Tommy Tunes is our August 31, 2014 Pup of the Week

On Thursday I got a message that a new pup was arriving at the Bridge..  I went to my spot at the top of the stairs and looked down waiting for somepup to start climbing.  Then the wind began to blow, the ground shook under my feet, birds flew out of the trees, the Bridge itself swung like it was caught in a mighty breeze. Then I heard the cries from the mortal side, like thunder in the distant, but high pitched, and mourning.  “No?” “Why?”  “Please don’t let it be true!”   I did not know what had happened, but I knew that something big had been moved.

I went into the crouch position I used when scared.  When I arose I felt a paw on my shoulder and looked up to see the big thing that had been moved:  Tommy Tunes.  I don’t know why, because he was with me, and what had happened to him had happened to me, but I burst into tears, for him, for his Dad Steve, for everyone on the mortal side of the Bridge.  They had lost something big indeed.

Tommy patted me on the head.  “It’s OK Foley.  I know there is great sadness on the mortal side.   I know my Dad’s heart is broken.  So is mine.  But we all have only so many heartbeats, and I got more than anyone I know.  I was blessed with so much time with my Dad.  Everyday I got up and thanked the Big Guy that I was the luckiest dog on the face of the Earth with the best Dad and the best friends.  Now that it is over I have many friends here.”

I told him I hadn’t noticed him climbing the stairs.  “Oh I didn’t have to.  A hand picked my up and carried me here.”  I had never heard of such a thing.  But then I remember.  He was Tommy Tunes.  He and his Dad were always the first:  The first friend a dog had on DS, the first with a kind word to a sick pup, our first laugh of the day, the first with a tribute to a dog who had passed over.  He deserved special treatment.

I told him I needed to swear him in but he said it wasn’t necessary.  When you are a dog as well known for his good deeds as he was there is no swearing in process.  Of course I was sworn in, but that’s cool.  Tommy did so much.

I hope the people who run DS know that.   Tommy was exclusively on DS.  No Facebook, Tanner Brigade, or any other site.  He was like Streisand playing Vegas.  You wanted to see him you needed to go to one place:  DS.  As someone said before he was Doggyspace.   More than Zuckerberg is Facebook.  The biggest reason to check DS everyday is now on the immortal side  of life.  (Then again I have been here for 14 months and written more than John Grisham in that time.)

I told Tommy that the next step was for him to get fitted for his wings.  Suddenly they popped out of his back.  “No fitting needed,” he said.  “They said they have had them ready for years.  They are outlined with gold because of the wonderful love I shared on Earth, how are your wings?”  I tucked my plain wings further behind me and smiled, then changed the subject telling him we should go to his cloud.

We both flew up to it.  I had never seen a first time angel fly so gracefully.  He was headed to the biggest cloud in the sky. I tried to catch up to tell him those were off limits, but he flew through the cloud and into the most expansive mansion I had ever seen.  I landed next to him.  “Tommy, I don’t think we should be here,” I said.

Then I saw the big oil painting of him and his father over the mantle and I knew he was in the right place.  My claws tapped on the marble floor.  I rubbed against the silk curtains.  Tommy went around the corner and said “cool” then came back with some freshly popped pop corn.  He gave me some.  “How big is your pop corn popper?” he asked.

“Oh big, real big,” I said nodding.  Actually it was a microwave I got at Sears.  On the opposite wall from the painting was the largest wide screen television I had ever seen. Before he became engrossed watching something I suggested we go down to the river, look in the waves, and watch his Dad and Freddie Girl.

“Oh I don’t need to do that,” he said.  He nosed the remote and turned on the TV.  A live view of his Dad sitting with Freddie Girl came on.  Tommy sighed deeply and put his head between his paws.  A slight tear fell from his eye.  It was very moving but I could not get past my jealousy that I had a small screen TV and had to go down to the river to see my loved ones in the waves.

Then I heard his doorbell.  It sounded like church bells ringing.  I didn’t move to answer.  There must be a butler.  But no one came and I told Tommy I would get the door.   When I answered it I felt like such a fool.  This was why Tommy lived in the most special place at the Bridge with so many privileges, this is why his Dad will join him here someday, this was why he deserved all the rewards he had received and more.

