The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

After intense contract negotiations I have agreed to come back for K-9 Kamp Three:  The Search for Rock (Hard Abs.)  At the age of five and looking, if I may say so, in fine form, there is no need for me to rejoin the kamp but my partner in K-9 Kamp Krime, my Daddy, is a fat horse of a different color. I think Foley could use K-9 Kamp but she got a note excusing her.  It read:  “Dear K-9 Kamp director:  Foley will be unable to do K-9 Kamp again this year because she has a lactating patella, arthritis, and spends every day toning the most important muscle in her body, her tongue.  Signed Foley’s Mother.” On the other hand I am glad that Foley is not joining us.  There are two main exercises that Daddy and I do.  One is the ball chasing.  Daddy throws the ball and I chase it, which is how I keep my fine form, but it does not give Daddy much exercise, except when he has to crawl on the ground to get the ball from under a hutch, or under the bed, or on a grate, or,

Pocket:  Every morning Foley and I fight over food.  I  savor my food while Foley sucks hers down like a Dustbuster.  When she is done with her food she moves to my plate and tries to steal my food. Foley:  This is completely untrue.  (OK, I do eat like a Dustbuster.)  As every member of a pack will attest any time a dog leaves their food unattended it becomes free game for the rest of the members of the pack.  Once Pocket ignores her plate I should be able to dive in nose first. Pocket:  This is not true.  A pack is built on love and trust.   If one member likes to walk around a little in the middle of the meal they should be entitled. Foley:  A pack is built on hunger and need.  We are needed healthy to keep our pack strong.  To do so we need food.  If food is presented before us unattended we eat it to keep strong and keep the pack strong. Pocket:  That is ridiculous.  You are just being selfish. Foley:  No, you are leaving the food just to bait me

It was way back in 2007.   I was eating my kibble and surfing the Internet.   I read a story about a new online network for (Get this!) dogs.  The writer was outraged but I was intrigued and the next day I signed up for DS. The writer wondered what type of people would write, or enjoy reading, blogs written by humans from the point of view of their dogs.  The writer didn’t know the answer was the best humans. I made lots of friends in those early days, and, when I got in trouble and bounced around the Internet, they followed me until we found the Promised Land of the Tanner Brigade where I stayed, and then found my way back to DS.  During my travels I have met over 1,000 dogs and watched many of them take the mocked art of writing a blog from their point of view of their and turn it into something very special. Nearly six years since I started blogging it seems strange to meet a dog who doesn’t blog.  There is even a Disney show about a dog with a blog, who,

There is no such thing as a home with only one dog.  And every home with multiple dogs has a member of the pack their parents have never met.  And these dogs all have the same name,  They are called:  “Sum Other Dawg,” “Sum Other Dawg” is the one who gets us in all the trouble   He (or she, they can come in either sex, but the one in my house is a he so I will continue to refer to “Sum Other Dawg” as he) is also the best hider in the house.  He breaks a lamp, rips apart the couch, counter surfs, eats what he shouldn’t, pees and vicks everywhere, and perpetuates several other crimes and misdemeanors and when one of our parents walks in the room and discovers it “Sum Other Dawg” is gone. “Who did this?” Mommy yells. “Sum Other Dawg,” Pocket and I respond.   “And where is this Sum Other Dawg?” she asks skeptically. Pocket and I look around and our brother is gone.   We run around the house looking for him but once again he has hidden himself perfectly  And Pocket

We live in America, a country where no one can agree on anything, gun control, birth control, Benghazi, the IRS, taxes, wars.  If someone is for something there is always someone against it.  But there is one thing that all  dogs and men can agree on.  Ticks suck. This week two of our most favorite dogs in the world, Leo and Butkus, both got diagnosed with illnesses they acquired from these vicious little blood suckers.  Leo was at a scheduled vet visit when his Mom was shocked to learn that he had tested positive for Lime disease.  For Butkus the discovery of his illness was quite scary. While Leo wasn’t showing any symptoms Butkus was, but, like many tick borne illnesses it wasn’t clear what the illness was.  He seemed lazier than usual.  But no one thought it was strange.  Then Butkus disappeared.  His family searched the yard.  Like lots of sick dogs Butkus had tried to hide from the pain he was feeling.  He got under the shed and then he became too painfu

While Foley is doing better, she can run to the bedroom at bedtime (with me, playing defense, trying to block her with my snapping) and she can climb the stairs (if she is in the mood)  she is not the walker she used to be.  Once she does her business she gives Daddy her: “I want to go home now!” look.  Depending on where we are on the walk Daddy either picks her up and carries her until I have concluded my business or her brings Foley home and I get a solo walk. Being walked alone is wicked cool.  I can sniff what I want, bark at what I want, spend as much time as I need reading tree mail.  When we duel walked Foley would stop because she needed a rest or hurried me through my sniffing because the subject matter did not interest her, or became embroiled in some other senior dog’s tree mail that I was not interested in.  (“It took me so long to pee today.  And I was up three times during the night to pee.  I think it is going to rain on Thursday.  My lumbago is acti

Humans don’t like being called a dog.  I don’t know why.  I think everyone who visits this site would agree that there are few things a human can be called that is better than a dog:  Loyal, unconditionally loving, warm, funny, all the fine attributes of a dog, all attributes a human should aspire to. So, on this Sunday, when I usually write about special dogs, I acknowledge our Moms, because they are loyal, love us unconditionally, keep us warm, do funny things, feed us, keep us clean, clean up after us and keep us healthy. I know when we go somewhere like Petco, or the dog park, we are usually too overcome with smells and other dogs to listen to anything more than the basic commands.   But if you do listen to our Moms you will find that what they talk about the most is us.   And they are usually gushing over how much we mean to them, how well behaved we are, or, if not, how our bad behavior is charming.   If you ever doubt how much your Mom loves you then l

I have found while working for Foley as a legal aide has been fulfilling I have also discovered that she keeps most of the kibble.  Wanting to be able to add to the family coffers I have done what many humans are doing, scouring the Internet looking for job opportunities.  I found one in a story written about a dog salon in New York owned by celebrity dog groomer and upper class twit Jorge Bendersky. Mr. Bendersky has found a way to separate fashion conscious pet lovers and their money.  He tattoos their  pooch.  Ouch!  When I contacted Mr Bendersky he told me:    "In the summer, they cut the dogs' hair short, so you've got to supplement the glamour. Having no hair is no excuse not to be glamorous," While I would hate to disagree with a New York based pooch stamping groomer I, like many of my pup friends, have summer cuts, even in winter, and consider it quite glamorous.  We have beautiful eyes, cute noses, and all different shapes and sizes of ear

We are sorry to say our friend PJ went to the Bridge this morning.  Thank you for all your prayers. 

I am not sure how many of you know my friend PJ but he, and his Mom, got some devastating news this week and they are in need of major prayers.  First let me tell you a little about him.  He is a beautiful dog who lives in Paignton South West in the United Kingdom.  He met his Mom when she was still a young girl.  He waited for her to get home from school each day, and they grew into adulthood together.  Since then he has become a big Momma’s boy.   We have lots in common.  Pocket and I  live in Taunton Massachusetts which is named after a town called Taunton England which PJ has traveled to, so we have barked at each other about how lovely his Taunton is and how much our Taunton sucks.  Despite having a heart murmur and colitis PJ is a little ball of energy who never leaves his Mom’s side. On Thursday we found out that PJ had a very bad day.  He kept collapsing and his Mom rushed him to the vet.  She sent out word to their friends that he  needed prayers. The