The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Dear Aunt Foley:  I have heard lots of people complain about the snow this year.  I don’t understand why.  I love it.  I could spend all day playing in it.  Why do people and pups hate snow so much?  Presley           Dear Presley:  I will address this in two parts.  First:  Humans.  Humans are a transient species, always on the move.  Whenever there is something that impedes their progress they fall to pieces and nothing impedes progress like snow.           It needs to be shoveled, blown and plowed.  The roads become icy and people have to obey speed limits.  They need to buy all the bread from the grocery store because…..OK I have no idea why they do that.  Being made to slow down or, even worse, stay home, drives humans to madness.            As for dogs we can see why dogs like you, with those long, sexy legs would like the snow.  You can run through it, over it, and leap up and down in it.  It does sound like great fun.  As for little dogs like me we end up getting snow up

          I am ashamed of my sisters.  We get a few feet of snow and suddenly they can’t go outside.  Back in my day I used to go out in snow ten times over my head in temperatures 30 below zero and I was glad!  Glad I say!  Dogs today are pussified.           When I was a young pup we lived across the street from the state mental hospital.  My sister Blake and I would get walks every day, even in the snow.  Mommy was working then and we were crated all day so our parents thought it was important to get our energy out via walks.                   But we couldn’t walk on the sidewalks.  Mommy didn’t want our paws damaged from rock salt or our under carriages covered with sand.  So we walked around the softball field on the outer limits of the mental hospital.  We didn’t question who would give mental patients bats and hard balls to play with, just as the mental patients didn’t ask why seemingly normal thinking adults would walk their dogs around the perimeter of a snow covered diam

            There have been too many Sundays that I have chronicled the aftermath of unanswered prayers.  On this Sunday I would like to celebrate the joy left in the wake of prayers answered in the affirmative.             We begin with one of our oldest and most cherished friends who was with us when we cleared the land and built the dog houses to create this beloved spot for so many of our lonely friends.  Koda stands tall in his role as one of the leaders of our pack.             A torn ACL tried to cut our dear friend down to our tiny size.  This combined with a careless vet who prescribed the wrong medication made a dire situation worse and put Koda on the gurney towards the operating room after many weeks of dieting to take some weight off the weary tendon.             Luckily, in a plot twist reserved for movies, Koda’s original doctor returned to town, replacing the careless fool with the prescription pad, to do his surgery.  We gathered together to ask the All Mighty t

          Hello everyone:  My name is River Song and I am a bed wetter.           I admit I do not have the problem of other bed wetters:   The sudden puddling beneath me as I sleep.  Mine is caused by the holding of my urine throughout the night because there are treat balls to work on and laps to sit upon.  Before I realize what is occurring we are in the bedroom and I am placed on the bed.  It then occurs to me that my bladder will need expressing before a good night’s sleep can be obtained.  This, combined with my knowledge that peeing on the floor is not acceptable, caused me to violate our sleeping space with urine while Mommy and Daddy were in separate bathrooms practicing oral care.           Upon completion of my urination some of my flow flowed to Pocket.  She looked down, some my bodily fluid now unbodied, and jumped out of bed just as Mommy came out of the bathroom.  She saw the pee on the blanket and the sheet and yelled River!           I said:  “Wha?”          

          Dear Aunt Foley:   What was up with the beagle winning the Westminster Dog Show?   How do they judge who is the best?   - Josie           Dear Josie:   Oh you sweet innocent dogs on the mortal side of the Bridge.   No humans decide who wins Westminster.   Every dog is best in show.   There is no way to distinguish one from another.   They could have given that ribbon to any dog in the ring or any dog watching at home.   There is no way of measuring who is the best when every dog is perfect.           So how do they decide the winners?   It is simple.   We have a big lottery up here at the Bridge.   We put tennis balls with the names of every dog that has signed up for Westminster hidden in secret places all over Rainbow Bridge.   The first ball found with the name of a dog wins their breed, and then from there we hide all the found balls again and then seek them.   The first seven found win their groups.   Finally we hide the final seven and the first ball that is fo

            River and I have accepted the sad fact that we are never going on a walk again.  Winter is here to stay.  But we still need our exercise so we have invented in door games to keep us fit.             One of our favorite games is to sit by the window and watch Daddy shoveling.  It is exhausting.  We bet on when he will collapse.  The last storm River pointed the computer out the window, turned on the camera, and we began taking action across the country.  It was like watching the Super Bowl, a slip there, a stumble here, our hearts were racing.  Congratulations to everyone who had at the end of the driveway by the big drift.  The thrill of money changing hands and the close finish was exhilarating.             But Daddy can only shovel after it snows which has been every three days this February so we need to find other ways to occupy ourselves.  I have my red ball that I chase, but it is barely red anymore.  It looks like a man with a comb over in a wind storm.  Sometim

             On that fateful day so many lifetimes ago when Pocket and I were banned from Doggyspace we began contacting our friends to form another group.  Then I got a message from Erin.  And I hesitated.             Erin was a key cog in the DS machine.  She was the pup everyone went to for advice on how to lay out their pages, post videos or answer questions.  We were friends but when I first saw her e-mail I wondered if she was a mole sent from DS.  I almost ignored her request.  But I answered it.  When I did history was made.             She was as tired of, and disappointed with, the old DS management and anxious to move to another site.  When we started the Tanner Brigade we checked with Erin first.  While we could invite the friends and drive content we needed her expertise in setting up the site.  She agreed.  If she hadn’t the Tanner Brigade may never have occurred.  Everyone who enjoys the site should tip their tail her way.             She is also responsible for c

