The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

Hobo Hudson has always been an extraordinary dog.  Author, investor, business owner, adventurer, he is a trailblazer and a true renaissance dog. I missed my long chats with Hobo when we became separated after I arrived at the Bridge.  Now that he is with me again I drop by his home every morning for coffee.   This morning I found him in his backyard, sitting in a lawn chair, looking over his pool, deep in thought. “What is wrong, old friend?” I asked. “I went to visit my dad in his dreams last night,” Hobo said .   “He said Wyley is missing me and needs a sibling.   Of course, I recognized the fib .  While Wyley does miss me, so do my parents, and they are the ones  longing for the sound of four more paws on the floor in the morning.” There’s a standard procedure we angels follow to find our parents’ next pup.  We zip from shelters to rescues searching for candidates, then interview each one until we find the most suitable unrescued pup.  From there we whittle the applicant

I have become a member of a chain gang, and I have not been convicted of any crime. Before my sentence, when Pocket and I were taken out together, Daddy held our four-foot purple Kong leashes in his right hand.  If Mommy is with us she holds Daddy’s left hand while we walk. (Even our older neighbors, who have been married 700 years, find this behavior schmoopie).  Pocket and I walk ahead of our parents two feet apart. This gives my sister and I a chance to do our own thing. We can sniff what we want to sniff. We can give each other a wide berth during bodily functions.  And we can both suddenly, while walking in front of our parents stop, almost getting rear-ended and causing a two person and two dog crash. I had no idea there was any problem with this arrangement.  Sure, Pocket and I, during our walks, would continually dip behind one another so that we could be the one closest to our parents.  We continued to do so until our leashes became twisted 10,000 times like a big, lon

I don't think you know how this game is played.  Once again I am going to count to ten and you need to go hide.

How many times do you eat each day?  Do you have any "human" food in your meal?  Are there any supplements you add to your food?  Are you a free feeder?  Do you have a bowl?   Does your mom cook for you?  If you eat kibble do you have the same type of food with the same protein each time? Wow, you ask a lot of questions.  We eat twice a day but I have a little plate of food at night while River has her treat bone.  We have pumpkin and a few slivers of turkey with our food.  We don't have any supplements but we have started taking something to help my anal gland.  We don't free feed.  We eat off a plate and we make a mess.  No, mom doesn't cook for us.  We have the same food all the time because of my IBS. - Pocket 

I hate when two friends come to the Bridge during the same week.  I prefer to write about one angel a week. A Pup of the Week blog is one of a dog’s last big shout-outs on social media, and each dog should be the star of their own blog.  Bailey, whose pack is celebrated on the Portuguese Water Blog arrived at the Bridge ten days ago but, since poor Sully arrived first, I wrote about him last week. Thankfully we did not have any friends’ passing over this week so I can give Bailey the tribute she deserves. I first saw Bailey’s silhouette as the big, black dog quickly crossed the Bridge while giving the water a wary look.  She ran up the stairs. Cancer, in the form of a large mass in her chest that had attacked Bailey’s body and kept her in pain her later years was gone  She kept running faster, enjoying her newfound body until she stopped on the landing in front of me. “Welcome Bailey,” I said. “I couldn’t help but admire your running.  Were you anxious to come here?” “No,” Bail

When Summer came to Rainbow Bridge, we knew we would not be seeing her much because she was going to be spending her days at her lake watching over her momma and her house as an angel.   Little did we know she wasn’t at the pond but working overtime to find her parents a new dog to love. Summer knew she not only needed a dog which her mom would cherish but one who deserved it.  Summer was searching for an unrescued dog who would appreciate the attention, the toys, the love, and most of all Lake Lutgen that sits on the family property. Summer decided to start her search in nearby St. Louis.  After interviewing several dogs, she saw one who was not on her list, a pittie dutifully looking after the other dogs. Summer approached the dog and said she was interviewing pups to be her new mom’s heart baby. The pittie smiled and said thank you, but she had been in the shelter for a year and had given up on ever finding a forever home.  Her job was to comfort the new dogs who arrived at

At the end of June River wrote a funny blog about how we like to scoot on rugs.  Boy were we wrong! My scooting increased last week and my parents entered the “keep an eye on it,” stage.   On Monday, when I took a poop on my walk, my Dad was keeping an eye on was my butt, which, when I completed the poop suddenly my butt looked like the faceless Nichlos Cage in “Face Off.” Dad rushed me home.   He told Mommy they had a problem.  Then he picked me up. How was I the problem?  I was feeling good. A little too much junk in the trunk but I’m no spring chicken anymore.   Mommy looked at my butt and agreed it wasn’t good.  She said it looked like I had impacted anal sacs.   They immediately called the vet to make an appointment for the following afternoon. The next day, after my parents went to eat with Mommy’s brothers and their wives, it was time to see the vet.  I was very excited to go there.   They are kind to me there and often give me toys and treats. We were brought into

"My parents couldn't afford the cone of shame so they got me the duck of air."

