Tommy"
When I look into his eyes I see all the love
And the friendship he offers

But I love Tunes
Tommy Tunes
I love Tunes
And if you know Tunes
You love him too (love him too)
You love him too (love him too)
You love him too (love him too)
You love him too

I’ve got a lot of pictures on my wall
All of them created by Tommy and Dad
I have a brand new one to unfurl
Loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl
(Loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl)
Loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl
(Loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl)
Yeah, loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl
(Loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl)

I’m writing this blog ‘cause it fits in well
With the thoughts I’m having
There's a symphony I feel in my heart
With each of his blog I’m reading

But I love Tunes
Tommy Tunes
I love Tunes
And if you know Tunes
You’d love him too (love him too)
You love him too (love him too)
You love him too (love him too)
You love him too

Tommy, with you
Tommy, with you
Tommy, with you
Tommy, with you
Tommy, with you

I’ve got a lot of pictures on my wall
All of them created by Tommy and Dad
I have a brand new one to unfurl
Loving T Tunes, his Dad and Freddie Girl

Foley calls for a beach for dogs

This strangely warm (for us in the Northeast) winter is coming to an end and a young dog’s heart turns to thoughts of the summer. Lying in the warm sun. Chasing those pesky tree rats. Chasing waves at the beach.

Oh wait, strike that last one. No chasing waves at the beach. As soon as the temperature rises and humans begin flocking to the beach like lemmings signs get pounded into the sand that say no dogs allowed.

Why are we banned from the beaches? Are we going to ugly up the beach? Have you seen some of the ugly on the beach?

Now how can we be worse for the beach than that? And when did this ban begin? We have evidence of dogs being allowed on beaches in in 70’s. In one of my parents favorite movies, Jaws, there is a dog on the beach with the humans. The dog’s name is Pippet. He gets eaten by a shark while fetching a stick. That is why I prefer the Godfather. Lots of dead humans, no dead dogs.

The fear, of course, is the we will leave waste product on the beach. But, in an online poll conducted by Pocket the census taker we determined that 85% of humans void in the water so what’s a little dog voiding going to hurt?

Plus we know what to do at the beach. Humans? You lie there in the sun doing nothing. Maybe hit a ball with your fists over a net, big whoop. But us dogs? We chase waves. That’s the coolest thing to do. Or we run up and down the beach feeling the soft, cool sand on our piggy toes. Or we sneak behind drunk frat boys and eat their hamburgers. No one has a better time at beaches than dogs (unless we get eaten by a shark. But that was totally the fault of the guy throwing the stick. He overthrew Pippet like Tom Brady over throwing Wes Welker.)

But, before you humans get your pitchforks and torches to change the tyrant’s odious rules let me speak for dog kind. We don’t want your stinking beaches. We want our own beaches. We have our own parks, why can’t we have our on beaches? You may not want dog Vick on your beaches but we do not want this on our beach.

(A note from Pocket Dog: Blog Editor and Chief: OK, obviously Foley has completely run out of ideas and has written this blog just to post pictures of fat people at the beach. I would like to apologize to all our loyal readers who depend on this site for first rate dog humor. I promise this will not occur again on my watch. After writing this note I will delete her next blog: Golfing on Uranus. You know you laughed.)

So humans, go get your pitch forks and torches and go see the One Percent and demand that we get a doggy beach. Then, when we win, we’ll see you this summer. “We’ll bring the wieners.

Hattie Mae is our March 11, 2012 pup of the week with special mentions for Hans and Remington

I hope you know that Pocket and I love you all equally. But, as in all packs, pups become closer to some pups than others. Among those we are closest to is Hattie Mae. I think all pups would agree they are closest to Hattie Mae too. I know each of us is special and unique in our own way but I don’t think there is either a more special or unique dog than our Hattie Mae. There are hundreds of ways she makes us smile, through her warm heart, her wonderful style, her sly sense of humor. Hattie Mae makes us all want to be better dogs.

So today, when we wandered into the Brigade and found out she was sick it was a cold slap to our muzzle. Hattie Mae sick? Oh my gosh, this cant be happening. She is the glue that holds us all together.

We think of Hattie as our diva but she is a Jack Russell at heart. And Jack Russells need to play. Yesterday she had her big friend Taylor and they played until she was exhausted. But after playing Hattie womited, and then she cried out in pain whenever she moved.

