Beat This Caption

Honest Mom, that's what happened.  Some guy opened the locked door and drank your Smoothie.  Honest

Pups of the Week: Star, Jazzy and Abby

Since her arrival at Rainbow, Bridge Jazzy has spent most of her time either ghosting with her mom or visiting her in her dreams.  She carried her mom’s heartbreak with her every step she took.  Her friends gathered around Jazzy to try to cheer her up. She had all her energy back after the effects of a four-year battle with cancer had vanished, and sometimes we could get her to run and play, but then she would fly off into the sun to ghost with her mom.

We all knew what needed to happen.  Her mom needed a new dog.

We told Jazzy that she had to go into her mom’s dreams and tell her it was the time that she bring a new dog heartbeat into her house. Those who don’t understand missing a dog would say "it has only been two months since Jazzy passed,"  just as they say that one year equals seven dogs years.  That isn’t true.  But what is true is one month missing a pup equals seven months without a dog.

Jazzy’s sister Star also was very worried about their mom.  Star had watched over her mom for years, but she had never seen her so blue.  They decided to divide their efforts.  Star would visit their mom in her dreams and try to convince the only part of her brain which remembers dream conversations:  “the subconscious” to get a dog while Jazzy worked on finding a new pup.

It took one dream visit for Star to determine the problem.  It wasn’t her mom.  It was her dad.  So she slipped into his dreams and yelled: “get Mom a dog” over and over until it penetrated his subconscious.  When he awoke, he suggested to his wife that they should get another dog.  

And that brought them to Abby, a seven-year-old short haired Chihuahua, who needed to be rescued.  Jazzy visited Abby and determined that she was the perfect dog to help heal her mom’s heart. 

Now Abby is home walking on the same floors and sleeping on the same floor, laps, and couch that Star and Jazzy walked and slept upon, and filling their parents lives with love again.  And now Jazzy can run and play with her friends.

But I know she is spending a lot of time ghosting because she loves to see her mom smile.

As do we all.

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: A Glossary of Terms

I have been writing about Rainbow Bridge for a long time and have used terms that some dogs who have just begun to follow my blogs may not understand, so I want to provide this glossary of terms.

The River of Life:  This is the river that separates the mortal side from the immortal side.  When a soul runs of out of heartbeats, they cross the River of Life via Rainbow Bridge.  Souls can never use their Earthly form to cross back but can use other forms.

Rainbow Bridge:  The Bridge we use to cross the River.  There are a lot of Rainbow Bridges connecting the two side of life, but they are all referred to as Rainbow Bridge.  It is called Rainbow Bridge after rainbows.  Rainbows are created when someone on the Immortal side is missing someone on the mortal side so intensely that it creates a Rainbow from the mourning soul across the River of Life to the soul they are missing.

Enzo’s Escalator:  For a long time tired dogs, still in pain, had to climb from the Bridge to the high cliff where the land that we refer to as Rainbow Bridge begins.  Our mortal friend Enzo designed an elevator that lets dogs who cross the River of Life at our section of the Bridge ride instead of climb.  It is very appreciated.

Lovey’s spa:  Halfway up the elevator new angels can stop at Lovey’s spa to get their hair washed, have a drink, get a manicure, and enjoy a beverage as their body recovered so they when they reached the cliff they are fully recharged and have the energy of a puppy.

The Swearing In:  It is my duty to swear in all new Angels.  I have learned to do this very quickly because the new angel has family and friends very excited to greet them,

Scooby’s Wings:  Scooby has recently proven himself to be a first-rate wing designer.  He takes the time to learn important facts about the new Angel and then makes several pairs of wings for them.  

Ladybug’s Flight School:  Ladybug then teaches the new Angels how to fly.  She has been doing this since before I crossed the River of Life.  There is no better flight instructor at Rainbow Bridge.

Living Arrangements:  An Angel can live wherever, and it whatever the way.  I have a modest cottage on a cliff looking over the River; Tommy Tunes has a magnificent palace that is ever expanding making more room for his friends’ Chelsea lives on to the top floor of a high tower.  There are also Angels whose human parents have crossed over.   They get to live at the sweetest spot, at home with their parents.  The parents here always have their doors open for any dog, or stray that wants to live with them.

Weather:  We are usually at comfortable degrees with the sun, but we can fly up to the mountains to play in the snow, and there is one valley where it always rains for those strange dogs who likes to get wet.

