The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Dear Aunt Foley:  Why did God create fleas?  We hate those things - Tashi, Tiara, and Trixie. Dear Tashi, Tiara and Trixie:  Among the many lessons I have learned on the immortal side of life is that all beings, even fleas, have a reason to live.  But the reason why is only known by the wisest and oldest of our inhabitants, who live high up in the mountains.  To get your answer I packed some kibble and some water then began to climb high above the River. It took me a few hours to get to the top of the mountain and I entered the cave where the wise man sat.  I stopped to drink some water and then I stood before him and asked why we have fleas.  He explained to me that fleas have an important role in nature.  They balance life.  If there are too many of any species then the fleas carry diseases to help reduce the number of that specie.  Without the flea one specie could eradicate all others. Having received your answer I turned and prepared to start my journey back down the mounta

We are getting back in the swing of things when it comes to garden supervision.  River wrote about the entire buggy incident but I want to tell you what happened afterwards and the return of Orkie the Yorkie. We first met Orkie two years ago.  Foley and I were on a walk when this little Yorkie ran up to us, as bold as can be, setting off a three way Yorkie barking exhibition.  Daddy gathered Orkie in his arms, brought us home, and then spent a half hour knocking on doors until he found the owner  Daddy explained to Orkie that there were lots of bad things that could happen to little dogs alone on the street.  Orkie promised to never run away again. But Orkie wasn’t much of a listener or a promise keeper.  It took more than a year but after a day of garden supervising, at the end the walk we got as reward for doing a good job, I heard a barking, and saw Orkie running towards me.  “Hi Pocket, how have you been?” she asked. I told her I was fine, and introduced her to River.

I must admit that before I crossed the River of Life I had visited Rainbow Bridge before.  My Boston Terrier friends, McKinsie, Promise, Megan, would visit me in my dreams and take me to the Bridge, which helped me greatly when I made my journey I have very important things to do as a Judge here but when I get my playtime I enjoy spending lots of it with McKinsie, Promise and Megan, and sometimes, in their dreams, the rest of their pack joins us.  I enjoy the balance of who amongst the Boston Terrier pack is here, and who is on the other side of the Bridge.  But now the balance has been upset as Brooklyn is in very serious condition and in need of many prayers. It started during an innocent day of play.  Much like my sister Pocket Brooklyn loves to chase balls.  Brooklyn was playing with her brother Parker when they both went for the ball and crashed mid-air.  Brooklyn was knocked unconscious for over five minutes.  When she did come around her eyes didn’t seem right.  But B

Dear Aunt Foley:  What is up with humans and spring cleaning?  The Girls Dear Girls:  Personally, I never understood what was up with humans and cleaning.  I think a messy house is a house that shows how much humans love their dogs.  But my Mom was a big fan of the cleaning.  Daddy used to tell her you can’t have a sparkling clean house and two dogs but she still has not given up her quest. Since I can’t answer why they clean I can’t tell you why they want to do more of it in the spring.  I guess it’s because they are starting to tend to the gardens and the lawns, cleaning them, and decide to do the house too, but wouldn’t it make more sense doing it in November when they don’t have the lawn to do?   I have tried to explain human behavior to my friends but honestly, most of the time they remain a mystery Of course I know what prompted this question.  Like most dogs, when their parents clean, I am sure that you just curl up and watch with either a frustrated or bemused expression

I have been either living with humans, or observing them from above for a long time now, and one part of my human studies have been completed.  I can now state with 100% accuracy that the best way to measure a human is by how they treat their pets. Admittedly I cannot judge non pet owners.  There are some who don’t own pets because they can’t provide for them, and some poor souls have allergies and can’t have a pet, but almost all humans at some point have encountered  pets and I can use that evidence to make a partial decision of their righteousness. As I have written before us dogs are on Earth for one reason and that is to love and give comfort to humans.  A very high of percentage of dogs get that love back, but some are abused, and, although not as painful as abuse, some simply are ignored.  We have to share the love that is in our hearts, and if we are unable to, the pain eats away at our hearts as much as the loss of a loved one does. This happens to some of us after a ba

People ask me what I miss the most about life on the mortal side of the Bridge and of course I answer my Mom, then my Dad, and Pocket, and all my friends,  but honestly, the first thing that pops into my head is chicken. Oh how I loved chicken.  The smell, the taste, the texture.  Sure, we can get chicken up here, but since nothing really dies in the immortal life, it’s not real chicken.  It’s like pizza on the West Coast.  They call it pizza, but it’s not pizza.  We have chickens happily running around here, and man I would love to chop one of their heads off, rip out their guts, build a fire and roast those little suckers up, but it’s against all sorts of rules, and my understanding is it still wouldn’t taste like chicken. I don’t think I could stand to live in a world where there were real chickens and we weren’t able to eat them.  And yet my friend Molly has an allergic reaction to chicken.  And to make it worse she got to taste chicken, she knows how good it is, and then it t

Dear Aunt Foley:  Hi, I’m another young dog new to their home.  I have an embarrassing secret.  I am a victim of excitable pee.  When someone comes over the house, or something happens that gets my blood flowing, my pee flows too.  Is this normal?  What can I do about it?  Am I in danger of losing my new home?  - Lacey Dear Lacey:  I have heard of this a lot, in fact my sister Pocket still suffers from it.  But the term excitable peeing is not correct.  What you are actually suffering from is what is known as peeing praecox or prematures peeulation.  (This is also known as early peeing, rapid peeing, rapid urination, and premature pee-pee.) Although dogs who prematurely pee describe feeling that they have less control over peeing it is not clear if that is true.  Many if not most dogs report they wish they could last longer in between pees.   The causes of premature peeing are unclear.  Many theories have been suggested including that PP was the result of peeng quickly during ad

