Friday, February 28, 2014

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley:  I think most humans agree that us dogs show the same emotions that they do.  But there are still humans who study dogs, and insist that we do not show emotion.  Now that you are on the immortal side of the River of Life, can you provide any insight on this long debated question?  Emotional in Pittsburgh

Dear Emotional:  Now that I am on the immortal side of the Bridge I so enjoy the theorists and philosophers on the mortal side who struggle with the mysteries of life.  Although I have taken an oath not to reveal the secrets contained  on the immortal side I will tell you that the entirety of life is more spectacular and fascinating than mere mortal minds can comprehend.  As for your question I will answer this:  There are two schools of thought popular with humans, one, that man is descended from the ape, and second, that God created Adam and then Eve from a rib and all humans are descended from them, both of which are terribly wrong.  

The actual story of Adam and Eve didn’t take place at the Garden of Eden, but the Olive Garden, Eve didn’t tempt Adam with an apple from a snake, but with a fruit salad made with calamari, which Adam did not find to his taste, causing him to start a fight with the manager, and getting them banished from the Olive Garden, making complaining about the blessing of food the true original sin.

Which brings me to evolution and the answer to your question.  Humans hate the idea that they evolved from feces throwing, crap eating, masturbating monkeys.  So humans produce opinions that makes the idea of being evolved from monkeys seem ridiculous by saying that men cannot be evolved from monkeys because monkeys don’t experience emotions, and then they use that conclusion to cover all animals.

In truth man is not evolved from apes.  Man did start in the ocean, and then crawled out to land, and then developed into the perfect state of dog. At that point dogs felt the need to take care of someone, and to be taken care of, so one set of dogs decided to walk upright, grow slope noses, and become man, while other stayed in the perfect state of dogs, and those that didn’t develop correctly became monkeys.  That is why we bond so well.  We are all part of the same family.

And if you are worried about the hand of God in this story, this is being by a Yorkie who was last seen on the mortal side of life in June of last year, if  you can’t find a reasons to believe in that then I don’t know if you will be able to find a reason to believe in anything.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Otis is our February 23, 2014 Pup of the Week (With a Special Mention for Daisy)

Some weeks I am stunned to see a friend crossing the Bridge, other weeks, having kept tabs on my friends, and knowing their status, I am less surprised, though still saddened to see them.

Since I first met him five years ago Otis has been suffering from diabetes and has been blind,  His Mom has taken wonderful care of him, but diabetes is not an aging dog’s friend and finally Otis’ condition deteriorated.  His parents were forced to make the long dreaded decision after Otis’ appetite decreased to nearly non-existent. he showed signs of confusion, and was in pain.  After one final trip to his favorite place in the world, his backyard, his parents aided him on his trip.

And soon he was climbing the stairs from the Bridge to be sworn in, and while I could feel his parents’ pain, I could also feel their relief that their decision had stopped their beloved baby’s pain,  I saw Otis, for the first time in our friendship, seeing me, as he slowly looked around, taking it all in:  Hundreds of friends, the sky, the clouds, the mountains, the river, the birds and the Bridge.

When he reached me, after I swore him in, I asked him, out of everything he was seeing for the first time in years what were his thoughts.  “You’re really short,” he said.  “I knew you were small but man, you’re tiny.”  I pointed out the sun, the birds, the grass, the butterflies.  “Yeah, they’re nice,” he said. “but damn you’re smaller than an overfed squirrel.”

Becoming slightly annoyed, I decided to change the subject, and asked Otis what he would miss the most about the mortal side of the Bridge.  “That’s easy,” he said.  “My Mom.  Us dogs are supposed to take care of our Moms but I got sick and she spent so much time taking care of me I could barely take care of her.  I was so lucky getting her for a Mom.  A blind diabetic dog is not easy.  The commitment, the shots, the cost of the medicine, arranging the house so I didn’t get hurt, she did so much for me.  If only I could tell her how much I loved her and appreciated what she did for me one more time.”  I put my average sized paw on his and told him he just did.

I asked him if there was anything he wanted to do.  He sadly shook his head and said his only wish his last days was to look at his Mom’s pretty face one more time.  I told him to follow me and we went down the stairs to the River of Life and I told him to look in.  Instead of his reflection he saw his sad Mom mourning him.  “She looks more beautiful than the last time I saw her,” he marvelled.  I asked him if he wanted to explore and he said he was happy just to sit by the River and finally see his Mom.

