December 29, 2013 Pups of the Week: In Memorium

We recognize too many dogs this week, too many that crossed from the Mortal Side of the River of Life to the Eternal Side.  There are so many more, and if we have forgotten a family, or pack member, we do apologize. (And thank you to Tommy Tunes for the borrowing of several pictures.)

And now:  In memorium

 Girlie in January

Pierre in January

Dolce in January

Francis in February

Emmie Lou in February

Desoto in February

Tasha in March

Gizmo passed over in March of 2013 from cancer.

 Yoda in April

 Lizzie in May

Meeka in May

PJ from complications from cancer surgery in May

Me, of lung cancer, in June

Fella, from cancer, in June

Roxanne, in June

Atlas in July

Hans from cancer in July

Cassie from stomach cancer in July.

Willie, the dog who said no, in July

Boomer in August

Reba, of  cancer, in September

 Juno in September

Wishbone in September

Annie, of cancer, in September

Ms Queenie, in her sleep, in October

Giant George in October

Ariel in October

Angel in October

Benny, from cancer, in October

Buddy, of cancer, in November

Brandy in November

Kimber in November

Bailey in December

China in December

Jess in December

Misha, of cancer in December

What the hell is this cold, white, fluffy stuff by River Song

I spent most of the first year of my life in Florida, basking in the sunshine, thinking that when the temperature slipped to 40 degrees it was a cold day.

I moved to New England in July and the weather was divine.  Then someone put cold in the air.  I didn’t mind it so much.  I got a warm, snuggly jacket to wear that was really quite fashionable.  This winter thing was going to be a snap.

And then, just a couple of mornings ago, I was lifted by Daddy from my warm bed, snuggled next to Mommy, carried on to the porch, and fitted in my warm jacket while I looked outside.  The trees looked lovely, covered in a fluffy white substance, and the ground was covered with the same.  I then saw the cause of this beauty.  Little white flakes floated to the ground, spinning, drifting, dazzling white beauties, like hundreds of butterflies settling on the grass.

Daddy carried me down the steps and over the icy driveway.  These fluffy white flakes settled on my head, feeling cool, but not wet.  One touched my nose and tickled it with cold.

Then Daddy placed me on the white covered grass and holy bejeeburs!  At first my paws were cold, and then the beautiful white flakes melted under me, and my paws were wet and turning to ice. The flakes that hit me in the head melted  and then the wind hit me, freezing the flakes to my fur, and idiot Daddy pulled on my leash expecting me to perform.

Perform what?  My business?  Out here?  I am not some drunk outside a football stadium before kickoff filled with bratwurst and bruskies.  I may have arrived at my forever home with a tarnished reputation but since arriving I have been a proper lollipop and I was not flashing my most naughty bits in a winter wonderland.  

But Daddy pulled on my leash and spoke to me sharply telling me to go “pee pee” like the cold had tumbled him back to the first grade.  I spread my legs, pushed downwards, and began to urinate, when my naughty bits hit the cold and sent a shiver down my spine and throughout my body.

I was done.  This winter was not for me.  I had been trained on pee pads, and now I knew why, my Florida Mommy was preparing me for the harsh move up North.  The next time we went out Daddy bent down to leash me and I let loose right there on the porch, unsuccessfully trying to melt the rug.  After the next two times Daddy finally got the message.

Now there are pee pads on the porch for me.  Daddy gives me the option each time we go outside.  If the weather is acceptable I do my business, but if not, I turn and go on the pads.  

If the winter keeps up like this I will see you outside in April.  If you want to find my I’ll be at my pad.

Misha is Our December 22, 2013 Pup of the Week

It has been so long since I have been asked to swear in a good friend at the Bridge I was hoping we would make it to the New Year, since there is nothing more sorrowful than losing a loved one at the holidays.   But this week I got the sad summons, grabbed my robe and my swearing in book and waited at the top of the steps.  Although I knew she would be coming someday soon, I hoped Misha would make it to Christmas, alas, the Gods had other plans.

Misha’s journey to the Bridge was a long and strenuous one.  She fought very hard against the cancer but that’s a match that we only win when the cancer relents, and her cancer, like mine, had no desire to relent.

It started with an innocent trip to the vet where liver levels were slightly high.  A few day’s later it was another every day act, a rub on Misha’s throat, when the large lump was felt, Misha cried out, and her Mom’s heart sunk to her feet.   They went to the vet and he ran a painful test and then, even more painfully they had to wait for the result

When the result came it was the news they feared.  Misha had a cancerous tumor in her neck.  Her parents decided to forgo surgery and take her to a cancer center to see if the surgery could get the entire mass or would only add to Misha’s suffering.  Misha and I had so much in common, we had seemed fine except for throat problems, which both our parents had thought were caused by a faulty trachea, and both our parents were shocked to find out they were wrong.                                       

The doctors at the cancer facility decided the tumor had to be removed then sent out to be analyzed.  Before the tumor could be removed the news got worse.  The tumor was growing rapidly.  It had attached to her tonsils and lymph nodes.  Misha would, after the removal of the tumor, likely have to go through chemotherapy.                                         

Misha had the surgery, came through successfully and was brought home.  The doctors thought they got all the cancer, but, because of where it was located, it was likely to return.  Her parents decided not to do chemotherapy so she did not have to suffer anymore.  Her parents didn’t know when the cancer would return so they decided to love her and spoil her for as long as they could.   