It was Gina Busch and Pepsi.  For those who don’t know Gina was Freddie Girl’s first Mom who crossed the river after getting cancer (Pepsi had preceded her a few weeks earlier.)  Gina ran across the marble floor to the couch where she kissed Tommy over and over again, thanking him for saving Freddie Girl, and Pepsi, who gave me a lick (we see each other almost every day) went over and gave Tommy a big hug too. Then the three of them sat on the couch eating pop corn and watching Freddie Girl and Steve on the wide screen TV.

I no longer felt any jealousy over Tommy’s reward.  He deserved all of it, and more, for Freddie, for friendship, for love, for humor, for caring, for being a brother to a thousand dogs.  I slipped out of the house and went back to my modest, clean, well lit cloud, pulled out my decree pad and did something not even Tommy could do.  I wrote out an order that all humans must follow,

Tomorrow, on DS, I am creating a group called the DS Hall of Fame and the first dog inducted will be Tommy Tunes.  I will let the humans work out how they want to nominate and vote on other members but I ask that they let time pass first.  Tommy should be the only member for a few months.  It is only fitting, because he was the Babe Ruth, the Beatles, Michael Jordan, and Joe Montana of DS, all rolled into one..

Simply the best.

“Beautiful Reward” by Bruce Spingsteen

Well I sought gold and diamond rings

My own drug to ease the pain that living brings

Walked from the mountain to the valley floor

Searching for my beautiful reward

Searching for my beautiful reward

From a house on a hill a sacred light shines

I walk through these rooms but none of them are mine

Down empty hallways I went from door to door

Searching for my beautiful reward

Searching for my beautiful reward

Well your hair shone in the sun

I was so high I was the lucky one

Then I came crashing down like a drunk on a barroom floor

Searching for my beautiful reward

Searching for my beautiful reward

Tonight I can feel the cold wind at my back

I'm flyin' high over gray fields my feathers long and black

Down along the river's silent edge I soar

Searching for my beautiful reward

Searching for my beautiful reward

Ask Aunt Foley

(This blog was mostly written before we heard of Tommy’s passing.  We dedicate this blog to Tommy and the best dog Dad we know, his Dad Steve.)

Dear Aunt Foley: What the hell?  So one Dad makes a minor mistake and a dog steps into a grate and now all Dads are bad dog parents?  I know lots of Dads who are great dog parents, and are raising their dogs on their own.  I think you owe them an apology or you are going to get the reputation as an anti-Daddite - Katie

 

Dear Katie:  Oh boy, I really opened a can of garlic with my last Ask Aunt Foley.  I certainly did not mean to dismiss the love and care that so many Dads give their dogs.  There is such a long list of great Dads I could not list them here but they include your Dad, Reese’s Dad, Hobo’s Dad, Tommy Tunes’ Dad, Leo’s Dad, Stamford’s Dad, and even my own Dad.

Just from my own experience I can tell you how great Dads are.  Daddy took me for my walks, got up with me in the middle of the night when I needed to go outside, cleaned up my accidents, snuggled with me, played with me, and treated me like his little princess.  And most of all he takes care of my Mom and works to make the kibble.

And there are Dads out there like Reese’s Dad who don’t even have a Mom in the house.  I think being a single pup parent is hard, and even harder when you are a male (although he receives ample support from Reese’s Uncle R.)  And when you are Reese’s Dad, well,Reese does come with his own set of problems, being an intact pittie with no regard for safety when nature calls.

Years ago on the mortal side of the Bridge I stopped a kitty from going into her house and the next thing I knew there were kitties picketing my house and I was called anti-kitty which could not be further from the truth unless they sat on my deck which truthfully pissed me off to no end.  I was vindicated later on when it was proved the kitty didn’t belong in the house but there shall be no vindication this time (and the last thing I need is a bunch of sweaty men picketing Mommy’s house.)

So please all of your with wonderful Dads, accept my sincerest apologies for not recognizing their love, warmth and generosity.  I shall never make that mistake again.

Wordless Wednesday

A Crappy Weekend By Pocket Dog

How was your weekend?  Mine was pretty crappy, most of it coming out of my butt.  And it was crappy for Mommy and Daddy who became very worried about what was coming out of my butt.  Heck it was even crappy for River who, for the first time in her life was thrust into the role of caring sister, and did a good job.

As many of you know, I am a very nervous dog.  When I get nervous things in my lower end turn to liquid, and when it does I become like a leaky faucet, if your faucet was hooked up to the sewer line.  