I sat with Otis for awhile, but then I saw another friend climbing the steps, Daisy from Downunder, who writes her own very popular blog.
 I loved reading it, especially in the winter, when she would take us along on her hot summer walks while we were freezing.  Daisy, like me. had cancer, and she fought for a long time, but we all have only so many heartbeats.  After I swore her in she asked me what Otis was doing, and when I told her, she said that sounded wonderful, so we joined Otis.  Daisy watched over her grieving mother in the water too.

But I wasn’t looking at my Mom, I do that a lot each day, I was watching Otis watch, and seeing his Mom’s reflection in his seeing eyes was the best thing I saw in a long time.

Friday, February 21, 2014

Ask Aunt Foley

Since I passed from the mortal side of the Bridge to the immortal side I have not done an Ask Aunt Foley blog.  I was hoping that after my passing dogs would get smarter, unfortunately after watching my friends in the River of Life I realized they needed my help more than over.

And, as always, these are actual questions from actual dogs.

Dear Aunt Foley:  For years I have had a binky.  I love my binky very much.  Whenever I got stressed out from having 36 feet of snow outside I found my binky to soothe my psyche.  Then one day for no reason, and with no explanation, my Mommy took my binky away.  I am totally stressed out, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I need my binky!  Can you please speak to my Mommy so I can get my binky back. Signed Enzo.
Dear Enzo:  This is an outrage.  Your Mommy should not have taken your binky away.  She got you hooked on binkies, just like my Mommy got me hooked on cigarettes, and she cannot expect you to quit them cold turkey.  I advise your mother either gets you another binky as soon as possible or she finds something to replace the binky and, since the binky acts as a nipple, and you are stuck on a snow covered mountain, we suggest your Mommy be ready to do some breast feeding like this good Mommy.

Dear Aunt Foley:  This has be a terribly hard winter for all of us with very cold temperatures and lots of snow and ice.  Is there anything you can do about the weather?  Freezing Puppy
Dear Freezing Puppy:   I do say your weather might be in someway my fault.  At the beginning of the year I had a huge angel hockey tournament that went on fo weeks.  We had to keep the temperature low to keep the ice frozen,  And when I sent the zamboni out the refresh the ice the gathered ice became snow falling on your homes.  After the hockey tournament we moved into the Angel Winter Olympics with more hockey, skiing, and ice dancing.  The Olympics should be over in a few weeks and then your weather should warm up.  Please understand, we are up her for eternity and that’s a long time so we do have to find ways to pass the endless time.

Dear Aunt Foley:  I recently moved into my forever home.  When we discussed the rules of living there no one told me that removing a bottle of wine from the rack, removing the foil, and pulling out the cork was bad, but evidently it is.  Since no one explained to me that this was wrong was I at fault? - Katie
Dear Katie:  Of course it wasn’t your fault.  Any parent should know when they bring a new dog home they need to take the dog around the house and point out what things they may and may not play with.  Obviously your Dad did not do this so the fault lays with him.  Also Pocket wants to know if your Daddy told you specifically not to mail wine to any of your friends.  If the answer is no you can find Pocket’s address on your Daddy’s computer.  Send along a bottle.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Pocket Dog Ice Dancer

I am not, in any way, a fan of the snow, ice, or cold.  Being a wee dog the ice sticks in my paws, the snow sticks to my fur, and the cold clings to me for minutes after I enter the warm house.  

I do find myself a bit jealous of those big dogs that can go romping through the snow, jumping in and out of it, the gravity shaking it from their fur. I don’t have the push off the legs to romp through the snow.  I just sink into it and get stuck. Then I worry if the sun gets strong enough I, like the snow, will melt away.

But sometimes after the snow has been around a couple of days it starts to melt, then it freezes overnight, and makes a nice layer of ice on top of the snow.  For most dogs that’s when they go crunching through the snow but for me then when I can go gliding.

I climb up on the snow and suddenly I have summited a mountain.  I can see inches further than I have ever seen before.  I can look Daddy, who is standing in the driiveway holding my leash, straight in the knee.  I do so with a smile, not wanting to scare him with my now daunting size.

I tentatively take a few steps forward, and then I stop short. During warm weather walks this usually trips up Daddy because he isn’t looking at me..  But today he is just watching as I stop short and then skate across the top of the snow.  I shift my weight slightly to my right, lift my left legs, and start to go in a circle/.  I shift my weight again to the left, and do the same with my left legs making a wonderful figure eight.