She went to her comfy spot and laid down. When her parents went to check on her she nipped them both protecting her hurting little body. Her parents knew they needed to take her to the emergency vet. But first they had to muzzle our poor baby. A Hattie Mae should never be muzzled.

In the vet’s waiting room she shook and cried in pain. In the vet’s office she was just chilling. Perfectly fine. Nothing to see here. Move along. The doctor suggested she go back to her regular not triple overtime doctor on Monday then asked her parents to pay the triple overtime bill.

When they got back in the car Hattie began crying in pain again. Well sometimes a girls needs to play hard to fix. She is resting today, and still crying in pain, while her worried friends gather and fret. We are sending major prayers and good JuJu out to our special friend. We pray also that she know how much we love her. Get better real soon Hattie.

While we are on the subject of good friends who need some prayers I would like to include my good friend Hans. He is a buddy from Doggyspace. He has been very sick lately. He has a growth and the dogtors have not been able to determine if it is an ulcer or a tumor. He has also had bleeding from an unknown. Last night he was falling a lot and his blood count is low. This has been very hard on his mother Miss Heather.

But she still found time to start on a new Doggyspace Group on Facebook. She thought it was a quicker way for everyone to keep in touch. If you are on Facebook and want to be on the Doggyspace group send me a message and we’ll make it happen. Mommy has agreed to help as an administrator. Don't worry. I will watch over her.

Finally there is my friend Remington from the Blog World. His wonderful blog can be read here.

He took very sick this week. He too was womiting. And when he womits it's the size of Pocket. He scared his poor Mom. But thankfully the vets prescribed medicine, and he is now healthy and happy.

Let's all get together and pray that the same good results happen for Hattie Mae and for Hans. We love you all.

Foley, Pocket and their friend Brody discuss the best spot to get table scraps

 
Foley Monster:  On Saturday night we had our sister Kim and our brother Chad with their children, ages 11. 6 and 10 months to our house to eat.  When you have a large group of guests, especially when they are young, and food is served, it is guaranteed that food will fall to the floor.  Now, when you’re a single dog, you can just lazily scan the perimeter licking droppings.  But when there are more than one dog you need to stake your claim to an area under the table and protect it.  Pocket and I have different strategies to getting the most food.  

Pocket:  My plan is simple.  Find the youngest member of the party and park my booty under their chair.  The younger the better.  On this night it would be Calvin, our ten month old nephew.  Young children are like dogs.  They don’t want something on their plate, they just nose it off, or use their paws, whatever is most useful.  Nobody can make it rain like a baby.  Sometimes you can’t even keep it up.  Under the baby is the place to be.

Foley Monster:  I certainly agree that babies are careless with their food.  But I take a different tact.  I get under the child who is the most active.  Every family has that one child who can never stay in their seat.  When they move they knock food off their plate or carry good and drop it.  Plus anything in their lap lands on the ground.  And they are the most likely to leave food unattended.  They may be underrated by there is good eating there.

Pocket:  This is foolishness.  It has to be the baby.  I can’t advise our friends to sit under an active child only to find out they took their Ritalin.  There are no pills for babies.  They are like a slot machine that always pays off.  Got to be the baby.  


Foley Monster:  If you are a lazy pup I suppose you could sit under the baby but an active child helps us soothe our need to hunt and gather.   You can’t just sit there and hope food falls from the sky, you need to hunt it down and gather it up.  

Pocket:  I am going to defer to our good friend Brody for help.  He lives with a toddler and baby.  He is living the dream.

Brody:   BEFORE I was banished to the crate during mealtimes, I would park my butt right by the toddler's chair. He was always tossing things to me, dropping things, etc.... With the baby, all you get is spit up, which, yes, I like (I warned you)....But I would definitely say,  park by the child who is  A) Eating solid foods    B) A bit clumsy or uncoordinated   C) Or the kid who has learned it is fun to sneak the doggy food   ;)   It's also a great thing when they let me out and i can help "clean" up the table's edge, the crumbs in the kids booster seat, and under his chair.  I have also trained my kid to pass me snacks through the bars of my crate, and he has on occasion hidden snacks in his toys in the living room for me to find later, I am sure.


Foley Monster:  Well, those are helpful hints.  I would say that he sides with me when he suggests we sit under the child who is the most clumsy.  Uncoordinated goes alone with active.

Pocket:  Sides with you?  What are you hard of reading?  Brody says a toddler.  He agrees with me.  Park under the toddler.  Clear as day.

