The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Hi gang, it’s me Pocket reporting from K-9 Kamp glad to say that Daddy and I have completed our favorite challenge: Play with your balls. In fact I think Daddy and I helped name this challenge last year because we have two minds that have not expanded much beyond pupdom. Now there is nothing I enjoy more than chasing my own balls. Or, should I say my own ball, because I am a one ball girl. For those of you unfamiliar with how particular I sm with balls I have several balls of various shapes and sizes but there is only one ball I will chase. I will chase it until I have gutted it and it doesn’t bounce anymore. We will then have a small ceremony to honor the ball, then put it out for the men who give it a proper burial in what the humans call the landfill, then Daddy lines up my brightly colored balls, and I sniff them, paw at them, and then choose one with my paw, pull it out of line and nose it to Daddy. He puts the rest back in my playpen and I play with that one ball for mo

Recently it was dog bite awareness week. I was unable to blog that week but I want to take this opportunity to speak to the humans to make them aware of one important way to avoid getting bit: Stop pissing us off. First, let’s deal with our tails. They have many functions. Mostly they are used to express our joy. But they are not a handle. Don’t pull them, don’t squeeze them, don’t wrench them. When you do we are have protect ourselves and, since we were not born with sharp claws, machine guns attached to our under quarters, or boxing gloves on our paws. Our only protection is our mouths: hence you get bit. Second, and this applies to our big dog friends, don’t try to ride us. We are not ponies. Our backbones are not meant to support the weight of a human or a child. Hey, we are willing to drag you on a sled in the middle of the snow and willing to bring you a bottle of whiskey when your dumb ass gets lost on a mountain. You don’t expect horsies to do that, don’t be exp

I never want to be accused of favoritism but today I am willing to take that chance because I am recognizing two pups, Chelsea and Ashton, who are both members of the mightiest of dog breeds, the Yorkshire Terrier. For almost an entire month we did not hear from our sweet friends. We became very concerned because they lived in the part of Texas where there were terrible tornadoes, and while there were no fatalities the human news reporters rarely count dogs among their casualties so there was still reason for concern. We all sent messages, e-mail, tree mail, pee a grams, but we got no response. Finally our little friends (little to most of you, to us they are properly sized) posted an update. Her ‘puter got sick and she called the tech support so much the phone system crashed and no one could order Chinese food in New Dehli for a week. That was on April 21 and we were so happy the Yorkie silence was over. Then we heard no yelping from them for another three weeks. Now, as y

We have successfully completed our walking on sunshine task but not without a few problems. Daddy and I were getting ready. He pulled on his training pants, his tube socks, his sneakers. I licked my pads to make sure there were no obstructions and was ready to go. Mommy then interrupted us. She said words I dreaded to hear: Why don’t you take Foley along. Geesh. Here I am. Four years old, in the prime of my prime, I am ready for my challenge, and not only do I have to drag tubby Daddy but now I got the Betty White of Yorkies to drag along. If we were going to win this challenge it came down to me: Pocket Dog. And I am never more worried than when things came down to me. So we started our walk. Daddy used a purposeful stride. I walked with pride next to him. Foley dug in her paws and use her low center of gravity to imitate a turtle wearing a leash. If I may suggest to my K9 Kamp Kreating friends, that next year they add the stubborn Diva Yorkie drag challenge.

This is for the Bub in all of us. Wednesday will be the third anniversary of the Tanner Brigade: A ragtag group of dogs, some who did not feel wanted on Doggyspace (or, like Pocket and I, and Tanner Bub and Cocoa, were barred) while others stayed on DS and joined the Tanner Brigade to keep in contact with their friends. For those of you who don’t know we will repeat the story of the founding of the Brigade, as humans do the story of the nativity of Christmas Eve, because Pocket and I take ourselves way too seriously. It all began with a group named Yellow Labs on Doggyspace. Tanner Bub founded the Yellow Labs group, but one day he found it gone. He questioned the old DS management and was told his Yellow Labs group was assimilated with another Labs group. But Tanner was upset that all the Yellow Labs threads and comments were gone. He asked me what to do Being a wise dog who has studied history I suggested, in the words of Franklin Douglas, that he agitate, agitate, ag

Spent most of the winter wearing my snowcap Gaining the pounds as I ate mounds of crap Gonna hook my workout booties with a strap ‘Cause now we’re getting together to do the K-9 Kamp rap Can’t wait to go walking with Daddy in the sun Rules say we’re supposed to but I don’t think I can make him run People are going to be behind me watching me shake my little bun But remember we’re workin folks so it’s not just fun Gonna watch what we eat, no more Frosty Paws Gotta lose some weight so I can see my claws And some of Daddy’s eating got to be put on pause I am worried about layoffs at the local Shaw’s Week two we are going to play with our balls I’m tiny so mine are small We’re going to play until Daddy keels and falls For a little dog getting him to bed is going to be a haul In two weeks we shouldn’t be fat I’ll be able to get up a tree after that brat cat I’ll fly from tree to tree like an acrobat Though I’ll likely go splat if I fly into a bat We can’t wait to play minute to win it Altho