While my Daddy yells at me to hurry up and pee I run towards the snow banks by the driveway and slide up and down like a furry penguin.  In my mind I can hear the announcer:  Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A Yorkshire Terrier, now, about to become the Olympic champion. It looks like a mirac... she set a world record!  She set a world record!  She set a world record.

After setting the record I did as all great champions do, first peeing, and then defecating on the course.  I then walked across the ice, in the sunshine, triumphant, hoping for a victory lap to cuddle up in when I heard a crunch, my right foreleg broke through the snow into the cold and my chin smacked the snow.

The sun had melted my fine crust of ice that has supported me, but that was OK, if it got cold overnight then I would have my ice back in the morning, and if not it’s one day closer to spring.

But for today, I am a champion.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Romey is our February 16, 2014 Pup of the Week

It was a mistake, of that I was sure.   There had never been a mistake before, but surely this was one, and it was up to me to fix it.

I was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for a new arrival.  Ladybug, one of our most revered greeter angels, was with me.  Then I saw Romey coming up the stairs and I ran down (I know….I know…...I am not supposed to run down the steps.  I never was very good with rules.)  

Romey was young, healthy, vibrant, His Mom had just got married and through Romey we were all part of the planning and celebration.  He had got a new sister:  Lacey.  They were just starting to be a family. There was no reason for him to be here.  Romey must have been mistaken for another dog, one that looked like him, or had a similar name.  He still had lots of living to do, lots of loving to give, lots of stories to share, lots of pictures to delight us with  

I reached my most cherished friend and asked why he was here.  He told me he ate a sock and it was stringy.  The string perforated 18 inches of his intestine and he had to be operated on.  It was now the next day, and he had crossed the River of Life via Rainbow Bridge.

I am a Yorkie, and Yorkies are known for their temper, but nothing had made me angrier than this.  I stomped up the stairs on little paws.  I brushed right past Ladybug who warned me not to go.  I began to run, up the hill, my little legs churning, until I reached the open air Cathedral where there Big Dog resided.  I walked right in, without an invitation, and, most disrespectfully, shouted:  “Hey!”

The was a heavenly sigh:  “Yes Foley?” a voice from the sky barked.

“There has been an error  My friend Romey is here and he shouldn’t be.   All he did was eat a sock.  Us dogs eat stuff all the time, shoes, belts, wallets, remotes, chairs, couches, chocolate, all sorts of things we shouldn’t eat.  Sometimes we get sick, sometimes we have to go to the vets, sometimes we even have operations, but we don’t cross Rainbow Bridge because of it.  It makes no sense.”

I could hear another sigh, a great shuffling of position, and then the thunderous voice.  “Every soul is born with so many heartbeats Foley,” he said.  “I have told you this.  And when those heartbeats end, how a soul crosses the River of Life does not matter, only what he did with those heartbeats.”

“But he was so young!” I argued.

“We all don’t get the same amount of heartbeats Foley.  Some get a lot, some get only a few.  Sadly, Romey did not get as many as others.  But that’s the way it is.  And there is nothing anybody can do about it.”

“But eating a sock, that’s a foolish reason to pass over.”

“Are there any reasons that aren’t foolish?” the Big Dog asked,

The Big Dog made some good points, but I hated to admit, so I hupphed, and turned around.  It wasn’t the first time he had told me that a soul only had so many heartbeats, and that life was not fair, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

When I got back to the stairs they were empty, and I had a momentary hope that Romey had been sent back, but then I felt his soft paw on my shoulder, and he told me that a judge from another district had sworn him in.  I apologized for not doing the honors myself.

“That’s OK Foley,” my always understanding friend said.  “Arguing with the Big Dog for me was a stupid thing to do, but friends do stupid things for one another and I appreciate it very much.  And, if you ever need me to do something like that for you, let me know, because that’s what good friends do for one another.  But first there is something I must do.”

What he needed to do was find his Mom, his Dad, and Lacey a new pup to love.   And this weekend he did that.  He arranged for Lacey to convince her parents that she needed a new collar for Valentine’s Day, and the store she picked to get the collar had a rescue, and in that rescue was a young pup that Romey had selected for her parents.  Some warm looks, some snuggles, some kisses, and this pup, now named Heidi, was with Romey’s parents, starting to build a new life together in their new family.