Foley Monster:  We need one of those kind hearted kids who think it’s fun to slip dogs food.

Pocket:  I know, where do we get one of those, Craig’s list?


Foley Monster:  How about old people?  Do you get food from them?

Pocket:  I find they tend to lose entire slabs of meat but it is hard to run of with entire pieces of meat.  Plus I have been kicked from leg tremors.

Foley Monster:  I think we should stick with adolescents.  

Pocket:  Unless Mommy and Daddy start drinking again.

Foley Monster:  I know, some pups have all the luck..

A scared, wet black dog is our March 4, 2012 Pup of the Week

We are here to honor a wet, scared dog who lives next door to our friends Sandy, Maggie and Nikki and their wonderful parents.

On Friday their home got attacked by the weather demons.  Rain fell in vicious, skin cutting sheets.  Lightning lit up the sky so constantly a minor league baseball game could have been played without a single light bulb..  The wind howled with such intensity that earth bound squirrels took flight.  Hail slammed to the ground like Angry Birds gone mad.  The moon held water and the clouds swirled towards the ground looking to create a destructive path unconcerned with life, limb or property.  The only thing pups and parents could do was to get to the low ground and pray.  Sandy, Maggie, Nikki and their parents were doing exactly that when they noticed their neighbors, who live in a camper, hightailing it out of their wheeled abode.  Then they noticed the fleeing family’s pup abandoned, chasing them down the road.

The poor pup almost gets clipped by other drivers searching for higher ground.  Our terrific trio of pups’ Dad tried to cal the scared dog,, who had retreated to his yard, separated from their yard by a fence.  The scared dog would come to the edge of the fence, peer around, then retreat when brave Daddy took a step towards him.   Then ferocious Mom went out, into the storm.  She sat in the driveway, sweetly calling the scared dog, trying to get him to shelter.   Finally, he recognized what a sweet Mommy was like, and he came around the fence to her.  The scared, wet dog came to the brave, wet woman, and sat between her legs.  Her gave her sweet kisses than laid on his back on the wet driveway to be rubbed.  Once she gained the scared dog’s confidence she put food and water under the porch where she knew he would be safe and the dog climbed underneath happily.

Nikki, Sandy, and Maggie were very proud of their Mom, even though, before this incident, they had sent mutual snaps and growls across the fence.  And everyone knew Angel Bo had been next to the scared dog, softly whispering in its ear, saying it was safe, go to her.  Thankfully everyone was safe from the terrible storm.

When his humans returned the dog went back to his family.   The next day the Mom of Nikki, Sandy and Maggie, now known as Lea, Warrior Princess, went over to confront the owners who left their dog behind.  The dog’s human said that he was more interested in saving his family not his dog.  Lea, Warrior Princess told them that was a terrible attitude.  It then devolved into an argument about if the frightened pup comes into their yard too often starting problems with Nikki, Sandy and Maggie.  The scared pup’s Daddy said “so what if he does?”

We are surrounded by so many great pup owners we forget how many terrible ones there are.  There have been several humans who feel they should rescue this dog from his terrible owners, but these are his humans, and we are dogs, and while we may be mistreated, we still love our humans, because that’s why we’re here.

I do know a little bit about what this dog went through.  Sometimes my Mommy rolls over and takes most of the blankets.  Pocket tells me it’s not the same thing. *Shrugs*  But no matter her blanket hogging tendencies I still love my Mom.  

So this is to Nikki, Maggie, Sandy, Angel Bo and one wet lonely dog.  And to Aunt Lea, Warrior Princes.  You did all Moms proud.

Best in show? I say no

Pocket and I have watched the Westminster Kennel Club Dog show over and over and we have to tell you, we don’t get it.  When they line up those dogs for best in breed every dog looks exactly the same.  Where do we celebrate our individuality?

Pocket and I are in the Toy Group.  We are not happy about this.  We are not toys.  We are street smart, tough, small dogs.    If you pick us up do we squeak?  Well, OK, we do, but that is besides the point.  Do children fall in love with us instantly and want to play with us?  OK, that’s another yes.  When we sit very still in the window do people mistake us for fluffy toys?  Well, yes, true.  Maybe you can change it to the Rugged Toy Group.