The Big Guy:  He runs Rainbow Bridge.  When a mortal soul prays the prayers come to the Bridge, and we fly them up to the Big Guy.  Sometimes he says yes, sometimes he says no, and sometimes we have to argue and plead with him.  Right now we are flying up lots of prayers for Enzo, Molly, Hannah Banana and some other friends.  

Tear Clouds:  When a loved one dies mortal souls cry, and those tears are lifted into clouds that pass over the River to Rainbow Bridge where those tears fall and puddle on the ground.  We dogs then search the puddles to find our parents’ tears and take them to our gardens where they help our flowers grow.

Food:  We can eat anything here, either human or dog food, but who wants to eat dog food?  I love chocolate, and spaghetti, and everything bad for me on the mortal side.  And we never gain a pound.

Hunting:  We can hunt all the critters we want.  We chase them, catch them, shake them, and then they run off again.  The same critter can keep us amused for hours.

Age:  We can pick our ages like a human picks out clothing.  Every morning we get up and go through the bodies we had at certain ages and decide what to wear.  My favorite age is seven.  That is when I had it going on.  

Visits:  There are three ways we can visit our parents. The are:

Flying Creatures:  The only souls that can fly from the mortal side to the immortal side are birds and insects.  They are eager to switch bodies with us so they can play like dogs.  We then fly back to the mortal side to visit our families.  We can hang on the side of houses, fly through the air around our parents, or, my personal favorite, to become butterflies and flutter around them.  If you see a flying creature, who seems to know you it is one of your angels.

Dreams:  We can visit any soul in their dreams.  Unfortunately, our humans rarely remember our visits, but our animal friends do.

Ghosting:  Leo figured out how to fly straight into the sun and after passing through you end up near your parent as a ghost.  You get all the benefits of being with them, and they get the vague notion that you are there, and sometimes they see you, just out of the corner of their eye.  It takes a lot of energy to ghost, so most of us can only do it for a short amount of time, but some of us can do it for days.

Happily Ever After:  When all your loved ones have passed the River of Life to the Bridge then you move to Happily Ever After where there is never any worries, and you stayed safe and snuggled together ever after.

I hope this glossary has helped you better understand Rainbow Bridge.  Now, when you arrive, you will have the upper paw, or hand, on everyone else.  

Pocket's Thank You Notes

I would like to take this time to say some thank yous.

Thank you, to my parents for working on their dexterity.  I like to be scratched softly and slowly; River likes to be scratched firmly and quickly.  While dual petting my parents have trouble going fast with one hand and slow with the other, but thanks to hard work and some training they can now do it easily.

Thank you, Kellyanne Conway, for bringing “alternative facts” into the mainstream.  We dogs, after something in our houses, become chewed, destroyed, or broken, have presented “alternative facts” blaming “sum udder dawg” for the carnage.  Now “alternative facts” are part of the public lexicon and our lives have become better.

Thank you, not, to the Patriots, for going to another Super Bowl, which not only will give me a Sunday full of tension and yelling but will interrupt my viewing of Queen Victoria on Masterpiece Theater.  I take my English heritage very seriously.  

Thank you, to all my friends who take the time to read our blogs and leave such wonderful comments.  If friends were kibble, we would be morbidly obese.  I hope we are as good to you as you are to us.

Thank you, to the grammar program my parents invested in so I no longer have to worry about commas, periods or any of those other troublesome little marks that make writing less fun.

Thank you, to the treadmill that arrived at our house so my mom can go on walks without leaving the house.  No thank you to the treadmill that needed to be put together by my dad causing him to use what Enzo’s mom calls Non-Lutheran words.  

Thank you, my morning cornflakes.  I don’t know if they are good for me, and I only get a couple, but they are like a morning appetizer.  Someday I am going to open my breakfast place with morning appetizers and make lots of kibbles.

Thank you, my small bladder.  It causes me to go outside more, and every time I go out, I get a bacon treat.  You know who does not have to pee a lot?  Camels.  And they spit on humans.  If they peed more often and got treats, there would be less spitting, and a world with less spitting is a better place.

Most of all thank you all for taking the time to read this.  I appreciate your time.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Mom!  The TV is busted again!