And I have Romey, who has promised to do something stupid for me someday, but, considering how smartly he moved Heidi into his home, I am going to be relying on doing plenty of smart things for me.

And most of all I am going to remember that it doesn’t matter how many heartbeats you have but what you do with them, and Romey did a great deal with a very few.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Foley teaches River about Adventures

I feel an obligation to go on an adventure. Foley always had entertaining adventures.  She led an invasion of the Princess’ castle. saved a lost kitty from some wild cats, rescued a skunk from a snowbank, met the President after catfully profiling a kitty, went to rehab after interrupting her friend’s speech during the Pet Video Awards.  

I had assumed that the hijinks would be taken over by Pocket.  She once floated away in a balloon but she said that’s because Foley built it.  I don’t want to be building no balloons.  But we do have an audience and I feel it is my responsibility to provide adventures for our many readers.

I do think in my six months of blogging that I have provided some entertainment with my leaping over gates, my howling, my dabbling in drug use, my wayward youth as a single Mom, my visiting my baby Daddy, but none of the grand adventures Foley Monster had.

So I knew what I had to do.  I made a dream request to meet with the Judge herself.  Soon after falling asleep I was floating amongst the clouds looking down at everything, and then I saw her, sitting behind her bench, and she motioned for me to take a seat at the witness stand.

She told me that I had to keep abreast of current events.  “Look at this Justin Beiber kid” she said.  “If I was on your side of the River of Life I would have written a blog about how I challenged that punk kid to a drag race and drove away when he got pulled over.  And the Olympics are going on.  Four years ago Pocket and I raced in the bobsled, you two could compete in an new Olympic event.”

My frown became frownier.  “Do you expect our readers to believe that a Griffon who can’t see over the dashboard or reach the pedals could drag race Justin Beiber or that two toy breeds could compete in the Olympics?”

“They believe that you are having dream meeting with a Yorkie who passed away eight months ago and is now a Judge at Rainbow Bridge, they are starved for entertainment.  They will believe anything.”

And then I woke up.  And I knew my mission.  I need to start sniffing out a grand adventure that would make Foley proud.  Anybody got an address for this Beiber kid?

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Meika is our February 9, 2014 Pup of the Week

On Monday a messenger pigeon flew in my window and told me I was needed for another swearing in.  With a sigh I put down my book, grabbed my robes, dressed myself with the help of my chipmunk assistants and went to my spot at the top of the stairs leading from the Bridge.

The swearing in ceremony is dignified and proper.  I have been told not to go down the stairs when I saw a friend.  “Don’t run down the stairs!  Don’t run down the stairs!”  they yelled.  When I saw the beautiful black dog with the white muzzle I forgot all protocol.  I ran down the stairs.

It was Meika.  My sister from another litter.  My confidant.  My special advisor.  Every day when we were on the mortal side of the Bridge, after Meika, her brother Reese, and her Dad Jeff, left the Dog Channel site under circumstances that mirrored Pocket and my leaving the original DS, and came to the new DS, we barked at one another every day.  We bonded over our hatred of cold and wet weather, our devotion to our parents, and mostly the daily struggle of living with a totally unprofessional younger sibling.

When I passed to this side of the Bridge Meika and her family were so supportive to my Mom, Dad and Pocket.  I don’t know if they would have made it without y Meika’s family constantly checking on them and lifting them up.  But this was normal for Meika and Reese.  They took it on as their duty to help parents in their most painful days and did so with the utmost respect.  Meika once told me they tried to be supportive, posting blogs and pictures of the departed, but didn’t want to pry, or be a bother, to those in mourning.

When I thought of Meika saying that I stopped running.  Not because I remembered my decorum or cared about the dignity of my office.  I got hit by a rogue wave of grief as I felt the incredible hurt and sorrow emanating across the Bridge from Reese, Daddy Jeff and Uncle Ron.

And then I remembered what I saw when I was checked in the River of Life that morning.  Pocket answering a blog from Meika, which she started doing when I went to the Bridge, and they discussed the same things that Meika and I did, including how annoying a younger sibling is (now River.)

By the time Meika had reached me we tried to hug, but she is much taller than me and I just ended up rubbing her belly, but the sentiment was there.  Then we walked up the stairs together, and Meika was welcomed to her new forever home, on the immortal side of life.

