The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

There are many names for the place where I live.  Some call it The Bridge.  Others call it Heaven.  Some call it the checkout line at Arby’s.  Those people are usually reassigned. There is a dog side where people can live, a people side where dogs can live, a people side where no dogs can live, and a cat side where the cats decide who they want around them and shun the rest. I don’t know what side you will decide to join but I do know if you were loved you will be here and if there is something you love it will be here too. But there are some who try to teach otherwise. Which brings me to Dominic Lynch, a recent graduate of Loyola University who writes for The Federalist,  Among blogs recently posted there was one stating that the Jedi were really the villains in Star War because the Empire was trying to preserve law and order.  I can’t make these thing up.  If I did I would be reassigned myself. Many leading theologists have written that dogs are indeed allowed into heave

I do loving walking this time of year  I was born snoutless so walking in the hot weather is hard.  Since I am from Florida I would prefer being a snow dog which means I could fly down to Florida during the winter.  Mom doesn’t want to go so I am stuck up here  But that doesn’t mean I am going to walk in the wet cold winter weather either. Spring is great with the new flowers and smells and I get caught up on my tree mail from my friends.  But autumn is the best.  The weather is nice and cool and there are less bugs.  Plus nature lays before me a smorgasboard.  Leaves, twigs, acorns, mulch washed into the road:  It is all you can eat. On Monday after garden day, which is now down to pull stuff out of the ground day, the four of us went for a walk.  Pocket I and got our business done quickly. Mommy and Daddy don’t do their business outside.  I think it is against park rules. As we approached our house we saw a nice woman who had one of those machines that vacuums the le

Mama June's new boyfriend

I have three wonderful friends in Blogville. They write the wonderful   Three Little Pugs blog. Their names are Stella Rose, Angus Mac and Maggie Mae and man do they have troubles.   I know we all have troubles but the Pugs’ troubles have not just come in threes they have affected three generations of their family.  Let’s begin with the youngest. This little cutie is Macey-Elizabeth Jean.  She is seven years old and she is a hero.  She has a rare illness called Lymphedema which only affects one in 740,000 children.  The condition causes fluid retention and tissue swelling in her legs.  The swelling can be painful and it interferes with some of her activities but she still dances, cheers, and proves that, with the right attitude nothing keeps you down. The Pugs’ Dad worked in the warm weather out on the highway.  But in the cold weather he moved to what the pugs called “The factory from hell.”  The factory from hell indeed.  While I have never been able to uncover

When I was a mortal pup I hated having my picture taken.  Sometimes I posed but mostly I bobbed and weaved so my Mom could never get a good shot.  This is a growing concern amongst dogs everywhere.  People used to have to own a camera to take a picture.  Now they can take it with their phones, their watches, and, I believe with glasses. It is harassment by camera.   Our foredogs Moms used to have to say:  “Oh look, she’s doing the cutest thing.  Oh honey get the camera!  Hurry get the camera!  She’s still doing it!  Hurry!  Get the lens cap off.  Focus!  Focus it!  Oh crap, she’s not doing it anymore.  Maybe next time.”  And we would win. And we were gland.  But along came Steve Jobs.  People say he was a genius but he was just a guy trying to get a picture of his dog playing with a stuffie. He created a phone that you could take pictures with because people were more apt to carry a phone all the time than a camera but by the time humans got the phone out of their pocket we h

We are joining our friends in sending healing hugs to Deb and Butch, Mom and Dad to  Stella Rose, Maggie Mae and Angus McConnell From your friends Angel Foley, Pocket and River Song

Foley taught me lots of things that have been very useful in my life:  How to snuggle on Mommy’s lap, how to chase a squirrel, and how to social network.  This may have been the kindest service she did me, and the unkindest. I have made the greatest friends in the world on social networking.  Dogs and their parents across the world know my face and my stories.  Twenty five years ago a dog could not possibly live the life I am living.  But social networking is a double edged sword.  Sometimes you read things that are too hard to bear. I lead a very quiet, reserved life, but Foley has ordered me to produce blogs every couple of weeks.  I am not as adventurous as Foley, or a mischievous as River, so I worry my blogs will be boring.  Because of that I sometimes research dog stories to see if there is something interesting I can write about.  But I didn’t find anything interesting, only very sad. I read a story about a pit bull in New York City named Astra.  She has had several fo

Louise, get us to damn Mexico.

What household item freaks you out? Pocket:  I don't like the stove.  I don't like the beeping noises it makes and the sounds of pots of pans being placed on top of it  I'm not crazy about the smell either. River Song:  Mom has one of those long, extendable grabber things.  When they point it at me and the things jaw opens and shuts I run from the room

“Aroooooooooo!”  I heard this just outside my window.  I was snuggled in my bed and hoped the Aroooooooooo was not meant for me.  I rolled over. “Aroooooooooo Foley!”  I opened my eyes and sighed.  I got out of bed then put on my slippers and robe.  I stoked the fire.  It had started getting cold here at the Bridge.  “Aroooooooooo Foley!”   “I am coming!” I said, trying not to sound grumpy even though I knew I was a bad-waker-upper.  I opened the door and Angel Apollo nervously entered my house. “Arooooooooo Foley I need to go visit my Mom and let her know everything will be OK but I can’t find a butterfly, a hummingbird, nothing that will let me borrow it’s body.  Aroooooooooo what am I going to do?” Apollo asked pacing across my floor. I curled up in my favorite rocking chair.  “Apollo, you need to calm down,” I told him.  “Tell me what is wrong.  And stop starting every sentence with Aroooooooooo.”  (He did this when he was nervous.) “Aroooooooooo,” he said.