Pup of the Week: The Magnificent Seven

It is a good week when no friends cross Rainbow Bridge, although I have been flying many prayers up to the mountain for sick friends, or those facing operations, like Ruger, Enzo, Jasper, Maggie and much more.

When I have such a week, I look for a Pup of the Week who can give our parents a feeling of joy, and let them experience another example of the love between dogs and humans.

Some of these stories end with a dog being rescued and heading toward their forever home.  This story has seven such dogs.  But, I must warn, it is also a sad story because it is not just humans who need forever homes.

Near Los Angeles rescuers found homeless dogs living by the river.  They were surprised that the dogs weren’t afraid of people.  

That is when they met Wilma and Reuben, the two homeless humans who were taking care of the dogs.  They found Wilma when they heard a woman calling for her dogs.  The faithful ones ran to their mom.  This was when they met Wilma and where she was staying with the dogs.

The Rescuers told Wilma that they had arrived to take the dogs to foster homes.  Wilma resisted parting with her beloved dogs.  The Rescuers took out their IPads and showed her how the dogs would be cared for, and where they would be living.  Wilma is a true dog lover.  She knew the Rescuers would provide a better life for the dogs than she could, and she surrendered them.  

There were four dogs with Wilma at the time, and she said goodbye to each one.  The dogs did not want to leave their mom, but the Rescuers 
took the reluctant dogs from their mom’s arms.  

Her husband, Reuben, then arrived with a fifth dog, which he agreed to surrender.  He told the Rescuers that there were two more dogs who were missing.   If the Rescuers would come back later in the day, Reuben was sure the dogs have returned.

Wilma and Reuben’s dogs were brought to be cleaned and checked out.  There weren’t any issues with any of them.  Then the Rescuers returned for the final two dogs.

They were with Wilma and Reuben.  The couple recognized that the couples' lives would be easier without having to take care for the seven strays.  The Rescuers sat down to talk with the couple and to try and find them the assistance they needed to get housing.  

Finally, it was time to take the final two dogs, but one was stubborn.  He did not want to leave his home.  Reuben walked the dog to the Rescuers vehicle and put her in the car himself, then said his goodbyes.  The dogs were driven away.

The dogs were taken in by Rescue From the Hart and brought to the same foster home where they were happily reunited.  The group, named the Magnificent Seven, will have to be split up at some pint but, thanks to Wilma and Reuben, they are safe, and in a good home.

If you would like to learn more about the dogs, or what you can do to help Wilma and Reuben, please check out the Hope for Paws  Facebook page.

And our thanks to Wilma and Reuben.  They sacrificed their best friends to give them better homes.  They may be homeless, but they aren’t heartless, and the people like them should never be forgotten by society.

Tails From Rianbow Bridge: My Dinner With Ladybug

A little birdie landed on my window sill with a message from my good friend Angel Ladybug.  She invited me to lunch at the La Bridge Cafe.  I knew  I would have to get a makeover since Ladybug is the most stylish dog at the Bridge.

I made an appointment at Angel Lovey’s spa.  She did my hair, my tail, buffed my nails, and put a beautiful bow in my hair.  I know, despite Lovey’s Herculean efforts, I could not hold a candle to Ladybug.  My suspicions were confirmed when I saw my friend sitting in her corner table.  Her hair was beautifully done, bright colors sparkled throughout her body, her wings were illuminant, and her halo glowed.

Ladybug had already ordered a lovely buffet.   There was bruschetta with bacon, Canapes over kibble, Deviled eggs filled with sausage, and freshly cooked pigs wrapped in bison.  I grabbed a canape and watched Ladybug delicately eating a pig wrap.  She did everything with significant grace.

“Foley, darling,” she said lightly damping her mouth with a clean napkin.  “We must do something about this wicked weather.  Our friend Enzo hurt his leg slipping on ice, and his parents are buried under seven feet of snow.  Someone placed a broken ice machine on a cloud over Enzo’s house, and they are getting buried.”

I wholeheartedly agreed without her but left out the part where I had moved the ice machine to create more room on the dance floor which caused the water line to come loose and begin to pour water over Enzo’s mountain which quickly turned to snow.  Now the water line was frozen in place.

Our Foleytinis arrived, and I took a long drink.  I tried to explain to Ladybug that I could not get the minions to remove the ice machine on Sunday (no work on Sunday, Blue Laws still apply), Monday (holiday), Tuesday (recover from holiday), Wednesday (training day), Thursday (Sleep day), and Friday (Inauguration prayer day).   And then it was the weekend again.

