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She wants to go back to where ever she came from

Pup of the Week: Fern

A dog is put on Earth for specific reasons:  To love, support and protect their humans.  It is a natural instinct for most of us.  But occasionally dogs, like humans, develop disorders that prevent them from performing their duties.

Fern is one such dog.  She came into her mom’s life shortly after her brother PJ went to the Bridge.  At first Fern was the perfect successor to PJ.  But, as she grew older, she began to show signs of aggression.   Her mom tried to find answers for Fern’s behavior but couldn’t.  She had no choice but to send Fern to the Bridge at just three years of age.

I have never seen a dog sadder to cross the River of Life than Fern.  Many dogs are upset about leaving their family, but Fern was sure that she had failed her family, and her duties as a dog.

She was met by her brother PJ.  He hugged her and assured her that her mom loved her no matter what.  But Fern kept saying “I failed, I failed.  I didn’t love my humans like I should have.”

PJ wrapped her in his arms and told her to sit.  I had joined them along with her friends Meika, Scooby and Odie.  We all gave her hugs and kisses.

“Why did I fail so badly?” she asked me.

I took her by the paw and told her to sit.  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said.

“Of course it was,” she said.  “I was the one who did the snapping, the biting, the growling.  It was so bad they had to send me here.  I broke her heart.”

I put my arm around her.  “Sometimes, we want to do the right thing in our hearts, but our brains don’t cooperate.   You never meant to act the way you did.   You love your mom.  But there was something in your head.  It took control of your body.  You weren’t the sweet Fern she knew.  You became someone else.  It was an illness.  Like cancer, or a heart problem.  People can accept them.  But when the problem affects your personality it is harder for humans to understand.  The only way to defeat the illness is to send you here, so you can be Fern again.”

“But I am the one that failed,” she said.

“You no more failed than all of us failed.  We all had a truly fatal flaw. Mine affected my breathing.  Scooby and Odie’s affected their walking.  Yours affected your personality.  But your mom knows how much you love her.  And she wants you to be you again, so she sent you to us.”

“Does she know I loved her and never meant to hurt her?” Fern asked.

PJ stepped in front of her.  “No one knows our mom better than me Fern.  Mom knows you love her.  It broke her heart when you got sick  But that’s what happened.  You got sick.  Up until then you did a great job.  No dog could have loved their mom more.  You were perfect.”

We all agreed.

“And she knows that now you are back to being the Fern she loves.  You will visit her, in her dreams, or in other forms, and she will feel that love again.  She, like the rest of us, wish you had more time.  Three years is nowhere near enough.  But you and mom shared a lifetime of love over those three years.”

Fern wiped her years away and PJ helped her stand.  She hugged us all again and thanked us for helping her.

She and her mom are both getting better, one day at a time.

Out of all the diseases that brings dogs to the Bridge ones that affect the brain are the worst.

But like everything we will get through it together.

The 2016 Rainbow Bridge Thanksgiving Dinner

It has long been a tradition at Rainbow Bridge that the new Angels cook Thanksgiving dinner for the rest of us.  But this year that tradition ended.  While the mortal world lost a great friend we gained a loyal brother and the Internet’s best known dog chef in Leo.

A month ago Leo visited me in my cottage and said he would be cooking the entire dinner.  I had eaten his food at many a gathering before:  his stunning chicken; his perfectly braised ribs; his juicy burgers; the tasty pizza.  My mouth watered in expectation.  I told him I agreed and was looking forward to tasting his creations, but I still needed to find assignments for the new angels.

The other angels had been training for months to cook.  Leo picked the two best, Sarah Jane and Gracie Mae, to help him  He wanted Bella too but she was committed to visiting some humans who were having trouble adjusting to life at the Bridge.  Once a therapy dog, always a therapy dog.