The summer and fall of 2007 was not a fun time for our family.  Something moved into our house that changed us in a profound way and not for the better.  That was Pocket coming to live with us.  That was also the year that Mommy got diagnosed with breast cancer.  You don’t so much get diagnosed with cancer as you get overwhelmed by cancer.  It goes with you wherever you go.  It sits in your living room, it eats at your table, it sleeps in your bed, it calls shotgun on car rides.  It is relentless and never leaves until the doctor tells you it is gone. For poor Pocket this was her second time dealing with a parent who had cancer in her first three months.  Her breeder Dad also had cancer.  In fact Pocket was not meant to be created.  While her breeder Mom was taking care of her husband  Pocket’s parents got it on behind the shed and Pocket entered the world.  Unfortunately shortly after Pocket’s birth her breeder Dad passed away.  Then, shortly after coming to live with us Mommy go

I am a girl who loves to give kisses.  Mommy usually allows a single kiss then tells me enough but Daddy will let me give him multiple kisses.  This might mean that he has some emotional issues but I don’t care.  River needs her kissy time. But there are other times I am not in the mood.  Actually that is most of the time.  When someone comes to me to give me a kiss I turn my head.  Then I begin to bob and weave.  I keep turning my head hoping that I can screw it right off.   I have my personal space and it shall not be violated.   As for the personal space of others?  I don’t care about that too much.  As good as I am at bobbing and weaving from puckered lips I am also good at avoiding a hand that is trying to block my sweet kisses.  There is a difference between my kisses and theirs.  My kisses are sweet and lovely  Theirs are gross. When I kiss Daddy I use my whole tongue and after I am done it looks like someone threw a bucket of spit on my face.  Then I go over to Mom

Seven years ago I met my good friend Paco.  He was two years older than me.  Two years after I made my journey to the Bridge Paco is still going strong.  Yesterday he celebrated his 17th birthday with his Mom at his home in Bologna Italy. Paco is another miracle dog.  His heart has been failing for a long time.  His vet didn’t think he would make it to 17.  But Paco’s Mom has had a very hard year including the loss of her Mom and Paco has judiciously metered out his heartbeats so he can stay with his Mom for as long as possible.   Paco is one of my all time favorite dogs.  I enjoy using obscure pop culture references in my writing which usually pass right over poor Paco’s head because he was raised with proper culture and etiquette.  He politely asks me to explain the joke and then laughs even when he doesn’t think it is very funny. Kind, supportive, compassionate and loving Paco is truly one of the best friends any pup could have.  If you asked any of his friends they wou

Pocket and I rode our stallions over the crest.  We were wearing bandannas over our snouts and not just because they looked pretty.  They kept us from choking on the prarie dust kicked up by our steeds.  The sun was setting to our left and we could see the white steam against the orange sky then we heard the train whistle. We were sitting on our horses necks holding their reins in our paws.  I dug my claws into my rides’ side and it took off for the tracks that lay before us.  I steered my horse on to the tracks gambling the conductor would break upon seeing a Yorkie on a horse. My ploy paid off.  The train screeched to a stop.  I rode over to the conductor and told him to get the car with the safe open or my partner would open fire.  I nodded to Pocket who was trying to hold the guy with one paw, the trigger with the other, and not fall off the horse.  The conductor scoffed when suddenly Pocket fired several shots at him.  “All right, I’ll do it!” he said climbing down with h

Jingle jangle jingle jangle.  It is a sound every dog knows.  The sound of our tags clinking together.  I have avoided this annoyance most of my life.  My parents never found a reason for me to wear my tags.  They were attached to my leash so when I went out I was legal.  But I didn’t have to wear them inside. That darn Internet betrayed me.  Mommy started reading story after story about dogs who disappeared,  some from their home.  And then she decided to have us chipped. The chipping wasn’t bad although I hated going to the vet.  I figured once I was chipped I would never have to listen to those tags.  But then Mommy got something in the mail from the Chipping company.  It was a tag.  Why does a company that makes chips to track dogs have to send out tags?  Isn’t the entire point of chipping to avoid tags? This must have been a deal made with Bag Tag.  Big Tag was losing business and made the Chippers give out tags.  And since the Chippers are all powerful in keeping us dogs s

Last week I wrote about my friend Morgan from the wonderful world of Blogville whom many of you met for the first time.  I am very glad you got to know her.  I feel bad that so many of my friends don’t know these great dogs.  But the same is true the residents of Blogville:   They don’t know our great, caring friends from Tanner Brigade and Facebook. And who is better or more caring than Hattie Mae?  It is hard to imagine a world without sly, beautiful, witty, emphatic, generous, inspiring Hattie Mae.  But for a time we will have to experience that world.   Hattie Mae has gone on sabbatical. Hattie’s Mom is having some issues that keep her from the computer and all we can do is pray that it is for a very short time.  We have had to flail our way through the vast Internet without her before and we didn’t like it.  She was the first dog to leave DS and without her the site’s tone changed.  Many followed her out the door.  When we first began the Tanner Brigade Hattie, having

I have an old grandfather clock on my cloud.  It has hands, a chime, and a cuckoo that comes out occasionally to say hi.  But it doesn’t tell time because here on the immortal side there is no time.  An eternity is too long to keep track of. But on the mortal side there is nothing but time.  “What time is it?  Do we have time?  Do you have the time?”  Life and time are intertwined.  Humans seem to think they have plenty of time but in truth there is no time. Time is something you never get back.  As you read a tiny sliver of your life is fading away.  So what to do with this time?  How about spending it on love and kindness. I know humans get mad at one another.  Mommy has too many people in her life mad at her.  And she has lost time with them.  No matter how often she has reached out to them they don’t have the time for her.  And someday her time will run out and no one will have time with her. So if someone takes the time to extend a paw of kindness to you find the time t