Ladybug took her angel phone from her purse and reached the head minion.  She laughed, and cooed, barked and giggled, then said thank you.  She told me the ice machine would be removed forthwith.  “You just have to know how to talk to the minions Foley.”

We both took another sip and ate another sandwich.  I had so much to learn from Ladybug.  She is the wisest Angel I know.  

And I have a lot to learn from the lowly minions too.  Mostly about how to move an ice machine without causing a blizzard.

So Enzo and family.  I promise I will do better next winter.  

River and the Cat Stylist

One morning this week I woke and was very happy to find we were in the midst of a January thaw.  I got my driving cap, put a cigar in my mouth, got behind the wheel of my little convertible, and went for a drive

.

I drove down the street waving to girls who wanted to be me and the boys who wanted to be with me.  I was feeling hungry and decided to hit my favorite bar.  I pulled into the Petco parking lot and headed over to the treat bar to look at their selection of treats.

I was helping myself to some faux chocolate chip cookies when I saw a cat being groomed in the salon.  I had never seen such a thing.  I hopped down and went into the salon, ignoring the associate’s pleas to extinguish my stogie,  I pleasantly inquired why the cat was getting a spa treatment.

I was told my questions would not be answered if I continued to flaunt their no smoking policy.  I dropped my cigar, stepped on it, and slightly burned the bottom of my paw.  I howled in pain.  The spa manager soothed with a minty balm but angered me with her snarky comment about not getting hurt if I followed the rules.

I ignored her barb.  I would tweet my revenge upon returning home, like a mature adult.  “Why are you grooming a cat?” I demanded.

The cat turned towards me.  “Excuse me dog, but I have the right to be groomed as much as you do, and I have my own cat stylist, Rochelle, to work on me.”

Cat stylist?  “You have a special groomer just for a cat?” I asked.

“Of course,” the cat said.  “I would never let a dog groomer touch me.  Gross!”

Well, this improperly frosted my biscuits.  I jumped on the counter to confront the snappy pussy.  For some reason, security grabbed me and tossed me from the bar.  My third of the week.  And they called me mom to pick me up.  How humiliating.  I would be up all night tweeting about the incident:  “Failing Petco hiring special groomers for cats.  Unfair to dogs!  Sad.”  That would tweet them.

And I got in trouble with my mom for taking the car and smoking to boot.  This is what cats getting special groomer has done.  

Cats groomers!  What is next?  Squirrel hairdressers.

I fear for our country.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Hold on a second Mom.  You are blowing this pooping on the rug thing way out of proportion 

Elle is our Pup of the Week

Buddy Boy, Luca, Sydney and Jamison.  That is a lot of souls passing between the end of 2016 and the beginning of 2017.  I think it is time for an uplifting story (tinged with sadness, every uplifting story needs to start sadly or there is nowhere to lift.)

This is the story of a six-year-old non-verbal boy and a three-year-old deaf dog who formed the perfect bond.

The boy is named Connor Guillet.  He was born addicted to opiates.  The newborn had to undergo a detox program.  Genetic testing determined that Connor would have special needs and medical issues including being non communicative.  Despite these challenges Chad and Brandi Guillet were thrilled to adopt Connor when he was 6 weeks old.  

Connor did learn to communicate by sign language.  The family already had an eight-year-old Boxer named Chowda.  When they attended a Boxer Rescue event, they learned about Elle.  She was a rescue dog, available for adoption, who have been trained to understand sign language.

Connor’s Mom wondered if Elle would be able to help Connor.  When she took Connor to meet Elle he hugged her and kissed her.  Elle accepted his love and devotion instantly.  It was a special needs dog, and a special needs boy, neither knowing that they were special, but surely knowing their new best friend, both boy, and dog, were very special.

Connor and Elle understood each other instantly.  When Connor is upset Elle hurries to quiet him. When Connor has a tantrum Elle stands over him to give comfort until he calms down.

Researchers are concluding that children with autism benefit being with dogs.  We dogs do not judge, we love unconditionally and are wonderful companions.  I know humans who don’t have special needs and feel their dog is the only one who understands them.  When you have a special need, like Connor, that understands is amplified.  

