The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Unless you have been long time friends of ours you won’t recognize the names of Barney. They have been at the Bridge a very long time.  Barney was the first dog who ever owned my Daddy.  He came into the family because of our Grampy, who went to the Bridge this week.  Grampy worked in what was known back in the day as newspapers, which were a bunch of blogs all put together on big pieces of parchment and printed in multiple quantities. It is hard to imagine living in such a barbaric age. My Daddy and Auntie had been pestering Grampy for a dog after Auntie’s dog Alice went to the Bridge.  They had read a book about a baseball playing beagle named Barney and insisted they get a beagle and name it Barney.  One of the pressmen at Grampy’s paper, Snuffy Smith, owned a dog who had a litter.  Getting a dog from a man named Snuffy Smith confirmed that the name Barney was well chosen.  There was an old comic strip called Barney Google and Snuffy Smith so it was logical that Snuffy would

Dear Aunt Foley:  The other day I was going for my daily walk.  At the end of the walk Mommy usually tells me to sit and wait for my release word.  She then goes to the house, gives me my release word, I run to her and she gives me a treat.  Well, on this day, Mommy has me stay and then she walks in the house and I’m just sitting there. And I waited.  And waited.  Finally she gives me my release word and I run into the house where I get my treat, then Mommy tells me she had forgotten the treat and left me out there until she got one.  Am I smart, clever, well trained or sneaky?  - Jake the Rake Dear Jake:  Let me handle these one at a time.  First you are very smart.  You learned exactly what to do to get treats from your Mom.  I can’t say you are clever.  If you were clever you would be able to get the kibble without following your training.  This is very hard  to do and takes years of training.  It is like a Jedi mind trick.  I am sure you will get there soon my son.  You are not s

The picture was taken, I posted it on our blog, and one year later that photo has received 2,332 hits on our blog page.  Only three other blogs we have written have gotten more hits. This has caused quite a bit of consternation in my pack, in both its conscious and unconscious states. Foley and River work on their blogs for hours, coming up with imaginative stories, grand adventures, glorious tributes, and if their work gets a couple of hundred hits they congratulate themselves on their achievement.  But beneath that burns an all consuming jealousy that my pretty mug has drawn 100 times as many views. River will be sitting at the table, one paw on the keyboard, another scratching her head as she contemplates her next words.  “Why don’t you just take my picture, then you’d get lots of hits,” I say.  She snaps at me but being snoutless her teeth don’t pose much of a threat. Foley popped into my dreams, made me get out of bed and call up our blog. She showed me the c

Every dog is a hero in their own home.  All our humans require from us to be their hero is friendship and love, but sometimes we do something truly heroic. That brings me to my very good friend Reese.  He has had a lot on his plate since his big sister Meika went to the Bridge.  His family was left broken hearted and Reese had to do everything he could to keep smiles on the faces of his Dad and his Uncle Ron. To make their suffering worse, Uncle Ron took ill and had to be admitted to the hospital.  They ruled out that he had a heart blockage but the Ozark Mountain Doctor Daredevils weren’t sure what was wrong, and, as is often so with the human health care system, when doctors don’t know what’s wrong, they send you home. Uncle Ron and Reese’s Dad were both catching up on sleep while Reese dutifully watched over Uncle Ron.  Feeling hungry Uncle Ron got up for some lunch.  Apparently he got up too qu

Dear Aunt Foley:  There is a particular cat in my neighborhood who I hate.  When I am on my  walk, and I see this kitty, who, for some reason just sits and stares at me, I lose it.  I am a very peace loving dog but the kitty gets under my fur.   What is it about this particular cat that sets me off? - Sushi Dear Sushi:  It is natural for us dogs to dislike cats.  This goes back to our origins.  We are descended from wolves, cats are descended from lynx, and, if nature is proven, the lynx would totally kick our asses.  We are pack animals, hunting in a group, and, if a group of us cornered one of them, well we would rip that thing apart, but, one on one, the vicious little lynx would claw us to death. As we evolved our teeth stayed sharp, and we maintained our size when we became domesticated, while the cats claws became less sharp, and they grew smaller, so, when we attack cats we are just getting back at them for the pain inflicted upon us by lynx throughout history.  All you wan

