Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Ask Aunt Foley: My Daddy's Desk

Dear Aunt Foley:  I jumped up on Mommy’s desk chair doing what I often do, looking for something to eat, when I saw the entire desk was taken up with little dog statues and figurines and one picture of her and Daddy.  This is my question:  Why does she need a picture of her and Daddy when she sees him every day? - Brody

Dear Brody:  I have to tell you Brody this one had me stumped.  I investigated this thoroughly and think I have the answer.  It comes down to the often stated complaint from Daddies to Mommies:   “You care more about the dog than you do about me.”  While this is undoubtedly true Mommies sometimes have to throw Daddies the proverbial bone.  So, among all the tributes to dogs on her desks she has one little picture of her and Daddy to make him think his one teeny tiny little picture means more to Mommy than all the dog tributes.  Daddies, so silly and so easily satisfied.

Dear Aunt Foley:  My Mom and I play the most wonderful game.  She knows that I am an escape artist so each day she puts me in a locked box then goes out.  I have until she comes home to get out of the box.  This last time they put even stronger hooks that Daddy uses on his farm to keep me in my crate.  I have to admire their pluck but I was able to get my paws around the bolts and pry the kennel bars apart until they snapped.  Then I moved on to the second part of the game.  Daddy always has his face in one of those book things looking for clues on how to make his box stronger so I ripped the books apart.  Then I over celebrated by destroying my brother Koda’s favorite toy.  Mommy and Daddy don’t get mad but I need to know what to expect in their never ending quest to make my box more secure. -Emme

Dear Emme - I hope you realize how special your parents are.  You destroy your crate, rip up books, and you don’t get in trouble?  That is truly more amazing than your ability as an escape artist.  I think you have a really good thing going on but you have to keep your parents interested for the game to continue.  Don’t break out every day.  Only do it every three or four days.  Mommy and Daddy will think they are “getting there” and may not work too hard for your to get out.  Recognize how good you have it and give your parents a win here and there.

Dear Aunt Foley:  I live in a place called Mexico City and for some reason the entire house begins shaking and the ground outside does too.  When it happens Mommy takes us downstairs where we are supposed to be safe.  Once it calms down Mommy is very nervous waiting for what she calls the after shakes.  What is going on?  Why does the Earth shake?  And why do we have to worry about it shaking afterwards? - Rain

Dear Rain:  Don’t panic.  I have one a lot of research on this and the answer is zombies.  They are underground and they are trying to get above ground to eat brains.  But the Earth is keeping them underground.  Sometimes these things happen but know that the Earth does  great job of keeping the zombies underground, but if they do escape you need to run like the wind Bullseye.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Willie is our April 28, 2013 Pup of the Week

It was just a short time ago that I wrote about our friend Willie and his long battle with bone cancer on his leg.  I usually don’t like to recognize the same dog repeatedly but Willie is proving to be the bravest and toughest dog I have ever met.

Our courageous friend’s rollercoaster ride continues but lately it has been charging downwards more often than it has been climbing upwards.  Poor three working limbed Willie still climbs back up no matter how often the cruelties of his condition push him down.

This week his tumor burst.  It had begun to grow again a few weeks ago but his Mom did not expect it to explode.  She saw blood seeping through his bandage and got it off quickly.  It was bleeding very badly.  His Mom rewrapped it, gave him some pain meds, made plans to see Dr Kair and asked for prayers.

After he returned from the vet his Mom reported that the burst area was small and not infected which was good new.  And Willie was in no pain.  Dr Kari packed his wound with a coagulant and wrapped him up.  She was confident that his condition could be managed with frequent bandage changes and possibly the cope of some tissues   She said it was not time to make any major decisions.

But his Mom was still very worried about him.  He could not put any weight on his leg and had to maneuver on three legs.   He would not stop licking at the the tumor and he got through the bandages opening his wound and bleeding on the dining room rug.  His Mom rewrapped the bandage and gave him a pill.  She then put him in bed with her while kicking Daddy out.  Willie breathing was heavy and he often panted.  It took a half hour for him to fall asleep while his Mom lay anxiously next to him.  When she awoke Willie was on the floor.  He did not want to go outside and do his business and he was very tied.  His Mom was hoping to get him to the beach, at least one more time, but if his leg was wrapped that would be impossible.  He was still eating, which was a good sign, and his Mom just wanted him to be happy.  Being at the beach and running in the waves made him happy.