Leo needed the finest ingredients for his food and he entrusted his good friend Smoochy to find them.  It is hard to find fresh meat in a place where nothing can be killed but Smoochy led an expedition with Rain, Clyde and Quincy into the fresh meat caves near the mouth of the River.  The meat caves are scary, dark places where the freshest meat can be excavated from beneath large rocks.  Smoochy used his fine sniffer to find the meat, Rain and Clyde used their digging skills, and Quincy went beneath the rocks and pulled out piles of fresh meat.  They put it all in huge saddlebags on Smoochy’s back and he carried it to Leo’s kitchen.

Whitley spent the days before the meal sewing outfits for all the dogs who would be waiters and waitresses.  She made dozens of pilgrim outfits to bring the meal a sense of authenticity.

The seating arrangements for all the angels in our district is a huge responsibility and there was only one dog I could trust with this difficult assignment:  Odie.  His brother Scooby helped create a tuxedo for him.  He looked spectacular.  He stayed up two nights arranging the seating so all dogs could eat with their friends and family.  Based on the big smiles on every angel’s face he did a fantastic job.

As much as we all loved Leo’s food he is an American chef and everyone loves Italian food so Leo made room for Paco who, working alone, made platters full of meatballs, wedding soup, crispy Italian bread, lasagna, bolognese, and manicotti.  Paco, ever the quiet gentleman, was reluctant to serve his food with the great Leo’s offerings but Leo told him that Paco’s food was superior to his.  Paco grinned and blushed at the compliment.

Despite Smoochy’s scavenging there were some items that needed to be shipped to the kitchen.  We put Dirty Harry in charge of making sure the items arrived safely.  Harry has lots of experience in the delivery business and he was very prepared to insure everything arrived safely.

Dot has always been a very disciplined dog so she was put in charge of making sure that every dog behaved and none of them had too much bacon beer.  

Cotton sent an emissary and asked if she could attend with her cat friends.  Cotton has been so good to me that I could not say no and Odie set up another table for our kitty friends including my cousin AJ.  There was no need for chairs because the cats sat on the table.

In between courses we wanted our guests to be able to cleanse their palate with some treats.  We put Lexi in charge of the treats and, of course she did a great job.

After dinner we gave our guests two options to work off all the food they had consumed.  First they could go running up and down the hills with Ciara.  Most of the big dogs choose to do this.  They kicked up a lot of dirt running off those extra calories.

But us little dogs went to Chelsea’s house.  She had huge beds, couches and pillows placed all around her rooftop palace.  I climbed into bed to snuggle with Chelsea and we watched the big dogs running before we fell asleep.

It was dark out when Jazzy woke us up.  We all gathered outside in a valley.  Jazzy set up a projector and we all got to see our families enjoying their Thanksgiving dinners.  There were a lot of tears shed as we watched those we loved enjoying each other’s company.

Then we heard the sound of a band.  Sandy stood on the stage.  He said we needed to end the day with a Kentucky hoedown.  There were bonfires, square dancing, and lots of Kentucky bourbon.

It was a magical day.  A big thank you to the new angels.  They outdid themselves this year.

Let’s hope they do it again next year.  That they will still be the new angels.  

We don’t need any new angels crossing the Bridge next year.  There were way too many this year.

And all your Angels want to wish you a very happy holiday season.

We will be watching.

Gardening Season Has Come to an end by Pocket

We started the first week of April.  It seems like so long ago.  The air was warming.  Everything smelled new.  Baby birds chirped from the trees.  River and I had been planning our gardens for months.  We were snuggled together in our pink buggy.  The layout of the gardens was at our paws.

The winter debris that had cluttered our gardens were removed.  The grass was raked.  The smell of Earth being reborn filled our buggy.  The soil in the garden was uncovered.  A sweet scent, of flowers blooming under the soil drifted past us.

This was our routine every Monday.  River and I got in our buggy and our parents worked in the yard. The grass was mowed and River and I breathed in that freshly mowed lawn scent, storing it in the far recesses of our nostrils for when we felt lonely and needed to smell the welcoming Earth.

    Each week we met with mommy about which flowers would look perfect and where to put them.  She bought them on Saturday and she planted them on Monday.  The yard began bursting with color. Our perennial friends burst through the soil and opened.  After the yard work was completed we went for our walk, and when we came home we examined the gardens and decided what needed to be moved.