Last Wednesday Mommy and Daddy rearranged the living room so their chairs were closer together and Mommy was facing the TV without having to turn her cranky neck.   There was some, what I would term tension between Mommy and Daddy over cleaning the floors, and that tension turned my bottom end innards to water.  This lasted a couple of days.

On Sunday Mommy turned on the stove to make Daddy breakfast.  I hate the stove.  It’s electric and it beeps.  Last year one of our smoke alarms began beeping and I didn’t react well at all.  Ever since then I have been very sensitive to beeping sounds.  On Sunday the stove beeping sent me over the edge turning everything in my body to liquid.

It started out as my normal nervous diarrhea but my system was so sensitive that everything in me wanted to come out.  Then something happened that scared my Mom very much.  I was straining so hard that cherry red blood started to drip out of me.  It felt like my entire insides was throbbing.  Mommy and Daddy googled what to do and saw:  PANIC! so they did.

They called the emergency vet who told them to keep an eye on me, that I wasn’t in any imminent danger, and to take me to my usual vet in the morning.   I still had the runs at night, but the blood stopped.  And it is here that I have to give a shout out to my sister.  At 2:30 AM I woke up and had to poo.  I got out of bed, went to the pee pads, and left a poo puddle.  I am too small to jump into bed so all I could do was just sit on the floor and look sad.  River saw me, woke Daddy up, and he picked me up and brought me back to bed.  So thank you River, that was very sweet of you

In the morning we were off to the vet first thing.  I wasn’t crazy about this because I got my appetite back but I knew it would make Mommy and Daddy feel better if I went to the vet.  I soon regretted it.  I got a thermostat up the butt and had a slight fever.  Then the vet took me away and stuck a needle in me for blood.  Finally the vet gave me a shot to make me feel better and told my nervous parents she would call the next day with the lab results.

When I got home I still had the runs, leaving a big puddle behind Mommy’s recliner.  I had another little puddle shortly after that, and since then my system has been down which I am told is a good thing.

This morning the vet called to say my bloodwork came back normal and she thinks I suffer from stress colitis.  With medication I should be back to my normal self in a few days.  Mommy and Daddy are not going to give me any mediation for my nervous condition but try to treat it naturally by keeping me out of stressful situations, thunder shirt, and some natural remedies..  So dinner time means walks time (or a drive if it’s raining.)

Thank you to all the Facebook Moms who helped our Mom through Sunday and Monday with great advice and to our DS and TB friends for their many prayers.

I love you all and I am dedicating my first firm stool to all of you.

Love you and thank you.

Max and Raider are our August 24, 2014 Pups of the Week

I knew this day was coming.  As I have written before all dogs have only so many heartbeats, and they are never enough.  I knew Max’s song was ending soon.  His brother’s arrival two weeks before was a terrible shock but Max….well,  he was expected.

And now he was coming.  When I got to the top of the stairway leading from the Bridge his brother Tupper was already there.  He silently nodded at me.  He was being a good angel, observing proper protocol, but I promptly broke it, gave him a hug, and licked a tear from beneath his eye.  

Max waited to be sworn in, which I did quickly, and then he had Tupper hugged.

“How is Mommy?” Tupper asked.  Max just sadly shook his head.  They hugged again and there were more tears than even my curved tongue could clean.  They let go of one another and Max asked what was expected of him next.  There were wings to be fitted, a cloud to be found, the reams of unnecessary paper work to be filled out, but that could wait.  I motioned them over to a tree so we could sit and talk.

“You’re passing was so hard on Mom,” Max said.  “I don’t know if she will survive my passing.”

“She will,” I assured them. “I have sworn in thousands of dogs who have left heartbroken Moms behind, and all those Moms have recovered, including my own.”

“But the two of us so close together,” Tupper said shaking his yellow head.

“It wasn’t fair,” Max agreed.  We sat in silence for a minute then Max asked “Why do you think they do it?”

“Do what?” I asked Max.

“Let us dogs live with them.  When we pass over we cause them so much misery.”

I thought this over.  “But when we live with them we bring them such joy.”

“But is it enough joy to make up for how much hurt we cause when we go?” Tupper asked.

I thought about this some more.  “I think we are like the dutch boy with his finger in the dyke,” I said.

“The who with his what in a where?: Tupper asked.