          Dear Aunt Foley:    We are being buried with snow.  Have we been forsaken?  -  Pokey           Dear Pokey:  Oh goodness no.  We have not forsaken you.  Last year I caused a lot of snow by having a hockey game over the United States.  This year I moved it to Russia.  They haven’t noticed.           I know this has been quite a lot for our New England friends to bear.  I flew up to the Big Guy’s and begged for mercy.  First he said:  “Well it has to go somewhere;” and then, when further pressed, said:  “Well that Belichick guy just annoys me.”  He had me there.           He has promised me that the snow will be ending soon, mid-April at the latest.  By early September the last of the snow banks will be gone.  Just hunker down and take it one shovel full at a time.  Don’t leave your house in search of the green fields of Chile, you will never make it.  And don’t be tempted to reach for your worn copy of the Donner Party cookbook.           I will share with you one of m

There are few loves in life more precious than a dog.  Our parents love us so much they would spare no expense to keep us healthy.  Unfortunately a good vet is hard to find.  Mommy and Daddy have gone through a lot of them and are still searching.  If your parents find one make sure they never let them go. This is one of the ways I measure a vet.  Ask them if Pedigree is a good dog food.  My Dad was talking to a woman who had a sick dog and he asked her what she was feeding the poor pooch.  The woman answered Pedigree and told my Dad that her vet said it was a good food Now let me say this about dog food.  There are a lot of reasons parents feed their dogs certain brands.  I got a high end brand, but Mommy and Daddy have no children, and two tiny dogs, so feeding us a high-end food was not expensive for them.  If they owned two Great Danes they may not have been able to do so.  Parents have other expenses and sometimes they have to feed their dogs food that isn’t high end, and t

Hello my friends.  I am transmitting this from somewhere in the cosmos.  My family and I have been transported to Hoth the ice planet from The Empire Strikes Back.  I know the nerds just got a woody but dammit this is serious.           I don’t know how it happened.  Three weeks ago we went to bed after a sunny, cold, day and we woke up on Hoth.  There was snow everywhere.  I could hear the sound of AT-AT walkers outside our windows but when I looked they were gone.  And even though they are not native Hoth every time I pass a mirror I think I see an Ewok.           Pocket aided in determining our location.  She had her yearly examination today.  Everything is fine.  Hoth has extraordinary veterinary care.  The vet lives one town over.  Pocket was sitting on Mommy’s lap while riding home and when they crossed the city line she saw the sign “Entering Tauntaun” and, as everyone knows, Tauntauns are found on Hoth. All I can determine is that the Empire is taking control of the Gala

              Shortly after Brody joined me at Rainbow Bridge another lifelong friend bounded up the stairs to greet me.  It was Zoe Boe, and truthfully she is more than a friend.  She is my partner.  She did all the drawings in my book and the fantastic cover.             I owe her so much.  While I have always been good a capturing my maniacal spirit through words Zoe and her Mom were equally as good at capturing it through art.              Like all devoted pups she wanted to check on her Mom.  After Ladybug fit Zoe for her wings we ran to Tommy’s and she checked on her Mom.  Aunt Connie was showing her tough Irish spirit on the outside but Zoey and I knew she was broken on the inside.             The next morning I awoke to feel a small drop of paint fall right between my eyes.  I looked up to see Zoe above me, her wings fluttering, and behind her was my ceiling, now painted with the entire history of our friends’ lives.             Above me was Tommy eating popcorn wit

          Dear Aunt Foley:    Now that the Super Bowl is over what can you tell me about this deflated ball thing? – Boris           Dear Boris:  First full disclosure.  My family is from New England and are Patriots fans so I hate those bastards.  On Sunday afternoons there is unexpected and unnecessary yelling from September to February which disrupted my napping and relaxation.  I would much prefer my parents to have been Jets fans where there is yelling maybe once a year.           Now about the balls.  Humans aren’t like boy dogs who can just lick their balls to either clean or deflate them.  Humans have to use their hands to deflate their balls.            Now Tom Brady likes his balls deflated but not being bendy enough to deflate his own balls, and being on the field, he needs someone deflate his balls.  Apparently a ball boy took Tom’s balls into the bathroom before they were brought out to the field.  People think he used that opportunity to deflate Tom’s balls but he

          I used to go outside.  Honest:  I did.  There are even pictures on this site somewhere of me outside.  But I am afraid I am never going outside again.           Last week it snowed so much I buried myself under the covers and didn’t come out for two days.  This week it snowed again and now we are surrounded by snow.            I look out my window and I don’t even have to look down to see snow.  I could jump out the window and land on the snow and go on a walk if I wanted to (but I am afraid of sinking.)            I don’t know where all this snow is going to go.  Mommy says in six or seven weeks we will be back outside preparing the gardens.  But I don’t know how that is going to happen.  That is an awful lot of snow to move.           The closest I come to the outside is the porch where my pee pad is.  I want to look outside to see all my small animal friends but the windows are frosted over.  River never makes it that far.  She has pee pads in the hall and a pee c