    As spring turned to summer and the weather got hotter we were left on the porch because according to my parents it was too hot for us outside.  It was too hot for our parents too.  Their faces turned red and they sweated a lot.  We were not happy stuck inside.  Our view was blocked and we could not supervise properly.

    The summer brought our sister Foley and her angel friends in the form of butterflies, bees, and large praying mantises.  We loved when they landed near us and said hello.  The butterfly bushes bloomed bringing more angels.  Neighbors stopped to look at our designs and compliment our yard.  Some nights we would sit in the back, look at the flowers, and for a few second find elusive peace.

    When fall came we lost some plants, but they were replaced with mums and cabbage plants.  The weather stayed warm, which kept our flowers in bloom, and dry, which kept our sprinkler sprinkling.  

    November brought a frost, and slowly our lovely plants all drooped then dropped.

    On Monday our parents had their final yard day of the year.  The temperature was below 40 degrees, the wind made it feel like it was in the 20’s.  All the decorations were put away, the last plants were bagged and put away,  and we were quickly brought back in the house, where, for months we were relieved by the air conditioning, but now we were comforted by the heat.

    We will miss our Monday garden days, all our flowers, and our angel visitors.  Monday becomes a snuggle day now, lazy mornings in bed, and afternoons spent under blankets, dreaming of warm weather, and what we will plant when the Earth awakens and we are in our buggy again supervising the planting of pretty flowers.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat this Caption

Hey!  What's the hold up  There is an SUV taking up two lanes holding everything up.  Probably owned by some neutered male dog over compensating  

Pup of the Week: Sandy

We all began together eight years ago.  We met in a place called Doggyspace, which isn’t there anymore.  We were young.  Our lives were ahead of us with unlimited possibilities.  And we had online friends to share our stories with, and learn.

    I came to Rainbow Bridge more than three years ago.  Many of those original Doggyspace friends were already here.  Since I arrived here more friends have joined me.  I know in the next five to ten years all the originals will be here.  But our parents and friends will still have dogs bringing them joy and making the world continue to spin.

    This week our wonderful original friend Sandy joined us.  Sandy’s call to the Bridge came slowly over a long period, and then suddenly, and unexpectedly.  On Thursday Sandy, despite his many physical problems, went to the groomers and looked beautiful.  

    Later that day he could not walk or stand.  Sandy had fought for so long to stay with his mom.  Despite having four other siblings Sandy knew that he and his mom had a special bond.  He was her heart dog, who saw her through great sorrow and tragedy.  The perfect match of dog and mom.  Sandy swore he could withstand any pain to be with his mom.  But his mom and his dad knew he was in pain, and they didn’t want him to live without a single comfortable moment.  On Saturday, a little after noontime, Sandy arrived at Rainbow Bridge.

    There were at least a hundred dogs awaiting him.  Every dog he had ever met online or in person, everyone who was a friend of his mom, online or on land, were there.  When Sandy got off Enzo’s escalator he was moving tentatively.  With each step he realized that the pain was gone, he was steady on his feet, and his muscles were young and strong. By the time he reached us he was running the way he used to run in his backyard.  

    He repeated the Rainbow Pledge for me and then he ran to his brother Bo.  It had been years since they had seen one another.  Sandy was the young, active, playful dog when Bo went to the Bridge.  Now Sandy understood what his brother had gone through.  They agreed that getting older was hell.

    Then a man came forward wearing a uniform.  Sandy didn’t recognize him.  Bo whispered in his ear.  “Uncle Max?” Sandy said stunned.  Sandy had never seen him standing.  Uncle Max, his mother’s brother, came to live with them at the end of his life.  He was a veteran, and had served in Vietnam.  His mother and Max had grown estranged but found one another again.  But they didn’t have enough time.  Max picked up a ball and threw it for Sandy.  Our friend was surprised to see his Uncle Max running with him, and they both laughed chasing the ball.