“There is a story about the dutch boy who saw a hole in the dyke.  The dyke was filled with water.  If the hole wasn’t fixed the town would flood.  So he put his finger in the dyke stopping the flood.  Us dogs, we are the finger, and the water, that’s all the pain and suffering in the world, and our Moms are the town, and when we are gone all that pain and suffering overwhelms them.”

The brothers thought this over.  “Or like in the Catcher in the Rye.  You know how Holden wanted to catch the kids before they fell off the ledge.  We are like that with our Moms,” Max said.

Max was surprisingly well read.

“We live too short a life,” Tupper said.

“Or humans live too long” I said. “They live about 24 more years than they did 100 years ago, that’s like three more lost dogs.”

“That’s a lot of suffering,” Max said

We heard the sound of a dog clearing his throat and looked over to see Raider standing there.

“Jesus Christ!” I said, stunned.  Then realized my mistake and said “No, no  Jesus Christ, not paging Jesus Christ.  Cancelling the page.”

We ran over to Raider who told us that his human form could no longer sustain him on the mortal side of life and his mother helped him to cross the Bridge.  After being sworn in he joined our conversation.

“I don’t think my Mom would change having my in her life for anything,” Raider said.  “I know how much she loved me and I felt terrible when I left her.  We were both sobbing. Plus your Moms were lucky, they had other dogs, my Mom is all alone.”

We sadly thought about this.  There is nothing worse than being a dogless Mom. I suggested we go down to the River of Life.  When we got there Raider caught his Mom in a wave and he pawed at her, then lay down on the grass and let out a soft whimper.

I sighed. “I went to see this play,” I said.  “It was by some guy named Shakespeare.  He is writing plays for dogs now.  He says they are much easier to work with than humans.  In the play he said it is better to have love and lost a dog than to never have loved a dog before.  I think he’s right.”

“So what can we do to help our Moms?” Raider asked.

“We can’t fix their broken hearts,” I, the most experienced said.  “I don’t know if you were alive on September 11, 2001 but bad men knocked down two big buildings in New York.  Those big buildings, like our Mom’s heart, could never be replaced, but they built a great big strong building where it once was.  When your Mom is ready, you will help her find a new dog.  It won’t help replace the destroyed building that is your Mom’s heart, but the new dog will help her build a new strong building there.  People admire the new building, but never forget the old.”

They all nodded.  “I hope that day comes soon for my Mom,” Raider said.  “I hate her being alone.”

I gave him a pat on his head.  “She will.  She is a wonderful dog Mom.  One of the best.  And there are so many dogs out there who need a good home.  When she’s ready you will connect them, and they will start to rebuild their new tower of love.  Then some day she will join you here but until then there are millions of things to do here, so many things you can’t even imagine, and you will love all of them.”

“Why are there so many things?” Max asked.

“To keep us from thinking about how much we miss our [parents.”  All three dogs nodded, then Tupper took Max with him to show him their new cloud and meet some old friends.  Radar, who I befriended the first day I joined Doggyspace, stayed near me.  Even though he was a New York dog he was a big Red Sox fan and he asked me, since we were angels, if we could fix them.

“I think so,” I said to him as we walked into the perpetually setting sun.

“How about the Raiders?” he inquired about the team he was named for.

“We’re Angels,” I told him, “not miracle workers.”

And together we slowly left the grass and walked in the air towards the sun.

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley: The other day I was on a walk with my Dad.  I was doing my usual walk stuff, looking around, sniffing, turning my head at any sound.  Like all dogs we trust our humans to watch where we are going.  Unfortunately Daddy wasn’t really paying attention to where we were walking and he took me over a stormdrain.  My leg went right through one of the rectangular drains and then I fell sideways.  My Daddy had to lift me out.  Whose fault was this?  Clint

Dear Clint:  For generations us dogs roamed the world without a leash carefully watching every step and we never fell in a grate and got stuck.  Then we got our calling to become man’s angels and we moved in with them.  Man, being genetically mistrusting, put a rope on us so we didn’t run away from them.

Once that happened we made a pact with them. We would let them put the leash on us and walk us but they had to watch where we were going.  We would spend our time smelling the flowers, looking at the sky, checking out any vermin that needed chasing and any old friends who may be outside.

Well your father went and broke that agreement when  he let you fall in the drain.  It was his duty to make sure you did not get stuck.  I think there is only one thing that can be done here.  You Dad needs to put on a leash and look around while you hold the leash in your mouth.  Then we can see what you guide him to to leave him with a hurt leg.