Elle does not think of herself as a special needs dogs.  Deaf dogs have advantages.  Dog trainers say they are the easiest dogs to train to be companion animals because they have no distractions.  There are numerous ways to get a dog’s attention besides sounds.  Elle is just a normal dog who lives a quiet life.

And to Connor, she is a best friend, a source of comfort, and a dog he can communicate with like no other soul.

We, angels, are happy to see Elle and Connor together.  We like to think we helped them find one another.

It is nice to report on good things that angels do, and to end a Sunday blog with a happy ending. 

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Purrs for Jamison

Each morning I awaken, make my bed the way my mom taught me, have my bacon, chicken and egg breakfast, and check my emails to see how my mortal friends are fairing.

I noticed an email from my Blogville friend Christmas.  I opened it.  He was informing his many friends that his buddy Jamison the cat had joined me at Rainbow Bridge.  He asked us all to send our condolences to Jamison’s family and to write a remembrance of this special cat.

I always want to honor my friends’ requests.  Sadly, I have written dozens of loving tributes to friends and would have no problem writing one for Jamison and his family.  I only had one problem.  I did not know Jamison.

So, before I could write, I needed to meet Jamison.  I trekked over to the cat side of Rainbow Bridge.  This took a great deal of ovarian fortitude.  Cats are known for their sarcasm and biting humor.  Many dogs avoid them because dogs have thinner skins than presidents in waiting.   I have always been welcomed by the cats.  I think it is because I am a small dog and have made friends with many important cats at Rainbow Bridge.  Plus an author I am at the mercy of critics, so I have had to develop a thick skin.

I came over the hill.  The cat section of the Bridge was in a valley below me.  The cats had another large celebration with a feast of different kinds of seafood and chicken.  They did not notice me until I was a few paw prints away from the table.  When they did the group became quiet and stared at me.

Cotton jumped down and gave me a welcoming hug to show the other cats that I was family.  I told Cotton that I needed to speak to Jamison.  The newest angel was sitting at the head of the table.  Cotton signaled to Jamison, and he hopped down to meet me.

I told him of our connection.  He said he had heard of me.  We went for a walk through the valley.  He told me that his Dad’s Mother had to move, and she had a cat named Rudee, a black cur, who could not move with her.  Jamison’s parents took Rudee in, but there was a fight between Rudee and Jamison, leaving Jamison with a broken pelvis, a paralyzed leg, many stitches, and anemia.  His parents spared no expense and did everything they could to nurse Jamison back to health, but there was too much damage, and they had to let Jamison go so he could be young and injury free at the Bridge.

I told Jamison that I could communicate with the mortal side of the River of Life.  He made me promise to tell his parents that he does not blame them at all, and they should not blame themselves.  He loves them very much and thanks them for the wonderful life they gave him.  He is sorry that he fought with Rudee and knows that contributed to their heartbreak.  

He also wants to thank all his Blogville friends for organizing a tribute to him.  He sends them all his love.

He invited me to the feast, but I politely declined.  It was a cat celebration, and I don’t like fish.  We hugged before I left.

I may be able to post about the wonderful mortal life that Jamison lead, but I can tell you he is very popular here at the Bridge.  I can see why he was so popular on the Mortal side.   A perfect cat gentleman.

There is always time to make a new friend, even after they run out of heartbeats.

Remember Jamison is still alive, just unable to visit, but someday you will be together.

Pocket and the Snow Storm

When I awoke Saturday morning the skies were gunmetal gray, the air froze my paws, and I could smell snow.  Lots of snow.

I begged my parents to stay home, mostly by pleading looks, but it was errand day, and mom and dad are hearty New Englanders, who do not let a little thing like a blizzard keep them from the Dollar Store.  Darn fools.

I was put in my kitty condo, then in my crate.  River, my overly indulged sister, is allowed to wreck havoc on our small house in my parent’s absence and is provided a kitchen chair by the window so she can watch outside.  I am sure by year’s end she will persuade my parents to upgrade to a club chair while she watches and frets.

As soon as they left, River started her constant updates mostly consisting of these words:  “They aren’t home, and it’s still snowing.  It’s definitely snowing.  Snowing very hard.  Too hard to be outside.  Definitely too hard to be outside.”  This continued until they arrived home three hours later, shaky, wet, cold, but safe

That night our parents put pee pads on the porch, so we didn’t have to go outside as the snow continued to fall.  Daddy got up early in the morning.  He scooped me up and took me to the porch for a pee then put me in bed and went back out to shovel.  I hopped off the bed trying to go with him, but Mommy picked me up and brought me back to bed.  I like routine and Daddy leaving us in bed is not routine.