The morning Willie was scheduled to see Dr Kari his Mom changed his bandage and he started putting weight on his leg.  She found out that Dr Kari was unavailable and Willie saw Dr. Smith.  But that momentary climb upwards led to one long cliff dive.  Dr Smith examined the tumor and it had grown by 150%.  Dr Smith wrote a prescription for pain pills making clear there was little else that could be done.

When the rollercoaster was at it’s lowest, and the car was in the darkest part of the track, Willie’s Mom asked a question.  “IF he only has a matter of weeks/months why would I not let him swim if he can manage..or at least wade in the water and walk the beach?”  Willie has been eating, he is only taking one pain pill, he is walking on all fours, and his Mom said if Willie wants to keep fighting then she is going to fight with him 100%.  She asked our Moms what they thought and they agreed with her, if Willie is not in pain, eating and wants to fight then let him fight.

As of Sunday evening Willie was doing good.  His wound had grown to be the size of a 50 cent piece and his Mom is changing his bandage and was adding antibiotic cream to his dressing.  She is also letting Willie lick it a bit because his Mom figures the saliva can’t hurt him.  He didn’t get to go in the water as his parents repaired some damage from Hurricane but he loved being on the beach.  He walked up and down the stairs, which is more than I can do.  He was more active than he had been in months.  After a great day he has a trip to the vets on Monday so let’s say a prayer for him.  

So let’s live like Willie, live for today, fight through the pain and don’t complain, just live like there is no day but today, and while we do that let’s pray every day that Willie just gets one more day with us, and hopefully we will be able to say that prayer for 1,000 more days.

Keep going Willie, you are our superstar.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Foley Monster's Message From Animals to Humans

Members of the human race please come in and be seated.  Everyone move to the center make room for the latecomers.  Thank you.  Now settle down.

You may be wondering why my dog friends, cat friends, horses, cows, pigs, rodents, goats, sheep, all manner of birds, lizards, fishes and I have asked you here today.  I will sum it up in one sentence.  This is our planet as much as yours so stop screwing it up.

Last week a couple of underachieving losers set off a bomb in Boston, a city my sister Pocket and I have visited several times.  The bomb was planted near the library where we have walked.   It is not far from the Boston Common where there are squirrels, ducks, chipmunks and other tree dwelling friends.  There are many birds who fly between the skyscrapers and seagulls who come ashore for the food.

The Lord gave us all different gifts, but he gave the most to you, and one of the gifts he gave to you is us.  We all serve you.  Some of us comfort you, some of us provide you hunting for sport, some of us feed you, some of us keep the delicate ecosystem in balance so the weather doesn’t become too crazy and the land continues to provide you with food.  

And it’s true that you do a lot for us, feeding us, keeping us healthy, giving us a dry place to sleep, and we don’t hold it against you when you slaughter about 75 percent of us for meat or sport.  Honestly there isn’t much we hold against you.  We like you.  But there is one small thing we would like you to do.

Stop acting like you own the world.  You don’t.  It doesn’t belong to any of us.  We are all on this Earth taking a journey to what will hopefully be a better place.  You must think of it that way.  As if this planet is just a train or a plane, taking you somewhere you want to be, and you are just one passenger among many others.  You wouldn’t just blow up the train or plane would you?

Oh wait, yeah, you would
We in the animal world are not without sin.  We fight, we kill, he make unwanted sexual advances, but we do it one on one.  Us dogs may not like squirrels but we don’t try to kill a bunch of squirrels at one time, we just go after one particular squirrel.  Only humans try to wipe out hundreds, thousands, millions of their enemies at one swoop.

So please stop, think, consider.  Yes you got the big brains and the opposable thumbs.  You make the money, you actually own pieces of land that we share  But you don’t own the air, the sea, the wind, the planet.  And you don’t get to disturb it with your big bombs, your rivers of blood, the screams of the anguished, it’s not yours.  It’s ours.

And since you are the only creature who shares this Earth that have needlessly thought of reasons to ruin it please think of all of us before you do it.  