    A thin woman picked up the ball, then bent down and rubbed Sandy’s head.  “Hello Sandy, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am your mom’s friend Vicki Tankersly.  We promised whichever one of us got here first, we would look after the other’s dogs.  So I will always be available if you want to stay at my house or play with Blazer.”  She gave Sandy a kiss and threw the ball for him.  Sandy’s Uncle Max ran with him, got to the ball first, and tossed it back to Vicki as Sandy, joined by Bo, happily chased the ball back and forth.

    I left him there.  I knew Bo would teach him how to watch over his mom, how to visit her in her dreams, in other shapes, and even as an unseen ghost.  All that would come in time.  As for now it was wonderful to see my friend running like a pup again.

    I hope the picture of Sandy, Bo and Max playing together will give Sandy’s mom a smile.  

    When you lose your heart dog smiles are few and far between and precious.

    Just as dogs like Sandy are.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Foley and the Golden Chalice

It has long been rumored, here at Rainbow Bridge, that there is a golden chalice filled with the finest kibble located in a cave high in the mountains.   It was further rumored that somewhere along the banks of the River a treasure map could be located.

        One morning my friend Quincy was digging by some rocks when he found a bottle.  He brought it to me to inspect.  I got the bottle open, and Quincy got his paw inside and pulled out the parchment inside.  He unrolled it.  “Quincy, I think you have found the map to the golden kibble.”  We exchanged a high paw.  We then put together a team to find the treasure.  

We recruited Reba the chocolate lab for her excellent digging skills and Tommy Tunes for his great intelligence.  We followed the map, climbing into the mountains.  Tommy led the expedition.  He would often stop, check the map, smell the ground, and then lead us in another direction.  We then came to the cave entrance.

It was small.  Neither Reba or Tommy would be able to get through. Quincy said he would try but he got halfway through when he got Winnie the Pooh’d and we had to pull him out.  If anyone was going to get the golden kibble, it would be me.  Darn, I knew I should have brought a dog smaller than me.

Tommy pawed me a flashlight.  I put it in my mouth and started down the narrow path surrounded by wet rocks.  I reached an opening.  A thousand bats swooped down towards me. I wanted to run away but I couldn’t face my friends if I lost my nerve.  I lifted my head and shined the light. That is when I saw the golden chalice.

It was sitting on an altar.  How was I supposed to get the chalice down? I had never been a good jumper.  I walked to the altar and put my paws on it.  The chalice shook.  I went back several steps and ran at the support beam.  I only jostled the chalice, but the altar was narrow.  I thought it I hit it a few more times the chalice would fall. If it didn’t break, then I could nose it to my friends.  And if it did then all the golden kibble would be me.

It took me four more tries to knock the chalice down.  It hit the ground hard and rolled toward the tunnel.  It also opened four doors around me. We had heard the chalice was protected but thought it was a legend.  The four snarling wolves licking their chops and looking at me weren’t legend.  They were real, and they were moving.  

I ran at the chalice and pushed it.  It didn’t roll straight because it was oblong shaped.  I had to push on the left side, and then the right side, to get it to go straight. I got it into the tunnel just was a wolf snapped at my behind.  I kept moving it forward when I heard thunder.  Then the ground began to shake.  I turned around.  A giant boulder was rolling towards me.  

I pushed it harder and harder. The sound of the boulder got louder.  The tunnel narrowed, and I had to push it forward with the top of my head.  I got to the end of the tunnel, but I couldn’t get the chalice through.  I yelled at my friends to pull.  They grabbed the chalice with their teeth and pulled it through.  I followed and got out just as the big boulder crashed against the wall and stopped.

We gathered around the chalice.  Reba used her teeth and paws to open it.  We looked inside. There was a handwritten note.

“Show mercy to one another,” it read.

Graciously, my friends let me keep the note.  I framed it and put it on my nightstand so I could remind myself of this message, and what it took to get it, before I fell asleep, and when I awoke.