Two hours later he came back in the house and took River and me outside.  He had shoveled pathways for us to do our business.  There was so much snow.  I bravely did my business and headed back inside.  River, an original Floridian, mostly whined and stood still until she was persuaded to pee, and then she hurried back inside.

When my parents rank their doggies by snow bravery, I am second.  Foley is first  She would plow through the snow in joy, and she would delicately walk on top of the frozen crest until she reached a weak spot and disappeared in a minor avalanche.  She was quickly pulled to safety, covered in snow, and proud of her courage.  Blake, my parent's first dog, and their largest, a Shih Tzu, would take a dozen steps in the snow and then stop, helplessly raise a paw in the air, and beg to be picked up.  River is just a snow wimp.

In all 13 inches fell.  I know that is not the amount that Enzo or R and Shyla got in Colorado, but those pups are all two feet tall.  I am four inches tall.  For them to be dominated by the snow the way I was they would need to get seven feet of snow.  Snow is different everywhere and to everyone.  To me, it is big, wet, and obtrusive.

I hope your snow is kinder and smaller to you.  I am going back on the Internet and looking at flowers and seeds.  Spring will soon be here, and I will be ready.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Don't worry buddy, Mommy will be home soon

Pup of the Week: Sydney

On holidays I like to venture over to the human side of the Immortal world.  Thousands of veterans gather to march in parades.  Everyone stands and cheers these brave men and women who gave their mortal lives for their country.  Some of them passed over the River saving their fellow soldiers.  Some succumbed to injuries after insisting that their friends receive treatment because the friend was hurt was more than they were,

Sydney is that solider.  Her brother Moose suffers from Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia.  Rainbow Bridge has entire villages filled with pups who have passed from this dreadful disease.  I have many friends here who succumbed to IMHA.  Sydney did everything in her power to make sure Moose was not one of those pups.

Sydney and I got back almost ten years.  We met on Doggyspace and became good friends.  Her human brother Jordan went to Iraq to fight in the war and our parents spent a lot of time talking about, and fretting over, his well being until he returned home.

Sydney brought lots of prayers for Jordan, and then, after Moose got sick, continued bringing prayers for him, to the Bridge  I personally took Moose’s prayers from Sydney and flew them up to the Big Guy.  There were so many prayers for Moose that the Big Buy finally answered yes.

Throughout all of this Sydney was hiding a secret.  She had something wrong with her too.  A year ago she began having cluster seizures.  Sydney insisted she was fine, even though the seizures continued and grew worse.  By the end of the year Sydney’s mom knew her song was ending  Through Sydney’s perseverance, and her mother’s loving care, Sydney made it through Christmas.  But shortly after that the difficult decision was made to send Sydney to the Bridge,

She arrived with a purpose.  I made her recite the pledge, and there were hundreds of dogs waiting to greet her, but she told me she had something to do.  She needed to find a new pup for her mom before she did anything else.  

Smartie offered to show Sydney how to search for pups for her parents and he went with her.  Smartie reported back to me that there was no need for him to go.  After her first trip Sydney knew how to slip in and out of pup’s dreams, and knew which questions to ask and which answers she needed.

From there she went into her dad’s dreams and whispered to him.  There was a dog, just two weeks old, named Toula, who would be perfect for Sydney’s parents.  Toula would not make her mom forget about Sydney, but Toula would help heal the rawness in her mom’s heart and begin to make good memories, on that Sydney and her dad agreed.  

Sydney accomplished all this her first day.  She still needed to be fitted for wings, learn to fly, and how to perform all other important angels duties.

She accomplished more her first day at the Bridge then many dogs do in a year.

That is Sydney, never putting herself first.  She is going to make an excellent angel.  

Tails from Rainbow Bridge: Leo's Mission Accomplished

I woke up to find Leo curled up on the foot of my bed.  I softly jumped down, so I didn’t wake him.  I opened the blinds.  Everything at Rainbow Bridge was fresh and shiny for the New Year.  I walked over to my pantry and removed several strips of my finest bacon strips.  I began cooking them in my flat skillet.  Soon my cottage filled with the smell of freshly cooked bacon.  