Who and how are your nails cut? Pocket:  Our nails are cut by our groomer.  

I have two social network friends who live near me.  Petey, who just celebrated his 20th birthday, lives in Brockton,  20 miles to the north, and Sully, who this week joined me at the Bridge, lived 20 miles to the south in Fall River.  Sadly, I met neither before I arrived at the Bridge, but my parents, and Pocket and River were lucky enough to go nose to butt with Sully at our friend Pokey’s house Sully came to the Bridge after being diagnosed with dementia at the age of 13.  His doctor suspected it before the more severe symptoms appeared. .As the disease progressed Sully became incontinent both in the house and in the bed, he got lost in the yard, stopped during walks to bark at nothing and paced around the house. His Momma Lisa knew that she would have to ease Sully’s pain and guide him to the Bridge where he would regain his faculties but before that since she was on vacation until the middle of August, she decided to devote her time to her beloved boy, and she created the

Rainbow Bridge is usually a very peaceful place, but when you have lots of souls living in the same place for eternity conflicts do arise.  Luckily we have the German Shepherd police department who uphold the law. If a scofflaw is a constant problem, then he comes before a judge, such as I, who rules if the dog has to go to the Bad Place.  I have never sent a dog there; I don’t have it in my heart.  Unfortunately, this creates many repeat offenders and the police get angry at “activist judges.” One morning my friend Fella and I were splitting a banana split at Otie Campbell’s ice cream shop.   One of the German Shepherd police dogs came in and walked up to me.  “We caught Jax Jackson pooping in front of the police station again this morning, we arrested him,” he said, referring to one of our repeat offenders. “I know,” I said after swallowing a scoop of bacon and kibble ice cream.  “He came before me this morning. Jax promised never to do it again, and I let him go.” The Germ

Our friend Phenny from France loves to blog about his parents’ failed attempt to complete DIY projects.  We have the same troubles at our house. Although our plans are straightforward, my parents still struggle to finish simple tasks, like hanging blinds. I hate to see the torture devices, commonly called the hammer, screwdriver, both electric and manual, nuts, bolt and screws brought into the house.  Those devices are not used to torture me. My Daddy uses them as a means of self-torture. We live in a modular home.  It was built somewhere else, put on a truck, and delivered to the site where we reside.  Modular homes are quaint and inexpensive which my parents like, but the walls are made from paper mache and cardboard.  Chances of hanging something on the wall heavier than a piece of paper are slight unless a stud is located. My mommy has never found a stud, just a daddy. Daddy brought the tools and the blinds into the bedroom.  I stayed in the kitchen, cringing at every shar

Oh gosh, is this a plastic straw?  Can I have it?  Soon I will have the only plastic straw in the world I   will be king

What is your sleep position? Pocket:  I curl into as tight a ball a possible and I keep my butt covered. River Song:  I like to stretch my front and back legs as much as possible to take up as much room as I can.    

When a boxer or wrestler passes away, their contemporaries gather around the ring as the timekeeper rings the bell ten times. When Moose crossed over Rainbow Bridge this week,  joining his DS friends and his sister Sydney, the bell rang ten times, because a true warrior had joined us. Moose was born into a life without love.  Little is known about Moose’s life before Momma Michelle adopted him. She and Papa Mike worked hard, with little Moose, who had that time was known as Sonic.  Moose did not like people and was convinced all humans intended to hurt him. He learned not to lunge at, or try to bite, people. Moose was not vicious; he was just scared.  If not for his parents Moose may have been deemed too dangerous to adopt and sent to the Bridge before he even learned how to live. Learning not to be afraid and to trust humans was Moose’s first battle, and he emerged victoriously .  He also mastered how to sit, roll over, lay down, dance, twirl, shake, high five, wave goodbye,