Because the world does not belong to you.  It belong to.....
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.

The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;--

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.                        
Cecil Frances Alexander

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Tillie is Our April 21, 2013 Pup of the Week

Today we celebrate Tillie, a dog I never met, or even barked at on the Internet.  She was a Lhaso Apso owned by Auntie Bev and without her there would be no tails to tell.

On Saturday morning our Auntie Bev passed away,  She was one of the most important people in our lives, and, without knowing it, changed lives throughout the world.

In 1996 Mommy and Daddy had been married for two years.  During that time Daddy would ask the same question:  “Can we get a dog?” and Mommy would give the same answer “No way.”

Mommy said she was not a “dog person.”  The only dog she had become close to was one who showed up in her driveway before she married Daddy.  She was a small Shih Tzu and, when she saw Mommy, she stood on her back legs and twirled.  Mommy giggled.  She picked the puppy up and checked for tags but there was no sign of an owner.  She reported the lost dog to Animal Control and the Police but no one stepped forward to claim him for two days.  On the third day, after Mommy had come to enjoy the puppy on her lap and the sweet kisses, the pup’s family tracked her down leaving Mommy very sad.

Shortly after Mommy and Daddy got married they got a cat, Gizmo, who they called Mr Mean.  He never sat with Mommy, bit her, attacked family members and was a terrible grouch.  Mommy mentioned one days she would like a lap dog for company.   Daddy immediately thought of Aunt Bev’s dog Tillie and said he would introduce Mommy to Tillie the next day.

Unfortunately Tillie had gone to the Bridge the summer before but Aunt Bev told Mommy that us little dogs were no work.  She said we barely ever barked, were easily house trained, weren’t stubborn at all, and Mommy wouldn’t even notice us.  Loving her nephew very much Auntie Bev basically lied her ass of for him.

Mommy said she would consider getting a dog and Daddy didn’t let a blade of grass grow under him.  He was investigating the want ads the next day and before ]sunset Blake Bear was a member of the family.  A few years later, after Gizmo ate an entire Glad large trash bag and went to the Bridge, they decided to add another dog who they named Foley, and later gave the last name Monster because of my unruly hair and big ears.

And from that day forward, every time Mommy and Daddy got a new pup, they were at Aunt Bev’s who, her body wracked by arthritis and unable to take care of a dog on her own, enjoyed each doggy Mom owned including Pocket, who was the last dog Mommy and Daddy introduced to her.

After her husband, Uncle Bob, passed away, Daddy spent an hour a week with Auntie Bev and he learned so much from her, which he passed on to us.  Her arthritis became worse and soon she had a fall which put her in the hospital and then a nursing home.  We visited her several times there until her mind, like her body, began to give out before her heart until that too finally beat it’s last and she passed on to the Bridge to be reunited with her beloved husband Uncle Bob, Tillie, and all the dogs who came before Tillie.

When the day comes for me to go to the Bridge I know Auntie Bev will be there to meet me and both of us will be young again and we will get to play like we never got to on this Earthly realm because we will be young, strong, and fast again.  I will tell her my stories and she will tell me hers and I will finally get to meet Tillie.

Auntie Bev never knew how many lives she touched, because without her there would be no me, and without me my Mommy would not have found so many wonderful friends on the Internet, there would be no Tanner Brigade, DS would be a different place, dogs would go unrepresented in  a court of law, Hobo may never have written his book.

So thank you Tillie for being a wonderful dog who inspired Auntie Bev to convince Mommy to get a dog, which led to a blog, to great friends, to a wonderful social network, and so many good friends and good times.

And thank you Auntie Bev for my life.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

From the Case Files of Foley Monster Attorney at Paw: 51% of $500.00

Even after suffering the type of knee injury that would make RG3 retire from all lateral movement I cannot stop working.  This week I represented Sundance a 12 year old Golden Retriever from Montana who not only ate five $100 bills belonging to his father,Wayne Klinkel, but, against the advice of the most renown dog lawyer on the planet, admitted it.

The good news is that my client was not being charged with ruining the money.   I was hired to prove that Sundance had such bad teeth and poor digestion that he did not destroy the money more than 49%.  According to the big book of insane human rules if there is 51% of currency remaining the government will reimburse it.  Thus, I had to prove Sundance’s inability to break down 51% of what he has eaten.