Misha’s remission lasted five months, but inevitably the cancer spread to her left lymph node.  The cancer was not yet in her heart and her lungs but her doctors were concerned it was likely.  There would be no more surgeries or treatments.  Misha was closing in on her 13th birthday (as was I at the end) and, quality of life was most important.  As her Mom said: “We don't know how long we will have with her but we are going to enjoy every minute we can with her.”

Misha kept fighting, taking her pills and eating despite having a partially paralyzed tongue,  She kept up her appetite, had no vomiting or loose poops.  She even had the energy to chase varmints.  And Misha and her parents enjoyed every day together.

This week Misha’s made her journey from the mortal side of the Bridge with her pack to the immortal side with us angels.  Her health went downhill as she ran out of all the energy that kept her with her family.  A kind vet came to their house to aid her on her journey so she didn’t have to go to the vet’s office.  She so hated the vet.  So she did not pass over alone, but surrounded by her family.

Misha was a champion who travelled to competitions, a treasured member of her family, and a beautiful friend.   She greeted me warmly as she was sworn in.  I know her family was hoping to spend one last Christmas with her, and I am so sorry they weren’t able to, but she will be spending it next to me, here at The Bridge, where we will be celebrating our first magical Christmas at the Bridge together.

We would rather be spending it with our families but the fates would not allow.   So we will spend it together, and, on Christmas Eve, when magical things happen, we will both slip into our Mom’s dreams to wish them a Merry Christmas.

Judge Foley Announces New Lead Council For Her Law Firm and Files Her First Case

Being a Judge at Rainbow Bridge means that I had to sever my ties with my former law firm.  Originally I was going to appoint Pocket as head litigator but I have changed my mind for two reasons.  One:  Pocket is an excellent researcher but not very confident when it comes to her speaking abilities during trials and two:  If you had to go to court would you want to look at the opposing counsel and see this:

And now we have our first big case.  Several dogs have come to me to complain about items being sold at pet stores.  They pose a direct threat to both the dignity of dogs and our rights to peacefully enjoy their lives.  I shall now list our three main pieces of evidence in this case.

First is this:

It is a bottle opener attached to a dog collar.  I have heard tails told of men who convince their adoring pets to fetch them alcoholic beverages.  While I believe the law should not become involved in the relationship between dog and parent I find such behavior an abuse of said relationship.  For the parent to grasp the dog by the collar and use it to open his disgusting beer, filling the pups nostrils with the noxious smell and treating the sweet angel like an appliance is appalling.  While some pet parents do not use the best judgment, especially the more they drink, we hold that the company selling the produce it at fault and we are seeking a restraining order to make them stop.  If the do not cooperate with our request to stop selling the collar bottle opener they will be face with this.

Our second piece of evidence is this:

Again, it has to do with humans’ love of beer.  They are treats that taste like beer.  Not wine, or another tasty beverage like Sex on the Beach, but, gross, skanky beer.  I believe the idea behind this product is, when our Dads have drank too many of these beers, and are regurgitating them into the toilet, we will be next to them, regurgitating our treats right next to them.  This is an abuse of our bodies.  Treats are our weakness.  We will eat any treat presented to us even if it is harmful.  Since a small percentage of humans are using bad judgment in buying these treats we ask that they be pulled from the shelves immediately or the store owners will be summoned to court and face this.

And this is our third piece of evidence:

I lived my life under the banner “Freedom to Bark” and this means freedom to live without muzzles.  Now I know these are a necessary evil.  Lots of dogs go out and put things in their mouth they shouldn’t.   My sister River is one of them.  But there should be no other reason to muzzle.  This product not only silences our freedom to bark, but mocks us in the process.  A muzzled dog is a humiliated dog, and to add to the humiliation with cartoon drawings, is an unspeakable injustice.  We demand that these products be moved immediately.  If not you will have to face this.

The plaintiff rests.

Wordless Wednesday Throwback

The Snow Dogs Are Our December 15, 2013 Pups of the week

Here at Rainbow Bridge it doesn’t snow   We do have mountains  where we can climb then play in the snow, go sledding, and partake in snowball fights, while Huskies and their ilk have wonderful fun romping and rolling.  But we don’t have any of those cold, windy, icy, snowy days that we hate.

This week, on the mortal side of the Bridge, all across the country, many friends got slammed with snow, ice, wind, and downed power lines.    When they went to do their business they got snow covered paws, icy and damp fur, and the dreaded toweling off.

Thankfully no one was lost in the big cold fluffy.  All our parents survived. As I sit up here on the green banks looking in the River of Life I must admit I don’t miss sticking my who who in the freezing snow to melt a little with my pee, and I was able to muffle a snicker when Pocket went to settle into a squat and ended up spread eagle on the ice.

When I was a youngster Mommy, Daddy, Blake and I would go walking in the early evening at the state mental institution, through the snow, and I would scoot my bottom on the cold.  This got both my parents very upset, and they took me to the vet, who found nothing wrong.  But there was something wrong:  I thought it was a bad idea to be walking at the state mental institution at night and my scooting got them to reconsider their fallacy.

Let’s see how some of our friends soldiered through the storm.

Snow can’t keep our friend Leo from looking regal and proud.

Meika has already formed her opinion and is done with the snow for the year.

Scooby and Odie pose for a picture despite cold paws.

Molly is done with the cold and wants in now!

Toby, Maggie and Pokey make the best of a cold situation.

It looks like this is going to be the start of a long winter with plenty of snowy pictures.  So here is to the snow dogs:  May they always have a safe and warm place to hide from the cold.