The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Every pack has a primary barker.  In our pack it’s me.  Occasionally I will let Pocket bark if she has something important to say ~eye roll~ or if I need a break, but, for the most part, when you hear barking from us, it’s me. I think there are a lot of packs like that.  Tommy barks more than Freddie Girl.  Hattie more than Jackie Lynn.  But that doesn’t mean that the quieter dog is any less loved, it just mean they have a slightly smaller personality (editor’s note from Pocket:  and ego). When we were first trying out this dog networking thing one of our initial friends was Erin.  Erin knew everything we didn’t know.  There was no one better at explaining how to upload pictures, videos, and design a page than Erin and her Mom.  And she was always open to answer our many questions. Some of us thought that Erin was an only dog because she was the only one who barked but Erin had a brother Buck.   We didn’t hear much from Buck but Erin would tell tale of him and post a darling picture or

On Wednesday, Calvin, who is 19 months old, and is our only male grandbaby came to visit. I am very excited when the grandbabies come to our house because I have so much to teach them. And they frequently drop food. To be honest, when the grandbabies age, I lose interest in them. Once they get old enough to pick me up, squeeze me, and cause general uncomfortableness, I get done with the sniffing and greeting then I am cool with finding a place to hang out where they can’t bother me. They have Pocket to carry around the house, pet, poke, jostle and generally annoy. But I love the little ones who aren’t coordinated enough to annoy. Who stumble around, fall to their knees and laugh. Who crap in their pants. They are my peeps. When Calvin came over Mommy gave him some loose goldfish treats, and a sealed box containing more goldfish. He would eat one, and then drop his hand, and I would be all over that hand, licking, nuzzling and ticking until I got a treat. It was like taking goldfish fro

Foley Monster:  Good morning, greetings, salutations and a Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.  Welcome to the 2012 All Pups Almost Annual Thanksgiving Day parade which we forgot to have last year.  With me is my sister Pocket Dog. Pocket:  I’m not wearing pants.  I’m buck naked! Foley Monster:  And we are so proud of you for that.  This parade will be comprised of friends of ours from Tanner Brigade, Doggyspace, and the blogging world and it should be the best parade every and to start it out here comes the Min Pin Gang Marching band. Pocket:  Look out those Min Pin’s play.  We have Min Pin trumpet and sousaphone players and even drummers, and ooops, it looks like Cricket ran off with Mouse’s drum stick but Mouse is going one with one stick.  What a trooper. Foley Monster:  Here is one of my favorite floats.  It’s the Pokey, Maggie and Toby Dog Transport Float.  And look at all the dogs on the float being transported to new home by their wonderful Mom Laura. Pocket:  In front of the fl

It is Thanksgiving week and one of the things that I am very thankful for is that I have met one of the sweetest dogs, and sweetest owners ever, Pokey and his Mom Laura.  I don’t know a single pup who doesn’t know the name Pokey Lunn.  He is a sweet friend, a gentleman, and a kind soul. Everyone know his Mom Miss Laura who has devoted her life to saving dogs even though she had to have several operations after one of the dogs she rescued, tormented by memories of past owners, turned on her and ripped her arm open.  Such a tragedy only redoubled Miss Laura’s efforts to adopt another dog, and give time to transport dogs to new homes.  She recently gave a home to another rescue, Toby, and helped heal him through a bad case of heartworm (he is not totally in the clear, so if he have extra prayers, please send some his way.) In the past two weeks we learned very distressing news.  Pokey began coughing and his Mom hurried him to the vet.  He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  Th

Has your human ever looked at you and yawned?  Yes, agreed, it is quite rude, but do you find yourself yawning back, and not just out of spite but out of some strange, uncontrollable response?  Well, a group of researchers from Scientists Who Aren’t Interested in Studying Anything Helpful have learned that dogs become more susceptible to yawning when their humans yawn.  Now that’s a  waste  of time.   The researches from the Lund Institute, I believe, although given their studies, it could be the (Quaa)Lude Institute, determined that dogs, over a course of time, develop empathy for humans.  Over a period of time?  How many humans have puppies  who from the first day know when their parents are happy or sad, anxious or relaxed?  Us dogs, we work hard on this, we pride ourselves on this, it has been learned from generation to generation, we are the most empathic beings in the world, and it’s not from yawning, it’s from love.  And please, stop studying us, we aren’t hard to figure ou

This is part two of the Courtship of Hobo and Lily.  Part one can be found here  There will be further installments to follow.  When we last left them Hobo and Lily had split up over Hobo trying to give her an actual rock for an engagement gift and then a string of misunderstandings.  Their friends have come together to help them find true love. Hobo is awakened  by the jangle of his alarm at 6 a.m. and jumped into the shower.  After having blown-dried his fur, he stared into the mirror and carefully drew a very thin black line down his upper right fang with a sharpie. Then, he stuffed cotton balls into his upper lip to simulate swelling and off he went. He kept his lip curled back to allow the ink to dry, and donned a fedora.   He sat in Lily’s office doorway by 7:30 a.m. where he kept a sharp lookout for the arrival of Lily’s office personnel.  A little poodle in scrubs walked up and fumbled in her purse for keys, and Hobo began a low moaning. The little poodle looked at him and ask