Also there were questions I needed answered.  Why did Wayne Klinkel have five $100.00 lying around the house?  Was he a pimp, drug dealer or purveyor of strip clubs?  Who has hundreds?  They are a pain to get someone to break and it’s a lot harder for a dog to eat a hundred ones than a single hundred.  Sounds like this money may have been a little dirty, or, since it was eaten and digested, a little too clean.
I was told the money was taken out of his feces.  Feces?  Why is that the acceptable word for poo?  Every day in millions of conversations the words siht, crap, poo and doo doo arise.  Never does anyone say feces.  No “I don’t give a feces,” no “the feces hit the fan”, no “you’re in deep feces.”  It’s a gross, disgusting word, much more so than the supposedly bad words it replaces.  I would never eat my own feces, but poo?  That’s good stuff
I fed Sundance a large plate of chicken then waited for him to digest it.  Then I had my assistant Pocket take a taste of Sundance’s poo (don’t judge us.  As my old law school professor Ruth Ginsburgh told me when you are a lawyer you have to eat a lot of crap for your client.)  Pocket finished and told us she could not taste the chicken.

“Darn it Sundance, stop digesting so much!” I said.  Sundance told me he didn’t know how to stop it.  Pocket said she had an idea and consulted our Internet friend Barney Google.  Google said that, during the trial, to show Sundance didn’t digest well, we should feed him hot peppers, acidic foods such as citrus fruits, tomatoes, coffee and alcoholic beverages,

Just before the case started we began pouring beef beer down Sundance’s throat.  Once we got him drunk we figured it would be easier to feed him the rest of the food.  But it was unnecessary.  Sundance  found the peppers and acidic food lovely.

We then brought our client into court.  We explained what we fed Sundance and then waited for the result.  A half hour later, after some court clearing flatulence Sundance produced his stools.  “Pocket, go into the poo and see if you can find any undigested food,” I ordered.

    “Un-huh,” she said.

    “Pocket as junior partner you need to put your nose in some poo.”

    Pocket muttered,  went over to the poo and pulled out peppers, coffee grinds and three beer cans.  I knew we should have poured the beer out first.

    “Your honor, as you can see our client cannot digest food so the money should be replaced,” I said.

    “It does not matter if Sundance cannot digest the food you just fed him, what matters is the money that was digested has enough of the bills left to still be considered money”

I agreed with the Judge and produced the money.  The Judge asked me what was on it and I said feces.

“Feces?” the Judge yelled loudly.  “I am not examining anything covered with feces.  Siht, crap, doo-doo, poopies, vicks, number twos, big logs, excrement, the big deuce, sure, I will examine all of that but feces?  Blech!  No way.”

“So what about my money?” Mr Kinkel asked.

“With no other testimony I must side with Attorney Foley Monster and reward you the money.”

And once again, thanks to a big bill hoarding Kinkel, a dog who doesn’t know the value of money, only the taste, and food you should never feed a dog I have made legal history again.

Unfortunately my fee was a bunch of feces covered bills.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Chase and Slater are our April 13, Pups of the Week

Everyday it’s the same thing.  We bark and we’re told to quiet down.  Our parents don’t bother to find out what we are barking at they just order quiet.  This week Chase and Slater scored a big victory for all dogs who have ever been told to be quiet while impending doom is about to strike.

One night this week Chase and Slater were standing by the outside glass door barking into the night.  Their Mom kept telling them to quit down.  When she went to check on what caused the barking she was stunned to find a man slumped over on his porch.  

She called 911 and the police came for the slumping man.  They loaded him into the police car and took him away.  The next day a man came to speak to Chase’s and Slater’s Dad to tell him that the man had been sleep walking although sleep slumping seems more appropriate.

Chase’s and Slater’s Mom realized that, if they had not barked at him, warning her, when she went to sleep, the slumping man may have straightened, entered their home, and who knows what damage could be done.  Recently our friend Anna Nicole’s house was robbed. Luckily only the pups were home and no one was hurt.