River and Mr Wet Rocks

The mean man who lives in our village, a couple of streets over from our house, is rampaging against dogs in the neighborhood again, so we are boycotting walking past his house, even though it was my favorite bowel movement spot.  Apparently, the man did not appreciate the high ratings he got on Yelp for BM’s, and he called the police.

He did not call the police on us. We usually walk at night, and his big Mr. Magoo glasses barely keep his vision working in daylight, never mind at night.  What caused the phone call was that the mean man’s rocks were wet from pee. For most men, this is a sign that they have to start sitting down when they pee but the mean man thought is necessary to call the police.

Most policemen would try to calmly settle trivial problems like this but a small city renegade cop, who thinks he is on the Shield  showed up and sided with Mr. Wet Rocks.

He told Mr. Wet Rocks to take pictures of any dog who is pooping or peeing on his property, and Officer Unfriendly would deal with the people.  Mr. Wet Rocks was pleased with the response and prepared by getting out his tripod, his original Kodak camera, his big black cloth, and his rectangular exploding flash, and hoped that a dog would come by so he could catch the culprit in action.

I do not want to have a picture taken of me in the middle of pooping, especially a picture that is going to be developed in a dark room over a period of six days.  Plus the exploding flash is sure to scare Pocket.  So we are not going by the wet rocks anymore.  So long favorite pooping spot.

We now walk in the other direction, away from the houses where recently emboldened, disgruntled, elderly people are ready to seek justice against any perceived wrongdoing involving precious bodily fluids.

Meanwhile, Mr. Wet Rocks is railing against the less cute dogs in the neighborhood.  He called the Board of Health to say that his yard was being used as a sewage dump for dogs causing more government officials to visit our quiet little village and disrupt our peaceful day.   He showed them his wet rocks but the Board of Health was not impressed.

The pee mail has been filled with urgent pleas to avoid Mr Wet Rocks who is off his rocker.  I tell my friends to come pee at the old barn at the front of the property and the manager told my parents that they might put in a dog park just for the pups who live here.

But if you see a man with wet rocks next to a mean cop go the other way.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Wrinkled friends are the best

Pup of the Week: Jeb

When I was a mortal dog, I was known as one of the most prominent dog attorneys in the country.   It was only the promise of a judgeship that made me give up my practice and move to Rainbow Bridge.

When I heard of the case of a dog named Jeb I wished I was back in the trenches trying to defend the innocent.  A Michigan judge had ordered that Jeb be euthanized because he was found standing over the lifeless body of a neighbor’s Pomeranian named Vlad.  The state law demands that any dog who causes serious injury to a dog or person will be destroyed.

Jeb was not a usual suspect.  He was a service animal belonging to Kenneth Job, an 80-year-old man, who Jeb helped walk, and stand if he fell.  Jeb was a very sweet and tender dog who never bothered another animal, including the rabbit he lived with.

Kenneth and his daughter decided to defend Jeb vigorously.  To do so, they turned to the type of evidence that is used to prove the guilt or innocence of humans:  DNA.

Poor Vlad’s frozen body was still being held as evidence.  A Florida lab took samples DNA samples from Vlad’s body.   They found Jeb’s DNA on Vlad, but they also found DNA samples from a mysterious third dog.  Michael D. Wendling, the prosecuting attorney, ruled that he did not have irrefutable evidence that Jeb had attacked Vlad.  A third animal could have attacked Vlad and then Jeb came upon his body and transferred his DNA at that time.

Attorney Wendling met with Vlad’s family, and they, not wanting to see another innocent dog go to the Bridge, dropped the case against Jeb.  He was released and sent home where he could continue to provide for and care for, Kenneth.

Jeb had been in the custody of the county animal office since August 24.  On that day Kenneth took his motorized scooter out of his fenced in yard to fix the mailbox.  Jeb slipped out of the gate to investigate the neighborhood.  Shortly after that, he was found over Vlad’s body.  The veterinarian determined that the dog had been picked up by a large animal and shaken to death.  The culprit could have been a coyote, or a fox, both of which were common in the area, but since Jeb was found over the body, he was the one held responsible.