Although, from what I hear from my sources on the human book, your Mommy has much worse planned for your Dad.  An important rule of paw is to remember that Mommies are very good at concentrating on us and Daddies aren’t good at concentrating on anything that doesn’t have a ball involved for more than ten seconds so when you are being walked by your Mom enjoy the walk and when you are being walked by your Dad look out below.

Wordless Wednesday

Aran is our August 17, 2014 Pup of the Week

With so many prayers that need to be flown up the mountain last week I forgot to mention Aran, whom I will get to in a moment, but I want to take a second to thank the Big Guy for so many answered prayers, and to ask him to keep praying for Barnum, who has a very serious liver condition and needs daily prayers.

Aran’s problems started as quietly as a summer cold: A few sneezes, watery eyes, those things we expect to pass with time.  Even though he was eating and playing as usual his condition didn't pass in time and it made his Mom scared and worried.  Being a Mom of great experience she sensed Aran was acting more clingy than usual.  As his Mom so eloquently said “The worst part of being a pet parent is that you can't ask them what's wrong.”  

The news from the vet was worse than expected. It was neither allergies or a cold, but an indentation in her head.  Indentation in your head is not a diagnoses anyone, human or pup, wants to hear.  Somehow Aran was losing muscle around her skull due to nerve damage and one eyes was smaller than the other.  What such a diagnosis means is “we don’t know what’s wrong, more testing is needed” and that sucks.

Aran was given an ointment for her eyes and several pricks so the vet could get some blood.  The vet told her Mom the best thing to do was to look Aran in the eye.  If she had trouble blinking or if her eye became swollen more extensive tests would be needed and, like most of us, when it comes to bad things, we don’t want anything that might be needed.  

During all the pricking, prodding and pushing Aran was a very good girl.  She even let a bright light be shined in her eyes.  She was such a good girl I think it added to the prayers us angels rushed up the mountain to the big guy.

When the blood and urine work came back everything was good but she was diagnosed with unilateral massetera.  The poor baby got diagnosed with something none of us angels had ever heard of.  She was experiencing muscle loss due to nerve damage and is going to have to see a neurologist.  Her Mom is hoping the ointment for her eyes will stops the itching but at some point an expensive MRI, more tests and more bills will be on the way.

Despite Aran’s obscure diagnosis she is not showing any signs of discomfort.  The weeks ahead are going to be hard on our friend and her Mom and us angels need to get loaded up with prayers to bring to the Big Guy for her.

So please, send me your prayers, and we will keep them going until whatever is wrong with Aran is cured and he gives her Mom no more worries.

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley:  Last Wednesday I was in the kitchen, minding my own business.  There was a roasted chicken on the dining room table.  That chicken must not have been all the way dead because it got up and walked off the table then fell on the floor.   I know dead chickens should not be walking around on the floor so I picked it up in my mouth and killed it for sure.  Then Mom and Grandmom came in, found the chicken in my mouth, and blamed me for knocking the chicken off the table.  How do I prove my innocence? - Paco

Dear Paco:  Oh your Mom and your Grandmom owe you a big apology.  I have heard of these things before and know what happened.  The chicken was dead, but it came back to life.  What your Mom had on her dining room table was a zombie chicken.

Zombie chickens are very dangerous.  A zombie chicken ankle bite can be deadly for a human.  I must admit most dogs I know would have run away and hid but not you Paco.  You picked up the zombie chicken, shook it, and killed it.  And what thanks did you get?

Your Mommy and Grandmom blamed you for knocking the chicken on the ground and yelled at you.  It wasn’t done because they don‘t love you or don’t trust you but because the zombie chickens give off a force field that make humans unable to consider their existence.

But for the rest of us we would like to thank you for your selfless act.  You very well could have saved us all.  I ask all my friends on the mortal side of the Bridge to check any chicken brought into the house and if it smells like juicy chicken it is probably zombie chicken so get it in your mouth and kill it immediately.  Once the mainstream media begins covering the zombie chicken crises you will be thanked.

Wordless Wednesday

Pocket's Kitty Infestation

Here at the Village of the Pruned it is rather cramped.  We have about five feet of property on either side of us, someone living behind us, and a road in front of us.  We don’t mind at all, especially since before we lived here we lived in a condo where humans pass by our window causing us a great deal of unrest and barking.

One good thing being cramped in here is that there are never any critters around:  No cats bothering our bird friends, no squirrels eating their food.

