The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

On Monday, one of my favorite plants, butterfly bush number 2, needed an operation.  We had a hard winter, and one section of the bush became bent and was scraping the driveway.  Mommy and Daddy studied the patient. They discussed cutting back the bush and removing the scraping section down to the root.  One of them suggested to try to tie off the bush to keep in standing, but the ground was too soft and the bush too strong. Pocket and I were in our buggy.  I calmly listened and tried to determine the best course of action.  Pocket fretted over her favorite bush and only mumbled nervously. She would be no help.  The bush’s future was in my paws. “We need to trim the back of the bush and completely cut the front,” I said confidently.    “Oh no, we can’t trim any of the bush!” Pocket cried.   Her worrisome nature was annoying. “I am not sure River,” Mommy said.  “What if the bush doesn’t come back?” “Dammit Mommy, I’m a doctor, not a pathologist.  !  But I know how to save

I'm telling you I found chopsticks and a lo mein box.  I have almost reached China.

On this Memorial Day please name the pets you are remembering this day Foley Monster Sky Jax Copper Blake Gizmo Barney Nico

On April 24 my sister River Song got this message from our friend Stella. “Dear Mrs. Marsha:  This is Stella Rose just in case you thought it is that crazy ass ferret Ed , I just wanted to clarify.  So anyway in case you didn't know I have been sick AGAIN, wif those damn stones and I wanted to address somefing wif you.  I know your River has connections wif the "Big Guy" and I wondered if you could discuss something wif River and him for me. I decided I wanted to share my plan, wif you, and River and I guess the "Big Guy".  So when the time comes and the medicines stop working, I have decided I am not crossing over to the Rainbow Bridge, I am only going 10 steps across, and putting up a pup (lol) tent, and building a fire wif smores, and just waiting around on my mom. Even if it takes 50 years, I am just going to wait.   Now I am sure there are rules and fings up there, so that is why I need River on my side about this. So I hope I am not putting you in

With all the new angels we have greeted this month it was time for me to have a girl’s night out.  I gathered my good friends Whitley the Westie who whipped up some awesome clothes for us to wear, Pepper, always a fun little girl, and Sophie-Rae, the most loyal lady I know, who I had to pry from her brother’s Jasper side with the promise of many free Foleytinis. First I took my girls out dancing.  Whitley is an expert jitterbugger. She is small but her little white paws move quickly.  Sophie-Rae is more of a ballroom girl and every boy in the place wanted to whirl her around the dance floor.  Pepper got up on the bar and kept every entertained with her twerking while I crowd surfed across the floor. Then we went to Hawaii.  We didn’t want to make light of the terrible problems the volcanoes have caused but when you and your squad get a chance to ride the lava you can’t pass it up.  We were all shot high in the air by the warm liquid and then we went flying down the mountain fas

I don’t get to go to church often, so I need to make my confessions here and now. Sometimes I pretend I don’t want to eat when I actually do. My parents give me attention and eventually more food. I give River a mean look which causes her to snap at me and then I whine and get lots of snuggling from my parents. On walks, when I want to sniff the ground longer, I pretend to pee because my parents don’t pull on the leash when I am peeing. I have eaten both grain free food and food full of grain, and they both taste like crap. Actually, that isn’t true.  If River poops on the pads and I  get there first, I eat her poop, and I like it more than kibble. Sometimes, I will bark for no reason in the middle of the night to make my parents move so I can sleep on the warm spot on the bed. During walks, when I endlessly bark at my neighbors, I am criticizing their fashion choices.  Long pants and flip-flops together annoy me. If parents can yell at the TV during sporting events,

I told you we had pigs.  You said, "oh no, how could we have pigs." Well, not only do we have pigs but we have pigs in a blanket.  I swear, no one ever listens to the dog.

What do you do that always makes your parents smile? Pocket:  When I paw at my parents with a particular pathetic expression because I am sad and want attention. River:  When my parents are eating supper, and they have some kibble on the table for us, and I want a kibble, my eyes dart back and forth from one parent to the next and then at the kibble as if I am saying "I would like one of those please." 