But I kept thinking of Pocket.  She always signed off her blogs with Meika, “looking forward to your next bark.”  Except that next bark won’t be coming.  I know, Reese, Jeff, and Uncle Ron are waiting for that next bark too.  A bark is so precious.

I appointed Meika to my council, where she will act as my paw, and we will talk about all those things we used to complain about, and wonder what we were ever complaining about.

And we will wait for our friends, and parents to arrive, so they can hear our next bark.

Friday, February 7, 2014

A Pocket of Snow

The big question this winter is how many Pocket fulls of snow do we get with each storm.

Daddy does not trust meteorologists.  He says that they predict how much snow is going to fall. and, inevitably, that amount is wrong.  But when he puts the TV on the meteorologists are congratulating themselves on getting the snowfall amounts exactly right.

This is the type of thing that bothers Daddy a great deal and no one else any deal.  He  found out that they measure snow on what is called a snowboard.  They put the board down, and then every hour they go out and measure the snow, then wipe it off, and measure it again an hour later, until it stops snowing or Shawn White steals the board and breaks his wrist.

So the totals represent what fell, but not what is actually on the ground, which has either been compacted by more snow, or melted on contact.  I found the entire thing extremely boring until I heard Daddy say he invented a new way to measure snow.

First he went outside and shoveled a hole in the snow.  Then he came back inside. got me and put me in the hole, then turned and yelled to Mommy:  “We got a half a Pocket of snow.”  A couple of days later we got more snow.  Daddy went outside, dug a bigger hole, put me in, and yelled to Mommy “We got two and a half Pockets of snow.”

I have been reduced to a unit of measurement.
Where will this foolishness end?  Is your GPS going to tell you that the nearest Home Depot is 1,376 Pockets away?  Are they going to announce a David Ortiz home run traveled 687 Pockets?  Is a trip to Jupiter going to be described as 8,760 light Pockets away?   

They are talking about more snow for this weekend, I don’t know how many Pockets we are going to get.  I hope it’s a short storm.  I hate having to go outside for multiple Pocket measurements

In the meanwhile you and your parents should consider your own Pockets.  Are you getting the right Pockets of kibble?  Do you parents earn enough Pockets?  It is time to demand more Pockets.

Or, when it comes to winter, less..

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Thank You For Helping Make My Mom Smile By Foley Monster

I have been truly blessed with so many great friends,  both here on the immortal side of the River of Life, and, where many of you are reading this, on the mortal side, although I seldom single any out publicly because you all deserve your own special blog for your kindness towards me and if I can’t do them all, I don’t want to do just one.

But I do have to mention one dog, my brother from another litter, my bestest friend on either side of the Bridge, my loyal brother Leo.  No matter where I have been, or what trouble I may have caused, Leo has always stood by me and never wanted anything more than friendship.

During my visits with my Mom in her dreams, she told me how sad she was without me, despite the very valiant efforts of Pocket and River.  The worst part was, upon waking, Mommy forgot our talks.  The vague bit of memory she had only made her sadder.  She needed something to lift her spirits.

I knew just the thing, a necklace from Blue Laamb Designs that Mommy could wear near her heart and would remind her of me everyday.  The problem was dogs don’t need money on your side of the River and have less of a need for it on my side, so I needed to find someone with money

I popped into Leo’s dreams and told him of my dilemma and as always he said he could solve my problem.  The next day he told his Mom what I wanted to do and she said that she would contact the Laambies Mom to get the necklace and send her the money to cover the costs.

The Laambies Mom sent my Mommy the perfect necklace, with an angel wing, a pup, and a paw prints stamped heart.  The card said simply “From Foley.”  Oh Mommy was so happy.  She cried when she saw it, very happy tears, and she put it on, and has worn it every day since.

I was so proud, but there was a tugging at my conscious.  While I had set this plan in motion I needed to share the gratitude.  So I went back down to Leo and asked him to check with his Mom to see if she would agree to get the credit she richly deserved.  At first she refused, saying that the gift was really from me, but I kept bothering Leo, and he kept nagging his Mom, until she finally relented, which made me very happy, because now she can be recognized for being the wonderful person that she is (which we all knew anyway.)

So now I would like to publicly thank Leo, his Mom Eileen, the Laambies and thier Mom, Patricia Patterson, for helping me bring an everyday smile to my Mom’s face and for designing this wonderful necklace.

Thank you all

Wordless Wednesday