I set up two plates, and two big glasses of milk.  The scent of bacon stirred Leo.  He yawned, looked around, then saw me by the table.  He jumped down, ran to me, and hugged me as he danced in a circle.  “They said it was time, and then I found him, they said it was time, and then I found him,” he repeated until we danced so much I got dizzy.

“Who agreed to what and who did you find?” I asked.  I knew the answer, but I wanted him to stop spinning.  Chows have trouble talking and spinning.

Leo stopped spinning.  “Foley, I have the most fantastic news,” he said, baring his teeth, his smile wider than it had been since he arrived at the Bridge.  He began talking then stopped.  “Is that bacon?” he asked.

I told him the plates was for him.  He sat in one of my chairs and began chewing on a strip.  I prodded him to tell me his story.

“Oh, right.  It’s my parents; they are finally ready for a new dog.  I have spent so much ghost time with them.  My poor mom always has tears in her eyes.  My dad sits on the deck looking at the spot where I used to lie.  I kept going into their dreams telling them it was time; they were ready, there was a little Chow out there waiting for them.  They would agree in their dreams, but by morning they were saying they weren’t ready again.  But I kept popping into the dreams, and soon I built up enough residual dream memories that they realized they were ready for a new pup.”  

He took a big drink of milk then ate another piece of bacon.    

“I looked at all the new chows, and I found the perfect one.  I then went back into my parent's dreams.  Once our parents decide to accept a new dog that is very susceptible to suggestions for which dog is the right dog.  I whispered where they could find this special boy and they remembered!  They contacted the person, and here is a picture of the little guy.

“Isn’t he cute.  His name is Harvest Moon by my parents are going to call him Harvey.  She should be with my parents this weekend.  Everyone is so excited.  Especially Harvey.”

“That is great,” I said, getting down and hugging him again.  “And now you are going to be able to spend more time with us here.”

“Oh no,” Leo said.  “I am going to have to spend more ghost time with Harvey than ever.  He needs to know the right way to snuggle with Mommy and to walk with Daddy, and to be Mommy’s Muse, and to keep daddy company, and to, and to…..

I looked at Leo.  He had fallen asleep on the table with a strip of bacon in his mouth.  I got a blanket and covered him.  He had done good work and he deserved a nice rest.

My heart beat with excitement as I cleaned up breakfast.  Little Harvest Moon has a new home with the best family ever.  

This is shaping up to be a very good New year.  

Wanted: One Griffon Toucher

Wanted:  One Griffon Toucher.

I, River Song, am in need of a Griffon toucher.  This is a person who would, when needed, touch, rub, scratch or hold me.

The toucher needs not work after midnight.  That is bed time.  When it is bed time, I have two humans I can lie against if it I want to be touched.  Sometimes there is so much human touch I move to the center of the bed where I am untouched.  Even a dog who loves touching like me has to say “OK, enough with the touching,” at some point.

The toucher would need to come to my house at 7:00 AM.  We rarely get up that early, but it does happen.  If we are not up, you can make yourself breakfast, watch TV, and do whatever finger exercises you need to do to prepare for your day of touching.

At some point, we will get out of bed.  I don’t know why we get out of bed.   I would be in bed all day if I could.  I am like Grampa Joe from Willie Wonka.  He was in bed all day, and he was glad.  Then one day selfish Charlie drags him out of bed and makes him go to the freaking chocolate factory where he got really bad gas and had to burp himself down because it was a kid’s movie and he wasn’t allowed to fart.  Then Charlie ends up being given the Chocolate Factory because, for some unexplained reason, Willie wants to retire at 35, which should have been a clue that running a Chocolate Factory is no box of chocolates, and now poor Grampa Joe is running the factory because they don’t allow a nine-year-old to do that, he has Trump on his butt because the Oompa Loompas are illegal immigrants and he only gets three hours of bedtime a night.  So never get out of bed  

Sorry.  It seems like I went off on a tangent again.  I do that.  I hope that does not discourage you from being a toucher.

When we get up, and mommy is making breakfast, and daddy is showering, I need to be touched.  This touching will go on through their breakfast, then stop while I am eating, because I don’t like to be touched while I am eating, and will continue for the rest of the day when I am not on one of my parents’ laps or being touched by one of them.  Your job description is if, at any point during the day, you see me not being touched, to touch me, and to stop when I am touched by one of my parents again.