Here are the breed characteristics for us Yorkies”

Overall
To be best in show I would have to have long hair.  Sorry Ringo.  This isn’t for me.  I don’t want to get my long snarls brushed every day.  And gosh knows what I would pick up on my walk.  And when I vick, how do I keep the hair out?   Do I have to walk on my front legs.  The whole long hair thing seems like a bad idea to me.  I don’t know why short haired Yorkies can’t be considered.  Personally I think both Pocket and I are beautiful dogs with short hair.  It says we should hold ourhead high and have an appearance of self-importance.  I think I have that one under control.  


Head
My head is supposed to be flat on top.  I don’t know what that means.  Am I supposed to walk around with a book on my head?   When I am at the groomers, and I bark that a dog is a flat head, it’s not a compliment.  My teeth are a problem, I’m missing a few.  Plus I have an over bite.  It is actually one of my best features because it makes my tongue stick out.   I don’t know how Pocket’s bite is except it hurt likes heck.  The nose needs to be black.  What other color could it be?  Well it could be brown because we have either eaten something we shouldn’t or really want Mom to like us.  Our eyes need to be sparkling with a sharp intelligent expression.  I think we have nice eyes.  But does it mean anything if our blog is sparkling with sharp intelligent expression  Also out eyes should be carried erect.  But if your eyes stay erect for more than four hours call your vet.

Body
Our bodies are supposed to be well proportioned and compact.  Well, I’m well proportioned and Pocket is compact.  Our shoulders should be the same height as our rump.  I am going to have to find my Suzanne Somers video to make that happen.  

Legs
It states our forelegs should be straight, our elbows either in nor out.  Excuse me:  But to be best is show I have to have elbows on my legs?  I think not.   Our hind legs stifles should be bent.  What the hell is a stifle, and why was Archie Bunker always ordering Edith to get him one>  Have you ever gone to the vet and told him you had an ache in your stifle?  How are you supposed to bend a body part we don’t know we have?  We also should have black toenails.  But what about my pedicures?  What lollipop would choose best in show over great nails?   Our declaws are also removed.  I have to ask:  If best in show is the best breed standard, why all the cosmetic surgery?

Tail
Our tail is to be docked to a medium length.  OK, this is where I waive the tail feather.  Yorkie tails are beautiful, leave us alone and let us fly our freak flag.  There is something wrong with a people who will dock your tail but leave your reproductives in place.  Then again there is something wrong with cutting off our reproductives and not docking our tail.  You people can’t wait to snip and clip can you?  It is like you all have Edward Scissorhand envy.  New  rule between dog and man:  You don’t clip and we don’t nip.  Or better yet you don’t dock and we won’t talk about your little clock.

Coat
Quality, texture and quantity of coat are of prime importance which are all things my Daddy said didn’t matter.  Our hair must be straight, not wavy, which is a real blow to the doggy mousse industry.  The rules say it should be floor length. Look, I like to clean the floor with my tongue but I’m not a swifter.  Oh and I should have a bow in my hair.  Why should I have to get myself dressed up pretty?  What am I some sweet harlot looking to pick up a Johnny Fun Time?  Personally I love our short haired looks.  Frankly I don’t have time to do my hair in the morning.

Colors
Puppies are born black and tan and are normally darker in body color, which makes Rick Santorum want to vomit.  The color of our hair continues to be important through life.  When I was in my rebellious age, three through five, I had a pink Mohawk.  That really set back my show dog career..  The richness of the tan on our head is important so apparently we need to resemble a drat of Guinness.  Also we need to be a dark steel-blue not a silver blue.  Personally I have had the I lost my ovaries blue for a long time.

Color on Body
Our blues have to extend over our body from the neck to the root of our tale.  Note:  In 1967 BB King had a top then hit with How Blue is My Tail?

Headfall
I don’t want to know what this means.  And I don’t want to know.  When I was Queen Yorkie in France I was know for saying “Let them eat kibble.”  Lots of pups lost their head of that one but I escape with mine.  

Chest and Legs
I’m not sure what they are going for here but I am sure implants are not appreciated.
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Weight
Must not exceed seven pounds.  I don’t agree with this at all.  I think we are creating bulimic pups.  I weigh slightly over seven pounds.  Let’s here it for all the real lollipops with curves.  Woof, woof.

So neither Pocket or I will ever be best in show.  But we’re best in our house.  I don’t have a problem with show dogs.  They all seem like good pups to me.  But to our owners we don’t need a list of rules about what makes us perfect.  They know we are all truly perfect at heart.