Until this week.  We have two big fern trees in our yard and this week I was sure there was something hiding under them.  My suspicions were further raised when I saw the remnants of one of my bird friends, nothing but feathers.  I suspected we had a cat infiltration.

I kept pulling Daddy towards the fern trees when he took me out.  Finally he let me stick my little head under there  He was nervous because, while he didn’t think there was anything under there, if there was something it could be dangerous, but he trusted me to handle myself, and himself to pull me out of trouble before injury.

That’s when I saw it, hidden deep under the tree, a kitty!  I barked and it took off running around the house. I gave as much chase as a Yorkie on a retractable leash can, and it beat it’s little paws out of my yard.

So, after a period of peace the Yorkie vs Kitty war has started again with the Kitty crossing the border into my yard and attacking my birdie allies.  Now, every time I drag Daddy out because I have to pee I must check my fern tree to make sure my border has not been breached.

I promise to stay vigilant against the invading Kitty hoard, unless they get a rocket launcher, that is more River’s area of expertise.

Pups in Need of Prayers Are Our August 10, 2014 Pup of the Week

This has been quite a week for prayers and I have been doing all I can to get them all answered positively but unfortunately not every prayer is answered positively and, as I found out this week, some prayers are not answered at all.

First there was Dasiy Mae.

 She had a seizure that may have been caused by heat stroke.  I flew up with the prayers requests and, by the time I got back I learned those prayers were answered because Daisy was improving.  But then I got another…..request.  It came from Hattie Mae.  Hattie doesn’t pray so much as she issues demands and her demand was that she be able to check on her friend Daisy.  While both their Moms are on the Internet they weren’t on sites that connected.  I didn’t take this one to the big guy.  If you think I get upset at him you haven’t seen anything like Hattie Mae.  I relied on my friends Lily and Ben and thanks to them Daisy and Hattie has a wonderful reunion.

Then there is Hagan, who I requested prayers for last week.

 He had contracted a disease that caused his immune system to attack his own blood cells.  He went through a very dire time but thanks your prayers his vet was able to get his blood levels normal enough so he could go home.  He still needs prayers:  His immune system became compromised when the doctors stopped it from killing his blood cells, and he picked up an infection, but he is home, with his Mom, and is getting better.  

There were lots of prayers for Apple this week.  

He got a bad case of tummy trouble and womited all over the house.  With some dietary changes (no more beef or fish which were affecting his liver issues) he is back to eating and digesting normally.

And then there is our old friend Petey.

Last week his Mom thought he was starting to suffer from dementia but Petey seemed to have a senior moment day and he was back to his old self in time to celebrate his 16th birthday

Angel Apollo came to me directly with prayers for his brother Czar Bishop.

He had not eaten for several days and was very lethargic.  Apollo and I brought the prayers up to the Big Guy directly.  When we flew down we found out that Czar would be OK, and we could not help but remark on the irony of miracles.  When I first met Apollo he had been poisoned by some evil neighbors.  Luckily he recovered.  Czar Bishop had been poisoned too, this time accidentally.  A farmer friend of Czar’s family had used boron to aid his chick pea crop.  He then fed the chick peas to the turkeys and the turkey to Czar Bishop who got boron poisoning.   The vet flushed the boron from his system and prayers are needed that Czar Bishop’s kidneys were not permanently damaged.

I even had to ask for prayers for Pocket because she has an upset tummy.  Mommy asked me special to pray for her. I told her that Pocket has tummy trouble when butterflies startle her and she will recover without prayers.  But she’s my Mom so I flew up the mountain and apologized to the big guy with my small prayer request.

“There are no small requests,” the Big Guy told me.  “I either rule yes, no, or not worthy.”

“Not worthy?” I asked.

“Yes, last night alone I got 785,327 prayers about an exhibition football game.  Sorry, not my department.  And neither is who will win a reality television show, although I must say that Zach from Big Brother is a tremendous tool and I have thought about smotting hin and I haven’t smotted since Moses’s time.  Now run along, and remember how many times I have answered your prayers in the affirmative.

And our prayers for Pocket were answered in the affirmative, as many have been, but there is one pup we have been praying for who I fear won’t be receive a yes answer.

I wrote about Barnum last week.

 This week his Mom learned that he has a enlarged liver and there is a 90 percent chance it is cancer.  We are going to need more prayers than we got for the other pups combined for Barnum, and the answer could still be no.