Kenneth’s family insisted on a DNA test to clear Jeb, but Michigan officials refused to spend money on the test for a dog.  The family paid for an independent lab in Florida to run the test that saved his life.

Kenneth has agreed to keep Jeb on a leash and never let him get loose again.  Kenneth’s daughter said that shouldn’t be a problem since Kenneth has not let Jeb out of his site since he has come back home.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: We Are United

Tanner Bub and I have been best friends for years. We left DS together; we started the Tanner Brigade together, and we work at Rainbow Bridge to make the lives of other dogs better.

        There is one problem.  My mom is a lily-livered, bleeding-heart, liberal, egghead communist and Tanner’s mom is a gun toting, redneck, facist.  Pundits insist that there is no way that my mom and Tanner’s mom can be friends. We are a divided country, and nothing can bridge the gap between the two sides.

        But we know that is not true.  If Americans want to know what unites their country above everything else, they should look to the dogs.

        First, everyone should own a dog, you can own a cat if you want to, I respect members of the LGBC community (Loving Greedy Bitchy Cats).  But cats can’t unite a broken country like dogs.

        I watched the Cubs championship parade on TV and saw millions of joyous people singing “Go Cubs Go” as one great, unwashed congregation, and I wondered how many people supported different politicians and how little it mattered.

        I see people walking their dogs, meeting on the streets, or in stores, and they pet one another’s dogs, and they share stories.  No one is asked who they are voting for.  The ties that bind them, their love of dogs, is more important than politics.

        The core belief that politics must divide America as a country comes from TV sets, radios, and the bad Internet sites that are not devoted to dogs, cat GIFS, and good old American porn. If a human allows themselves to come under their sway they will become convinced that the “other side” is the enemy.  They aren’t.  They are just your neighbor Joe, who lent you his lawn mower when yours broke down, who didn’t complain when you kids cut through his yard, and whose answers for what ails this country is different than yours.

        Now that the election is over I hope the humans can realize that something as petty as politics should never end a friendship. Everyone wants what is best for the country, and while they may feel there are radically different ways of getting there, they can always find common ground.

        And, if you can’t find common ground, take your dog for a walk, and we will lead you to the common ground that will keep the nation together and moving forwards.

Pocket Sends Enzo on a Secret Mission

The message was left on a seldom used rock down the street from my house.  It was peed confidential.  Any smell would dissipate seconds after I whiffed it.  I couldn’t even trust River.  I blocked her with my little body and sniffed the pee mail.  A cold feeling passed through me.  The entire world, both dogs, and humans were in danger.  There was only one soul who could save us.

When I got home, I sent him a message on the bark Internet so no human could read it.  Early the next morning I heard the new wrecker park in front of my house.  I slipped out of bed, opened the door and let top dog Secret Agent Enzo, also known by his code name the Golden Nugget into my house.

I brought her to my small kitty condo.  Enzo stopped outside of it.  He didn’t think he could fit, but I assured him that it was bigger on the inside than the outside.  We were soon inside.

I lowered the bowl of silence so no one could hear us even though the secret message was so important it could not be barked.  I went to the the pee pad and left the message then sat down at the table under the bowl.  Enzo discreetly moved to the pad and read it.  A concerned look crossed his face.  He hopped up on the other side of the table.

“You do realize the danger of this mission?” I asked Enzo.  He bravely nodded.  “If caught you could be locked up, put in the pound, even given the needle.  Your every movement will be watched, and you will be in constant danger.”

“And loving it,” Enzo said.

I then took him to the lab where he could choose from one of Teddy Bond’s several secret weapons:  The Exploding Poop; The Really Exploding Poop; The Really Smelly Poop.  I have to get Teddy to update his weapons.

Once Enzo was fully equipped, I told him that this mission would take him across continents, to the skies, and under the sea.  He wouldn’t be able to contact his parents, or his friends, except on his paw bootie phone.  I assured him that there was no dog I trusted more with this operation.