What Chase and Slater did, shortly after what happened at Anna’s house, may finally give us what we have wanted for so long.  The Freedom to Bark whenever we want.  And now, when we do, and our parents begin to tell us that we should be quiet, they will think of Chase and Slater, and hopefully not say anything at all.

Now, when we are looking out the window, and we see a neighbor walking down the street and start to bark loudly Mommy won’t yell at us to quiet down but will start to think of the walker as a potential porch sloucher.  If we start barking at a noise that only we can hear instead of getting shouted at for barking at nothing maybe they will recognize that it could be the sound of supersonic North Korean missiles hundreds of miles away and our barking will help them get to safety before the explosions.

So thank you Chase and Slater, not only for protecting your Mom from the serial sloucher but to put in the minds of Mom’s everywhere that we might not be barking for no reason but we actually are barking because we are under an imminent threat (when, in reality, we are just barking to bark.)

Thank you Chase and Slater for giving us the Freedom to Bark.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Mom's New Recliner

The human insanity never ends.  Just when we are comfortable they turn the tables on us and bring in something we could never have comprehended in two dozen years.

I knew something was amiss last night.  Before bed Mommy and Daddy began moving our furniture around.  They took our recliner (Aside:  It is our recliner, it belongs to me, Mommy and Pocket. We sit on it together, we snuggle, cuddle, eat treats on it, and at the end of this recliner I have licked so much the fabric is all sticky.   It is on the recliner and the bed that we live so it is ours.  End of Aside.) and moved it to where Daddy sits, put Daddy’s recliner where the glider was, and put the glider that no one sits on in the front room where no one sits.  I was concerned because the spot where we sat now held an empty recliner.

This morning Mommy went to breakfast with a friend.   I think the only reason she did it was to try hide her culpability in what happened next.  There was the sound of a truck outside that made both Pocket and I bark loudly.  Then two strange men with interesting smells came in carrying a new chair.  This made us very excited.  A new chair.  It went right into the sport where Mom’s old recliner was.  I liked this one even more.  It had great smells, it was very snuggly, and unlike Mom’s old recliner it did not spin.  (When I jumped on it I was always worried it would move and I would splat on the floor.)  

Then, when Mommy got home Daddy placed me in the chair while Pocket ran over to show her what came.  She was very happy.  While I was watching Mommy’s smiling face Daddy did something you should never do with a chair.  He plugged it in.  Maybe, if we had seen him do it, we wouldn’t have been as shocked, but we didn’t.  Mommy and Pocket sat with me in the chair and at first it was the coolest thing ever.  Mommy picked up a remote hooked to the chair, the bottom lifted in a slow, easy manner and we reclined peacefully.  It was heaven.

Then the heat came on.  I was sitting next to Mommy with my butt on the back rest when it became nice and warm and my knee stopped aching.  It was so nice,   I was settling into a long nap when suddenly the freaking thing began to vibrate.  Pocket flew off the chair and almost crashed into the love seat.  Mommy and I were stuck in the chair like Leo and Kate struggling on the door at the end of Titanic.

But apparently nothing untoward had happened.  Mommy told me that it was a vibrating chair.  What a terrible thing to do to a wonderful piece of furniture.  Why can’t humans leave well enough alone?  You got total comfort and you have to add a vibrator to it?  I am surprised they didn’t put bacon on it.  If I invented vibrating bacon humans would never leave the house.

Also the  chair rises to help Mommy stand but when we sit in it, if she hasn’t lowered it yet, the chair is slanted downward.  It’s like sitting in a soft chair in the Joker’s hideout.  I just don’t think this chair is on the level.

Well there is good news.  There are now three recliners in the living room. One is empty most of the time and gets lots of sun, but since it’s empty I am missing the human warmth.  The second one is Mommy’s old spinning recliner which Daddy sits in.  It’s thinner than the empty recliner but Daddy is thicker than Mommy so there is less room to sit.  Then there is the freaky vibrating recliner.  I guess I will have to choose that one but Pocket and I are talking about one of us pulling the cord from the wall and the other chewing the remote wires.  What could go wrong?

For now I guess we will have to get used to the vibrating zombie chair.  

Poetry Thursday

  It is a new segmant of  Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton  in pictures….here is the photoi followed by my poem.  Who can take bananas? Pil...