Life is often cruel.  Even after nearly five years at Rainbow Bridge, I don’t understand why terrible things happen to wonderful people.  No one on either side of the River of Life does. There are theories: The aggrieved party is being tested. There will be a greater reward for them someday.  I wish I knew if this was true. I just know senseless things continue to happen to people who deserve only the best. I have been friends with the Min-Pin Gang for as long as I can remember.  Crickette Anne joined me at Rainbow Bridge in October 2014. She has been a prayer leader for her sister Mouse who has has been battling illnesses for months.   Little did any of us know we should have been praying for her brother Scooter. Two weeks ago, in the midst of Mouse’s health issues, and their mom, Aunt Betty, being at the end of her emotional rope, Scooter began to experience throat reflex, gagging, and was licking the floor.  Scooter had been his mom’s rock during Mouse’s crises. Now his cri

Another week is gone, and more of my friends have arrived at Rainbow Bridge.  I will not let a single one pass through the gates at the end of Rainbow Bridge without paying tribute to them.  Hopefully, my words can bring just a single second of comfort to their bereaved parents because if we can’t provide comfort for friends in need what is the point of existence? A month ago I wrote about Jessie, my Blogville friend, who passed over the Bridge, a victim of renal failure, just short of her fourth birthday.  Having young dogs arrive here is particularly hard as we can see the future they could have had with their family if they had not been so unfairly claimed by illness.  What makes these premature passings even more tragic is they usually have an older sibling who is closer to the age dogs mortal lives end. Casey is Jessie’s big brother.  As much as their mom loved Jessie she knew, from the moment that she met Casey, that they would share a bond that she would never experience

I am not, by any means, an easy dog.  I do not like to be picked up. If I want to be with you there is no stopping me.  I have been known to, in bed, leaning against one of my parents so hard that my 14 pounds can shove them off the bed.  I also, if I want some Dad kisses, can jump up on the recliner, stand on his chest, and pleasure myself. Without the desire for licks, I become very shy about getting up in the chair.  It’s not that I can’t do it. When my parents are out of the house they know I have been on the chairs and prowling the end tables.  This Saturday I somehow turned off the Alexa Soothing Music For Dogs with Separation Anxiety and turned on the TV, Just so you know Amazons’ Soothing Music For Dogs with Separation Anxiety sucks.  I don’t know where they find these hipster crooners but their tepid tunes don’t soothe me but rather incite me to find a hammer and smash the tiny Echo so I can pace, worry, and drool in peace. After several tries adjusting my bark I was

"So you found out!  Well, I don't care. We are in love.  Who is to say it is wrong? You? The world?  Well, we are done playing by your rules man! Now shut the door and leave us alone.”

Can you do any tricks? Pocket:  I was raised with Foley who found doing tricks to be demeaning to dogs.  I wished I learned them.  They do make our parents happy. River:  I can shake hands.  I can also walk backward on two legs but that is not a trick it is just a way to keep my eyes on my food bowl while walking to where I know it will be placed.

Fifty years in the future I sit correcting papers for my Dog Lawyers class at Hobo Hudson University.  I am one of the hundreds of teachers instructing unborn puppies the laws that must not be broken to fulfill Hobo’s dream to make the world a better place. This has been Hobo’s dream since he arrived at Rainbow Bridge in a rush.  He was talking before I could finish my induction. “The world is such a mess,” Hobo interrupted.  “The key is that souls are born knowing nothing, but what if they knew right from wrong immediately and grew up as moral, fair-minded souls?   Life would certainly be better.” I didn’t have time to agree with him before he buzzed by me, his friends and family who had arrived to greet him.  He went right to the library where I found him sitting on the floor surrounded by plans. “Hobo,” I said softly, “a lot of dogs have different reactions when they arrive here.” He held up a paw.  “No time Foley. I have a meeting with Aristotle. He read the proposal I s

Normally I wait until Sunday to announce my Pup of the Week but when two giants depart for the Bridge within two days of one another both need to be honored with their own blog.  Today, sadly, I am writing about sweet Daisy . The cruelest reasons that souls pass to the Bridge are usually ones that start out quite ordinary.  Daisy was constipated. She went to the doctor who gave her some medication. The constipation passed, but she would not eat.  The vet said she had gas and gave her more medication. But, even with the medicine, Daisy still showed no interest in food. She grew weaker and was no longer the fun-loving dog we all knew.  There was little to be done to for her. Her father gave her the most precious gift and sent her to the Bridge. Her dad will be happy to know that when Daisy crossed the Bridge, she did so running.  Daisy, when she was on the mortal side, loved to run. She spent a lot of time on the farm with her dad.  There were acres to run and play with her br