Last week I was lucky to have no friends come to the Bridge, but this week, sadly, I had two.  I went from a no header to a double header.  One we knew was coming, and one was shocking, but both were very sad. The first was the shocking one.  We had not heard from our friend Totti from Hong King for awhile.  I so enjoyed his blogs.  He lived in an exotic part of the world and taught us so much about life on the other side of the planet. Totti and Foxy were two treasured friends, and even if many months passed without hearing from them, it was always a treat to see them on our blog page. We had no indication that Totti was on his way.  After swearing him in I asked him what had happened and he said he had an ordinary upset stomach for a few days, the vet came to his house to visit (he really does live on the other side of the world) and ran some tests, but didn’t think it was serious.  On Monday Totti’s tummy was bad and his Mommy came home to make him some ground

I have often been described as barking mad, but now I am really barking mad.  If I was still on the mortal side of the Bridge I would be sniffing butts and taking names but now I have to rely on my dull minded sisters to right the horrible wrong that has been done to me. I learned that local pet stores have stolen my name in an attempt to cash in on my fame.  I blocked their attempts to link themselves with me for profit while living on the mortal side, but shortly over six months after passing to the immortal side, they have made their move, hoping to attract the parents of Foley Wanna Bes with this. While I would not mind having my Little Monsters create and wear their own Monster shirts and jackets in tribute I do not like the big box stores owned by massive companies making money on my friends. It was time for a dream meeting with my lawyers River and Pocket Esquires.  I went down, plucked them from their dreams, and brought them to my cloud office.  I sh

Dear Aunt Foley:  Who is St Patrick and why do we celebrate his day?  Confused Irish Terrier. Dear Confused Irish Terrier:  St Patrick was a wonderful man who helped the people of Ireland very much but again, what the humans are telling you is incorrect.  The story is that he led the snakes out of Ireland.  What is it with humans and snakes?  Those poor slithery bastards get blamed for everything. The truth is that there never were any snakes in Ireland.  St Patrick lead dogs across the seas and into Ireland.  Before St Patrick stepped up there were no dogs in Ireland and he traveled the world to bring dogs to his homeland. The first place he looked was Amsterdam where he found the Knickerbocker Hound.  He made it appear like a chicken, snuck it on a boat, and brought it to Ireland where it was renamed the Celtic Hound.  His next trip was to the Bay of Bengal where he discovered, and smuggled out, the Bay of Bengal Terrier and, upon reaching Ireland, named him the Glen of Imaal

I don’t like to complain, and frankly, when you take a job like Judge at Rainbow Bridge you assume you are going to be weary for an eternity, but, with all the friends I have recently had to swear in, I have been exhausted.  So I am so happy this week to celebrate a friend who won’t be visiting me anytime soon. But he still managed to give all of us quite a scare.  A few weeks ago Presley’s Mom noticed a lump on the inside of his front leg.  It wasn’t like a bug bite or a fatty tumor.  It was the type of thing that makes a Mom go “oh crap.”  His Mom took him to his vet but the doctor wasn’t as impressed with the growth as his Mom was.  The vet suggested it was something minor that needed to be monitored.  She made an appointment with Tag and Atlas’ old vet.  He was more impressed and did a needle biopsy that showed it was a pre-cancerous tumor.  He scheduled a surgery to remove it and prescribed several anxiety attacks for his poor Mom.  She asked for prayers that t

Foley told me I needed to have an adventure so off I went to Russia to check out the Chachi Olympics.   I was able to get an open media pass, because no one from the dog blogging community had claimed one.  I had to wear it around my neck at all times so I would not be confused with a stray dog.  When I got into my hotel room it was furnished poorly, dimly lit, overcrowded, hot and the water was yellow.  If there were more people in walkers i would have sworn I was back in Florida. I decided if I was going to make a splash with my first big adventure I had to get the big interview of the Olympics:  Vladimir Putin.  It being the Chachi Olympics I e-mailed Scott Baio and asked him to set up the interview but the little punk ignored me so I contacted The Fonz because Chachi always did what he said, and soon Putin’s people were calling me for an appointment. I trekked over to his villa overlooking the mud mountain where the skiers skidded downhill.  I kept my credentials around my nec