River Song's Tax Return

It is that time of year again:  Tax time.  I hate doing my taxes but I don’t want to get in trouble with the government.  This year I decided to do the taxes myself and not go to H&R Bark.  Hopefully I have kept all my receipts and won’t get audited.  I am asking my friends to please review my return and let me know if I have done anything wrong.  Thank you.

For Tax Purposes Only

Last Name:  Song     

First Name:  River

Address:  Mom’s lap or bed.

Filing Status:  Unwilling

Dependents:  Mom.  Dad.  Pocket Dog

Income:

Kibbles:        63,145 kibbles

Treats:            2,190.00 treats

Banana slices        670.00

Apples slices          715.00

Carrot pieces         112.00

Cheese:                    51 slices

Turkey                     20 pounds

Chicken                 6 pounds

Belly rubs        937

Head scratches    1,719

Walks            289

Kisses            16,380

Hugs            14,212

Stuffies        36

Total amount        100,492

Adjusted Gross Income

Licks given        27,375

Smiles caused by    2,190

Laughs caused by     1,104

Snuggle hours        2,655

Health care expense    2,100

Day care expense    0.

Crate Improvement    38.00

Stuffie Insurance    100.00

Poop bags        57.00

Dental care        98.00

Training class loan    150.00

Total deductions          35,867

Total taxable income    64,625

Income tax withheld    0.00

Amount dogs are

Taxed according to

State of Fl v Hobo

Hudson        %0.00

Taxes owed        0.00

Well thank the Big Guy and Hobo Hudson that I don’t owe anything.  I have no spare kibbles except for the couple I keep hidden in my beard and a couple I leave in my gullet to regurgitate.  

I wish everyone else the same good result with their tax return as I had with mine

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Bitch stole my seat

Pup of the Week: Sarah Jane

Through history humans have accidentally provided dogs with many gifts.  They think they are discovering inventions for their own benefit but repeatedly these innovations profit their four legged angels.  Cars, refrigeration, air conditioning:  All created for humans but appreciated by dogs.

Arguably the invention that has most benefited dog?  The Internet.

I did not truly appreciate cyberspace until I crossed  the Bridge.  It was here that I encountered dogs who had lived with no access to the Superhighway.  Their friends were their neighbors, their family members, and if they were lucky dogs they met at the park or pup care.

I have hundreds of friends.  Years ago we were all gathered in the same cyberspace playground named Doggyspace and it seemed like everyone had thousands of close friends who they barked with everyday.  We look back on those days so fondly.  Maybe they weren’t as special as we remember but it sure seems like everyday was magic.

Like everything that is a little too perfect things spun out of control.  My sister Pocket and I got into trouble sticking up for a friend, we were shut out of our playground, started another group, and it seems like nothing was the same.

We lost track of some dear friends. Our parents would still talk on the Facebook but we rarely heard their barks.  

But I do recognize them when I see them.  Sadly the only time I see them is when they are bounding up Enzo’s escalator after crossing the River of Life to the Immortal side.  And that is how I renewed my relationship with Sarah Jane.

Sarah Jane was one of my first online friends.  A day rarely passed when we didn’t bark at one another.  But things change.  Our parents become busy.  We grow older, and tired, and have less time to play with our online friends.  The Golden Age of dogs ruling cyberspace had ended.  I have missed her, but never forgot her, and now are together again forever, albeit in the worst possible circumstances.

Sarah Jane took ill.  She was brought to the vet who diagnosed her with lymphoma.  Sarah Jane was sent home with prednisone and a prayer but neither were effective.  A few days later Sarah’s parents helped her to the Immortal side of the Bridge where there is no pain, and no illness, just an eternity of waiting until we are all together again.

Sarah Jane is back with her thousands of friends.  She has beautiful wings and an even more beautiful soul.  She also has many untold stories about her life that keeps us all enraptured. When she is not spinning her tales she is watching over her Mom.  

She is back with her friends.  Friends she made years ago on line thanks to the human invention.  

Thank you humans for giving me Sarah Jane.  We will keep her busy until the decades pass and we are all together again.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Spring Training

Enough with this winter I say!  Although it has been mild and basically snow free at my Mom’s house, except for the school canceling, work delaying, super spring Northeaster of the century that pounded our little home with almost three inches of snow, I am ready for spring because spring is the time when I can borrow the bodies of hummingbirds, butterflies and other flying creatures to flitter down to Mom’s house and watch over her and, if I am lucky be able to land on her shoulder and touch her skin, smell her hair, and find the peace I have missed for so long.

Mother Nature has become indifferent and requires coaxing to change seasons .  She lives on the mountain, a few steps below the Big Guy.  I fly there, enter her beautiful abode, lie on my back and let her rub my tummy.  I believe she finds this comforting.  (I know I do.)  A comforted Mother Nature is less likely to become angry and create storms plus she is more malleable to an early season change.

Confident that my bewitching belly will work it’s magic and harsh winter will evolve to splendid spring I have begun swaying the small flyers who commute from the mortal side of the river to the immortal side to let me borrow their bodies to practice flying. (Swaying may be giving myself too much credit.  The term bird brained is accurate.  The slightest noise can distract these addled creatures and I can nudge them from their own minds.)