I wasn’t friends with Barnum when I was on the mortal side of life despite the fact that he lives closer to me than all other dogs on the Internet.  My Mom and Dad, with River and Pocket, got to meet Barnum and his sibling Bailey at Miss Laura’s house last fall and they all had a delightful time.  I was quite jealous that I did not get to meet them.  Now I don’t want to meet him at the Bridge for a long time.  

I am trying to use that to Barnum’s advantage.  I told the big guy that I never met Barnum’s acquataince on Earth and did not wish to do so now.  I said I just didn’t like the cut of his jib although I am quite sure he has a perfectly lovely jib.  It was a desperate measure but I thought the situation called for it.  But again I was dismissed with a wave of the hand.

We all know what pup prayers can do.  Let’s put them all to use and see if we can get a miracle for Barnum.

The Downside to Birthdays by River Song

I recently celebrated my second birthday.  I would like to thank everyone who made it a special day.  I am so lucky to have such great friends.  I got a spa day on my birthday and got to party with the Griffons at the groomers.  They are always fun.  But there is something most unwelcome that comes with each birthday.

The trip to the vet.  

It was a normal Thursday.  Daddy put Pocket in her crate and Mommy picked me up.  We went outside and got into the car.  Knowing my birthday was coming up I was thinking: Ice cream?  Dog park?  Hamburger?

Nope, just an anal probe.

We drove into the vet’s parking lot.  I had only been here once and I vaguely remembered it.  I was sniffing for ice cream and thought I got a whiff of anti-septic ice cream but when I got inside I knew there would be no ice cream.

The first thing they did was weigh me.  I have been taught by Foley that whenever I am being forced to do something don’t cooperate under any circumstances.  When I got on the scale I got a severe case of wiggle butt.  So I weigh anywhere between five and 11 pounds.

Then I was brought into an examining room.  Mommy held me close to her and whispered nice things in my ear.  When you are home that means she loves you. When are are somewhere else that means she’s nervous and you are about to get screwed.

A side door opened and the screwer came in.  She was a nice woman with a white lab coat  They put me on a tiny, shiny table and at first I thought everything would be OK.  She held me and rubbed me checking me over.  She looked at my eyes and teeth and she put some soft round thing on my chest to make sure it was beating.  And then she went behind me and HEY THERE!

“It’s just a little prick,” the vet said.  I remembered the last time I heard that I ended up with a litter of puppies. I tried to get off the table but an assistant grabbed me (the enforcer) while my Mommy sweetly told to me cooperate (my pimp) while I received two more little pricks from the vet (my john.)

Then I was done, it took less than two minutes.  It was all very familiar, and very unpleasant. A few days later I had my birthday filled with wonderful friends wishing me well and it made everything I went through worth it and I want to thank all my friends who made my birthday wonderful.

I can’t wait until next year.  But I hope to do it without the little pricks.

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley:  This week my Dad took me into the gigantic water container they have in their backyard for some unknown reason.  They put this jacket on me, and then Daddy held me while I splashed around.  What’s up with that? - Scooter.

Dear Scooter:  When I was a younger dog I thought the large water container was an emergency stash for the zombie apocalypse because everyone knows that when zombies strike they hit the water department first to sap our vital resources (and if they don’t they should because it’s a wicked good plan.)   But then I wondered why they would assume the zombies would only attack between June and September and cover the water container up the rest of the time.  That’s when it came to me, they used to pool to cool off when the weather got hot.

Actually it is a pretty good idea, as I think it must be very expensive to build an ocean outside your house.  I am sure humans love it.   And, like all things that humans love, they want to share it with us (unless it is alcohol or chocolate, the two forbidden zones.)

So you got to go in the pool.  I am sure it was very scary at first especially for tiny dogs like us who aren’t very good at pushing off the bottom of the pool and rising to the top.  But your parents knew that so they put the jacket on you so you can float.  It is very much what it’s like to be up here with the angels flying from cloud to cloud.

So the pool is a little bit of heaven on Earth.  Except it’s a lot wetter .  And you are basically swimming around in a pool of human filth.  But you do get to be with them, it’s safe, it’s fun, and you get to cool off on a hot day.

So enjoy the pool my friend,  just never go in without your Mommy and your jacket.  Humans love to share what they love with us but they are not too crazy about us enjoying it on our own.