“Just don’t tell me there will be bears,” a nervous Enzo said.

“There will be bears,” I said.

“I asked you not to tell me that,” Enzo sighed.

I knew time was an issue.  I told him I would look after his mom, his friends and his garage.  I then popped his binky into his mouth and sent him out the secret escape hatch.

Travel safely my friend.  I hope to hear from you soon.  

The message was left on a seldom used rock down the street from my house.  It was peed confidential.  Any smell would dissipate seconds after I whiffed it.  I couldn’t even trust River.  I blocked her with my little body and sniffed the pee mail.  A cold feeling passed through me.  The entire world, both dogs, and humans were in danger.  There was only one soul who could save us.

When I got home, I sent him a message on the bark Internet so no human could read it.  Early the next morning I heard the new wrecker park in front of my house.  I slipped out of bed, opened the door and let top dog Secret Agent Enzo, also known by his code name the Golden Nugget into my house.

I brought her to my small kitty condo.  Enzo stopped outside of it.  He didn’t think he could fit, but I assured him that it was bigger on the inside than the outside.  We were soon inside.

I lowered the bowl of silence so no one could hear us even though the secret message was so important it could not be barked.  I went to the the pee pad and left the message then sat down at the table under the bowl.  Enzo discreetly moved to the pad and read it.  A concerned look crossed his face.  He hopped up on the other side of the table.

“You do realize the danger of this mission?” I asked Enzo.  He bravely nodded.  “If caught you could be locked up, put in the pound, even given the needle.  Your every movement will be watched, and you will be in constant danger.”

“And loving it,” Enzo said.

I then took him to the lab where he could choose from one of Teddy Bond’s several secret weapons:  The Exploding Poop; The Really Exploding Poop; The Really Smelly Poop.  I have to get Teddy to update his weapons.

Once Enzo was fully equipped, I told him that this mission would take him across continents, to the skies, and under the sea.  He wouldn’t be able to contact his parents, or his friends, except on his paw bootie phone.  I assured him that there was no dog I trusted more with this operation.

“Just don’t tell me there will be bears,” a nervous Enzo said.

“There will be bears,” I said.

“I asked you not to tell me that,” Enzo sighed.

I knew time was an issue.  I told him I would look after his mom, his friends and his garage.  I then popped his binky into his mouth and sent him out the secret escape hatch.

Travel safely my friend.  I hope to hear from you soon.  

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Are you sure this outfit will help me pick up girls?

Jazzy is Our Pup of the Week

I greatly admire dogs who fight to stay with their parents.  Some dogs battle diseases for years before finally heeding the Bridge’s call.  Jazzy was one such dog.

Jazzy was diagnosed with cancer four years ago.  She battled that disease and with every ounce of her being. She was determined not to let some silly tumors keep her from her parents.  Then came the diagnosis of lymphoma.  Again she used every bit of fight she had in her little body to wrestle the disease of a draw. Then came a heart condition.  

Jazzy was like a character is a Final Destination movie. She was summoned to the immortal life many times and stubbornly refused. Jazzy is another brave dog who said no.

Two days before Halloween Jazzy started vomiting and had diarrhea.   She could not walk properly and seemed to be in pain.  Her parents took her to the vets.  She had a fever of 103, and the vet detected that she had a lot of pain in her back.  “Not to worry,” Jazzy said.  “I have vomited and had diarrhea before.  Nothing strange there.  And yes, my back hurts, but that’ what happens when you get older, beats the alternative.  And I have had plenty of fevers before.  Just give me a couple of pills, and I should be OK.”  They listened to Jazzy, and gave her some pills, and some fluid, and sent her home.

By the next morning, she could not stand.  “That’s fine,” Jazzy said.  “I am good lying here.”  But her parents didn’t think it was a good idea and took her back to the vet.  They did X-Rays and blood work.  The vets suspected pneumonia because she had a spot on her lungs.

Spot on the lungs?  That’s wasn’t good.  It was the old “spot of the lungs, possible pneumonia but might be something else,” that finally got me here.  I hate to hear the words “spot on the lungs.”  