Then I am off.  I soar high into the air.  I land softly on branches and leaves.  I practice flying around a person’s head.  I need to be at an expert at all aspects of flight before I can go see Mommy.  And I have plenty of angel friends practicing adjacent to me for their own trips back home.  

I do need to find a friend who will blow me. There is no wind here so I need a friend to blow air at me to create a breeze.  When I finally get to see Mommy again the last thing I want is to blown off course.

And I will keep visiting Mother Nature for belly rubs.  If my belly does the trick an early spring shall be yours.

Things I am Afraid of By Pocket Dog: The Kitchen

In contemplating my blogging responsibility for this week I considered listing everything that scares me but after toiling for three days like a venerable monk copying the old Testament with a quill pen I realized the work would consume the rest of my days so I picked one topic to expand upon.

And that topic is the kitchen.

I do not fear an inactive kitchen when the plates are locked up, the mugs carefully hung on their tree, and the utensils stacked peacefully.  But when Mommy frees the plates, plucks the mugs and unsettles the utensils I begin to tremble as my serenity and backbone are reduced to Jello.

I do not like noise!  Plates clashing with countertops, glasses clapping together, a sharp knife slicing through fresh vegetables and landing on wooden cutting boards, blenders whirring, slicing and mixing, fusing together and creating the sound of chaos which equals danger.

I know dogs from the time the first animal was cleaned and the first vegetable harvested have endured these sounds but today’s kitchen has spurned a new and more frightening noise.

Beeps!

I hate beeps whether they be from smoke alarms or alarm clocks but mostly I hate that noise coming from the kitchen.  When I was a young dog I lived a virtual beep free life.  But then we got a new stove and instead of the reassuring sound of flames springing from a gas jet the stove does nothing but beep.

As soon as Mommy begins preparing in the kitchen I begin trembling.  I first take solace on Daddy’s lap but as the pots crash against one another and plates crash I climb to higher ground:  His shoulder.  Then comes the beeping.  The ceaseless beeping.  To set the stove, to warm the stove, to set the microwave.  The oven door bellows with indignation when it opens.  The racks screech as they are pulled forward.  There is more beeping as the stove is set again, and even more as the same is done for the microwave.

And then comes the cutlery.  The wicked cutlery:  Sharp edges and prongs.  Damn those Disney movies with their dancing knives and forks.  Knives do not kill people but dancing knives will mess you up!  I jump down from Daddy’s lap and hide behind Mommy’s recliner hoping that if the flatware does animate they won’t be able to find me.

Within an hour the danger passes.  The tableware is set and silenced.  The oven door yields with less resistance.  The racks glide out.   Delicious smells overcome the noise.  I trot out from behind the recliner.  Like all survivors I crawl from my safety zone following the smell of food looking for something good to eat.

Fear builds quite appetite.

Wordless Wednesday

Pup of the Week: Baby Chloe

Dogs, either on the mortal or immortal side of the Bridge, are angels.  When we are on the mortal side we provide unconditional love to humans.  We inspire smiles when our parents are blue and we always make them feel loved.  We are their servants on Earth.

When we pass over to the immortal side we become spiritual angels.  The task is much harder.  Our love is a spark forever lit in our parents hearts but it is often drown by waves of sorrow.  When our parents’ minds are clear in the moments just before sleep when all life’s drama falls away like sawdust our paws once again caress their cheeks and our bodies can be felt next to them.  But slumber is like an eraser:  All the memories of our return are wiped away when they awaken.

I have said that we dogs require nothing in return although I may have been modest in my claims.  We do demand attention, food and walks and our failure to curb our enthusiasm can be exhausting to the most devoted parent.

What we don’t require are angels of our own. But often we find them in human form.

The preface, now done, leads us to Baby Chloe who, before, during and after her ACL surgery found herself protected by three angels:  Her sister Angel Aran, who is an assigned angel, and her parents, who took the task of being Chloe’s voluntary angels so passionately that when Aran and I watched over them we could see a faint outline of wings on their backs.

They began the day of Chloe’s operation as all worried parents do when their baby is in surgery:  While not praying, worrying, and incessantly checking that phones, of all shapes and manner, are working,  they tried to keep busy to abate the fear.  They received the call that Chloe did well and could come home soon and then they watched the minutes drag their way to the time Chloe return.

Once Chloe was home her parents made her comfortable on the floor.  They knew that we dogs become quite incoherent from anesthesia and Chloe’s Mom, and later that night her Dad, lay on the hard floor next to Chloe in case she either needed to go out or in her confusion tried to move and hurt herself.

The next day her Mom and Dad sacrificed their time so at work so one of them could be Chloe’s watcher during the day.  It should be no surprise to anyone that Chloe is a willful little girl.  She shook off the after effects of the anesthesia and decided to check out the fancy new scar she had scored.  Her parents were right there to stop her then take her to the vet for a fancier, and larger cone.

This morning Chloe was more her normal self if her normal self included a decorative cone and knee pain.  Her mother sat in her chair watching her sleep and counted her blessings that she was blessed with such a wonderful dog.

In her dreams Aran and I were visiting Chloe and discussing how lucky Chloe was to have two wonderful angels to look over her and take care of her.  Chloe asked me if there were more parents like hers and if so how can we tell who they are.

I assured there that were and we could easily tell who they are.  If they finished reading this blog then they love their dogs unconditionally and are qualify as human angels on Earth.