(Notes:  No kissing involved unless I initiate it.  Since this job involves so much touching you will have to obtain an HR waiver before working with me.)

If you are interested in the job, please state your wishes in the comment section.  My assistant Pocket Dog will be in touch with you.

Thank you from one severely under touched Griffon.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Where the hell is that damn kid?

Pups of the Week: Buddy Boy and Luca

Buddy Boy Smith

Occasionally there is the perfect match between dog and parent. Buddy Boy Smith and his mom were the perfect combination of unconditional love and devotion.

I keep tabs on my human friends via Facebook.  His mom posted frequently.  Her favorite subject was how her big Rotti/Lab Buddy Boy.  We could tell by her sweet words, and the legion of pictures she posted, her love for Buddy Boy.  When we looked in Buddy’s deep brown eyes, we saw the love for his mom in her brown eyes.

But we worried too.  Newfoundlands are not known for their long lives, and Buddy was getting older.  We dreaded the inevitable post that Buddy was showing signs of slowing down.

We first saw one in the fall.  We prayed hard; we sent Buddy strength, but that heartbeat rule that I have written about habitually worked against Buddy.  On Christmas day Buddy came to Rainbow Bridge, under heavy clouds of his mom’s, and their friend’s tears.

Buddy did not arrive quietly.  Even the hardiest Yorkie cannot contain a distraught Newfoundland determined to run back to his mom.  It was one of the hardest crossings we have endured.  It took all of Buddy’s friends to understand he could not go back to his beloved mom’s side. Finally, Buddy laid down in a puddle of her tears licking them.

I sat next to him.  A Yorkie does not desert a friend in need.  He finally arose, and nodded, accepting his fate,   Scooby had designed beautiful wings for him.  Ladybug made sure they fit perfectly.  Smoochy taught him how to fly to the moon and back.  Tommy Tunes took him on a varmint hunt.  

It is winter in Northeastern Canada so it will be several months before Buddy can visit his mom as a butterfly or other pretty flying creature, but Leo taught him how to fly into the sun, and become a ghost so that he can sit with his mom.  He is working on his energy.  It takes a lot of physical exertion to ghost.  But he is becoming stronger.

And he learned how to visit his mom in her dreams, which helps him with missing her, but since dreams are often wiped away by the morning light, they are not helping his mom.

Buddy Boy is getting settled.  He is beyond the need for prayers.  But we think his mom is going to need plenty to get through the heartbreak of losing her soul mate.  Everyone gets a lot of new prayers on New Year’s Day.  If you can, send some Buddy Boy’s mom’s way.

Luca

It was a busy week at Rainbow Bridge.  First Buddy Boy arrived and then Luca.  I was shocked to see my beautiful friend from Argentina coming up Enzo’s escalator.  He had not been sick, there had been no prayers for him, but he too ran out of heartbeats with little notice.

When I began the Tanner Brigade site, Luca was right with me from day one.  He was the one who suggested that we have a birthday group and parties, and started other groups as well.  He was a constant presence in our lives.  We loved him like a brother.

There are freedoms that we dogs have come to take for granted:  The freedom of a good house, of food, of loving parents.  And there is the Freedom to Bark.  But some countries don’t share these freedoms, and Luca’s beloved Argentina became one of those countries.

For years after that, we rarely heard from Luca.  Anything that was written could be read by someone in the government, and that could lead to trouble for Luca’s parents.   Eventually, as is always true with human governments, those restrictions were lifted, and Luca could communicate more openly with us, although he no longer had the Freedom to Bark that we had.  I can not foretell if having our freedom to bark restricted is in our past, or in our future, but Luca taught me never to take it for granted.

He too arrived under clouds of tears. Frankly, it is sadder when a dog arrives with no tears.  Luca realized his fate and was greeted by hundreds of old friends.  Clint built a fire and Luca’s friends gathered around.  He told them story after story, and soon everyone was howling with laughter.    He grinned ear to ear, his Freedom to Bark had returned.

He learned how to ghost, and was back by his mom’s side, and even though a New Year is upon us, it is summer in Argentina, and there are lots of pretty flying creatures to slip into and visit his mom and his brother Junior.

I was hoping that, having two friends arrive so close together, would mean that I would not would not see any soon.  But after Luca’s campfire had been extinguished I turned and saw another friend crossing the Bridge.