Jazzy’s fever kept growing.  They gave her more medication.  It was a last resort.  If the fever didn’t come down, it was either a tumor or a blood clot. “Tumor, blood clots?  Please.” Jazzy said.  “I can beat those in my sleep.”

Although their brave girl was blessed with never ending optimism, when Jazzy didn’t respond to treatment, her parents knew they had to step in and stop Jazzy’s fight.  She had battled long enough, had given her parents every inch of devotion in her heart.  Her parents told her it was time to go the Bridge.  Jazzy wanted to argue, but she knew they were right.  It was time.

Jazzy’s mom held her they were letting her go, and she was given a shot that sent her to the Bridge. Soon she came charging up the stairs, feeling no fever, or temperature, breathing like a pup, and full of energy. I was waiting to swear her in, but she saw her sister Star behind me, waiting for her.  Jazzy ran me over to reach Star.  Jazzy gave her a big kiss, and they began chasing each other in circles.

I had to wave a dog treat to get their attention, and I swore Jazzy into Rainbow Bridge.  When I began to explain the rules, and how to get her wings, Star stopped me and said that she would be taking care of her sister.  I knew not to argue.

I hope Jazzy’s parents know that Jazzy and Star are playing together again, visiting you both in your dreams and while you are awake.  And Jazzy and Star are keeping a watch over their siblings.

Jazzy’s parents should know they don’t just have a Star in the sky now they have a Jazzy, and they should sleep soundly knowing they are being well watched.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Foley Finds Herself in the Middle of a Politcal Scandal

I am sure that your parents are saying that they can’t wait for the election to be over.  My friends, don’t believe it.  Humans love elections.  They even have them in the immortal world.  And I have found myself plum stuck in the middle of a scandal.

This year Grover Cleveland is running against William Jennings Bryan for the office of Immortal President.  The office has no power, but humans still go to great lengths to get elected.  I became a Cleveland supporter because I like the Indians and I am easily confused.  I am a judge, and my endorsement carries more weight than my body.  On Friday Cleveland visited me at my cottage to sure up my support.

I made him a cup of tea, and we talked.  I could tell something was bothering him, so I inquired.  He told me that he had been accused of sharing state secrets in personal correspondences.  He assured me that there was no truth to these rumors.  He said he had more campaign appearances and slipped out while I was in the kitchen washing the teacups.

When I returned to my study, I saw a bottom desk drawer was slightly ajar.  When I opened it I found it overstuffed with papers.  When I examined them, I found the were Mr. Cleveland’s personal correspondence.  I could not tell if they were of any import and didn’t care.  I did not want the most talked about missives in the afterlife in my possession.

And then I found a truly frightening piece of evidence.

It was a picture of Benjamin Harrison’s weiner.  Male members, even before I was neutered, repulsed me.  Mr. Harrison’s weiner was no 21st century bathed every day johnson.  It was a bathed once a year willie (whether it needed it or not.)  It was dirty, tangled, gross, and inexplicably dog-legged to the left.

I knew I had to destroy the correspondence at once.  I could not afford to be tied to a human political scandal.  I lit a big fire in the fireplace and prepared to burn the papers when there was a hard knock on my door.

I looked out the window, and there were four hedgehogs wearing sunglasses and long trenchcoats.  It was just as I had feared.  It was the Furry Bureau of Investigation.  

Not wanting any trouble I turned over the papers, including Mr. Harrison’s peeper, immediately.  They promised me anonymity but, as anyone who has lived with a hedgehog can attest, they leak, and soon my name was a trending topic on Bitter, which is the Twitter for the dead, called Bitter because only people who are angry about their existence use it, so it is exactly like Twitter.

I am laying low right now hoping this scandal blows over.  While Mr. Jennings Bryan and I are both supporters of the wall, he is too unpredictable for my nature and, even though he says he has never done it, it is just a matter of time before he is back on the animal side grabbing pussies right and left.

I don't know about your parents but I can't wait for this election to be over.