On March 4, 2012 we recognized a dirty, wet, black dog who was abandoned by his family during a storm and left to die then had to depend on the kindness of strangers to survive. Well now that black dog has a name, Bear, and a new home with those kind neighbors, Sandy, Maggie, Nikki and their wonderful parents. After his parents returned, over more than two months this beautiful black baby was further mistreated, left alone, left outside, covered in ticks and fleas. Whenever he saw Sandy’s parents he would give them that pleading look, but instead of begging for a treat this poor baby was begging for a home. Sandy’s Daddy kept knocking on the neighboring door telling the bad parents that they obviously didn’t care for the dog and to just surrender him to a family that would love him and each time they were met with a curt no. Sandy’s Daddy would then sit and pull ticks off the black dog who looked up at him begging for love. Finally, after watching Bear have one too many clo

HAA-CHOO! Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry. That was impolite. But I have issues without tissues. Since it stopped raining here I am not three steps out the door until I start sneezing and hacking. It has made my daily bodily functions into a bother. I got sneeze stuff coming out my nose, cough stuff out my mouth, not to mention the usual stuff that gets produced during the process. I am even having trouble licking. I lick Daddy and mid lick I begin to cough and sneeze. This is very frustrating. The allergies have affected Pocket. She goes WHO HAW WHO HAW. Yesterday morning we only got a couple of driveways past ours before Daddy took our sniveling butt home. Last night Mommy gave us both a little bit of Benadryl and I can lick Daddy without coughing and sneezing. The truth test will be when I go outside again. If I go outside again. Right now I feel like being a housecat. Give me a box, I’ll go in it. I just don’t like sneezing Foley I am. Two nights ago the power went

I, Foley Monster, with the help of my able assistant Pocket Dog, who is currently hiding under the bed trembling, is declaring war on Mexico. You may be wondering if I have joined the right wing of our political world taking a heavy paw to our immigration problems. No, this is not an immigration issue. This is an emigration issue. In Mexico City the government has set up stations where our humans can deposit our excrement. And, to encourage the use of the stations you get free wi-fi through a port in the station for each deposit. Honestly, I can’t make this siht up. This is a true story. Mexicans can now exchange our waste for free access to porn. This is what Pancho Villa dreamed for Mexico. Now, you might be asking yourself, why is the most famous dog attorney in the country taking exception to a system that would turn our excrement into power? First, I think we are being used. While it is our bitter droppings that are the source of power are we getting to go on the

It has been a quiet week here on the Brigade. I like quiet weeks. No friends who are sick,or parents that are ill or in dire financial situations. No one is knocking on the Bridge door. This does make picking Pup of the Week a bit of a challenge. But a challenge Pocket and I both enjoy. It gives us a chance to pick members who are there for us every week, making us laugh and smile. There is no one who does that better than our gentle friend Hobo Hudson. And Hobo is on the verge of making us all famous. With the help of Zoe Boe’s Mom Hobo is working on releasing his first collected works. Pocket and I have been talking about doing our collected works too. But I think it is easier when you’re an only dog. No arguments about whose name come first and who gets the most stories. Hobo has risen from a dog whose first owner left him tied to a tree to a dog that has become known through cyberspace. His Mom Bruny writes a very popular column . Our Mom posts it on the Faceb

There have been lots of doings around my castle lately and while it has cost me lap time I haven’t minded, but it’s starting to gnaw at my infinite patience. As some of you may have learned on Riley’s blog on TB we have a new member of our extended family. My human sister Kim, who was my bestie’s Bailey’s Mom, got picked out by a little male Shih Tzu named Neely to be his Mom. I must admit he is a cute little thing. He is going to stay with us in July and that’s when the real test will be. I take a backseat to no interloper in the cuteness department. And Mommy’s lap is mine if I want it. If Neely hasn’t been fixed yet and tries anything funny he’s got a nip of a surprise waiting for him. But may I say to him my casa is Sue’s cases. So consider yourself at home. But if you wander into my leopard skin vagina condo the fur is going to fly. Now you would think, for my sister Kim’s family, that would be enough of a story line, even in May sweeps. But my sweet grandbaby Mad

I have read several blogs lately about pups who compete in agility courses. I am proud of all these dogs and try to give them a big congratulatory kiss at the finish line. (This is also the best way to get your picture on the cover of Dog Agility Magazine without having to break a pant.) But I am tired of having the dogs who do agility on courses getting all the glory. What about the dogs like me? The ones who do agility all day long without getting any glory or ribbons. Well I am here to sing their praises. My agility course begins in the morning when I am gently lifted out of my warm bed and placed on the cold floor. I have to walk from the bedroom rug to the hardwood floor in the living room, back on to a rug, then the hardwood and then finally the linoleum on the kitchen. The changes in paw placement and force going from one surface to another is very difficult. And I have to use a great deal of balance on the hardwood floor so your paws don’t slip out. The next step