I know Foley has informed all of you that we have started gardening after a winter colder than the wicked witch’s underwear and longer than a James Franco text message to a 15 year old girl with references to a body part which he refers to as the Great and Powerful Oz.  I am just going to come right out and say it:  That dude freaks me out. Anyway, back to the garden.  My Mommy has a bad neck which is connected to her bad back which is connected to her bad spine which is connected to her bad hip which is connected to her bad legs which is connected to her had knee which lead to her bad feet.  The woman is bad. Foley has given us strict orders not to let Mommy overwork.   But on Monday the weather was cool, and the work was progressing without incident.  Pocket and I were chilling in the stroller, watching the pruned people walk by, the birds flying overhead, insects happily buzzing. We went past the two hour mark.  Daddy, who is also on strict orders from Foley decided, on his o

The British, and some Americans, refer to males as chaps.  “He’s a fine chap,” they say.  I don’t think I have ever heard anyone use “chap” in any other connotation other than describing an upstanding individual.  The term chap is derived from chapman, an old English term for an honest tradesman. When I first joined Doggyspace 7 years ago, on my very first day, I made three unique named friends from California:  12, Chappy and Whiskey.  Oh how those names rolled off the tongue.  12, Chappy and Whiskey:  Like Tinkers, to Evers, to Chance, or Crosby, Stills and Nash.   What wonderful, wise, kind, true friends they became.  In an illogical world we could find sage advice in the comments under their picture.  When we were down, they provided furry shoulders to cry on, paws to hold, and smiles.  They celebrated with us, played with us, prayed for us, and were our rocks.  We believed they would be with us forever. Their pack expanded.  There was first Fuzzy Bacon, whose time was bri

Dear Aunt Foley: You and I have never met but I have heard good things about you.  My name is Wylie.  For six years I lived with my Mommy but she got sick and had to go into the home and give me up.  Luckily I was adopted by a wonderful man and woman with a dog and several cats.  My probably is with the dog.  His name is Hobo Hudson and he is completely insane.  He seems to think that not only I, but the cats, and certain squirrels work for him and he spends each morning pouring over the “bone” market.  What is up with him?  Sincerely Wylie Hudson Dear Wylie:  I am sure you had a wonderful mother and that you took great care of her as she aged.  I am sorry that her health grew beyond your ability to care for her.  I am so happy you found a new home.  But you haven’t just found a home, you have found a home straight out of Willy Wonka:  A home of endless imagination.   Sure, there are places where the dog is the dog, sleeps in another room, doesn’t have any dog friends who live in

It is true in both human and dog life:  Friends drift in and out, but once a soul become a friend they are a friend for life and beyond..  I had noy barked at General Stonewall for a long time.  On my first go around at DS we did lots of barking, but, like lots of friends, we drifted apart, occasionally leaving a random comment on a blog.  But, despite the interaction, The General and I are still friends, so I was saddened to see him climbing th steps after crossing over the Bridge. I asked him what happened.  His sad eyes looked down at the Bridge and told me he was very worried about his Mom, who he loved very much.  They had over 17 years together  Stonewall had his share of health issues.  In the end it was his bones that literally let him down.  He couldn’t stand any longer, not even to pee. HIs Mom couldn’t bare to see him in pain, and she sent him to the Bridge, where his legs and spirit are young again, and he once again finds himself running happily through the fields.

We have a routine each Saturday morning.  Daddy gets up early because he has to go to work.  I get up with him.  He holds me while he does his bathroom business and brushes his teeth.  I like to lick the foam from the tooth brushing.  Then Daddy takes me outside and I do my business.  He brings me inside, gives me a treat, goes back into the bedroom and slips me under the covers while he gets donuts.  I get fifteen minutes of wonderful morning bed time without bladder pressure. Last Saturday, in just 15 minutes time, I got nice and snuggled on a warm spot.  I heard Daddy come in but I stayed where I was.  Please Daddy, just five more minutes.  He wrestled River out of bed.  He is forever wrestling River out of bed.  River would stay in bed all day if she could.  He took River outside, and after some stubborn shouting River did her business too. Mommy got out of bed to pee and I stayed in my snuggle spot.  Finally I had the big bed to myself.  In seconds I had fallen into a nice

Dear Aunt Foley:  I went for a walk with my parents the other day and I let them take me off the leash and then they got lost.  Is there anything that can be done with humans so they don’t wander off in the woods and get lost?  - Lou  ee Lou ee you must either always stay tethered to your parents or always keep them within your eye range.  Humans are only one bite away from becoming zombies. They are actually in a pre-zombie state.  They wander around aimlessly often tricked by the first thing that smells good. While you have the code of the jungle in your DNA that code is absent in your parents.  They are always getting stuck in bear traps, wandering into a lion’s den, rubbing butter and honey on their legs to block the sun in full view of a savage coyote.  They just cannot be left to their own devices in the wild. I know, as a dog, it is hard for you to ignore the scents that come by, or the sounds that you here.  Something goes off in your brain and you forget everything els