Warm weather has finally arrived in our little corner of the world.  We had a glorious garden day on Monday. All the flower beds have been cleaned and new buds are coming up every day.  The grass is green, thick, and tickles our paws. St. Anthony is out of the shed and back watching over our blossoms. We are enjoying the longer walks spring brings. We bark a loud hello to all our elderly neighbors who love to joke with us by saying “Oh God, not those two, loud little dogs again.”  Longer walks mean going to areas we have not explored in months and getting caught up on pee-mail we have missed. Mr. Lancaster has been sneaking in Mrs. Smithers while his wife is at work, according to his dog Pepper.  That Mr. Lancaster is a scamp. Here are some of the updates I left for my friends via my pee-mail. The warmer weather has allowed my parents to turn on their new HVAC unit.  Three years ago they had another new unit installed with a five-year warranty.  After two years it no longer wo

The good news is that Henry lived all his nine lives to the fullest.  The bad news was he had to live his seventh as a complete imbecile

How in tune are you with your parents' emotions?  Can you tell when they are upset? Pocket:  I am very in tune with my parents.  If they get the least bit upset, even if they don't show it at all, I get down and go into my cat house. River:  I'm aware but I just chill and wait for the moment to pass.

This week tear filled clouds opened up and poured down rain on us as Hannah Banana the GSD, our longtime friend, one of the bedrocks of Doggyspace, lifelong companion and heart dog to her mom Aunt Connie, and giant of the dog world, crossed the River of Live via Rainbow Bridge and became immortal. There was a time when it seemed every dog on social media knew Hannah Banana.  She was strong, courageous, intelligent, loyal and focused and those attributes are shown through as our humans read the posts her mother helped her compose and saw pictures of her brilliant face on their timelines   German Shepherd owners rarely get another breed after owning a GSD and Hannah was the personification of why. Hannah grew older, as we all do.  Dogs are only born with so many heartbeats, and despite her and her mom’s best efforts, Hannah’s expired.  Everyone on the mortal side knew when she had passed. It was as if something big had been ripped from the world.  I think all the souls on that si

There are no countries at Rainbow Bridge.  Once we cross over we all belong to the same land.  It is harder for humans to adjust to this than dogs.  We never identify ourselves with a specific country This week I decided to visit a famous Russian dog.  Her name is Laika and she is known for being the first living creature in space. She lives high up on a mountain, fitting for a dog who touched the stars.  In 1957, at the age of three, she was selected (although she claims she volunteered) to be the first animal in space. “I was very proud,” Lakia told me soon after she allowed me into her cabin and poured me a strong drink of vodka. “It was an honor.  I was the greatest dog in all of the Soviet Union.  I was cheered wherever I went. Then came the day to blast off.  I was put in a vessel on top of the rocket. Everyone told me I was a good dog.  I got a pat on the head. ‘Goodbye Lakia, you have been a good dog,’ my handler said. “I licked him and then, with my eyes, asked wh

I like to smell like a dog.  I want to have the scent of outdoors deep in my hair:  A combination of the grass I playfully roll in, the dirt I walk through and the smell on my whiskers from whatever I stuck my nose in.   My Dad likes that smell.  When I am sitting with him, or we are lying in bed, and he gets a whiff of me in my natural state he finds it comforting. Mommy does not appreciate it.  She thinks that we should smell like shampoos and conditioners that come in bottles.  She wants to wipe away the natural scents and replace it with something artificial like strawberries. Pocket is not any help.  As much as she likes her walks she prefers the artificial fruit smell too.  Sometimes I think she is barely a dog. It seems like as soon as I get the perfect amount of outside scent on me, Mommy decides it is bath time.  I think her olfactory settings are malfunctioning. She doesn’t know a good smell when she whiffs it. Like clockwork, when I smell my best, the tub faucet

The neighbor's pig?  Haven't seen him.  Why do you ask?