All angels, of every kind, have closets filled with the bodies they used during their lives.  We can choose a different shape and be a different age every day. On Monday I am a puppy and on Tuesday, a senior dog.  It’s all up to me.   Most of my bodies look the same, but it is still good to have choices. Humans have lots of bodies to choose from .  They have little kid bodies, old person bodies, fat bodies, skinny bodies, whatever they are in the mood to wear.   Everybody they have ever used is ready to be worn.  Somedays I see my human friends as little kids zipping by on their skateboards, others as wizened seniors.   Then there are some who can’t stop wearing the body they arrived in. These people are stuck in their old, broken down elderly bodies. They have inhabited these frames for so long they are afraid to abandon them .  Sadly, their bodies do not let these folks participate in many Bridge activities. That is when we dogs step in to help them. Dogs are often used

It’s hot!   I spent the first year of my life in Florida, and it’s hotter in Massachusetts.  When I was down south, I thought the north was a place where it snowed all the time, and people drank ale to keep warm.  Fake news! Massachusetts is terribly cold, then, one day in March, it gets hot, and stays that way until November when it snows four feet.  What a miserable place to live.   Give me Florida’s unbearable heat and then not too hot winter to Massachusetts’ unbearable heat and then unbelievable cold.   The heat upsets our lives as much as the cold does .   When it is hot we can’t go on long walks, or spend time in our buggy overseeing the garden work, which means it is done wrong by our well-meaning but unskilled parents, while Pocket and I run from one enclosed porch door to the other barking “no, no, don’t plant it there, it doesn’t thrive in the sun.” It is very frustrating.  I feel guilty when I get outside and see the suffering plants. “Oh River,” a new flower will w

Having you gone through training classes?  Do you respond to voice or verbal commands? Pocket:   No training for me and boy does it show.  If I was a big dog I would be trouble. River Song:  I got trained at Petco.  It was great. I was trained all alone and everyone in the store played with me.  Later on we found out I was trained by someone in grooming and not a real trainer.  But I am still good. I respond to voice commands.

On August 4 Summer departed for Rainbow Bridge leaving the world a colder place and darker place.  She left her loving parents, Debra and Mike, and her cherished Lutgen lake to begin her life as an angel. Summer loved the water, and she was very fortunate to have her a lake on her property.  Last week she came out of the water bleeding from the throat.   Her parents thought that she had burst a blood vessel from too much water intake. That injury should have healed quickly. But over the next few days, Summer kept bleeding. Our water loving girl was taken to the vet and underwent x-rays and an ultrasound.    Something was spotted on her lung.   Everyone prayed it was pneumonia.  When Summer did not respond to treatment, her parents knew it was not pneumonia but much worse.   Summer tried to hide her illness, so her parents didn’t know how sick she was.   No matter how hard she strived to act, healthy her parents saw through her efforts.  Summer passed on her food, her energy

One day I was walking along the river bank with two of my oldest friends, Auntie Gretchen’s Angel Bisket and Auntie Judi’s angel 12.    We saw, lying on the grass, a stinky, orange blob.  I wanted to avoid it, but Bisket has always had an inquisitive mind.   He poked at the blob with his paw . “Excuse me!” the blob said. Bisket ran behind 12, a huge Newfoundland,  and I jumped on the big dog’s back. “What the hell is that?” I asked to no one. “I am Ollie, the octopus,” the blob said.   “A short while ago,  I minded my own business floating in the ocean when a stupid shark bit me in two.  The shark said I was going to be fine, soon I would be at Rainbow Beach, but instead, I ended up in this stupid river.” 12 laid down so I could get off of him .   “I have been at the Bridge a long time and have never heard of Rainbow Beach,” I said, slowly approaching the blob. “Well, I never heard of Rainbow Bridge,” Ollie answered.  “We were told all ocean animals go to Rainbow Beach. I

What a week we had!  I am going to have to sleep until September to make up for it. All the problems began last year, when the two-year-old HVAC unit stopped working, causing my parents to install two insufficient window units to try and protect us from the broiling heat. It worked, as long as we did not stray too far from the units.  The original one was supposed to be under warranty, so my parents asked me to draw up court documents, and they prepared to sue the service company. During this time our tankless hot water heater started to work intermittently.   One minute would be hot water, the next cold, then hot again.. My parents first said they would address this after the HVAC unit issue was resolved, and, once it was, Mommy wanted to wait until spring so the plumbers would not track dirt on her floors.  (My Daddy has to remove his shoes when he goes inside. We are lucky we don’t have to remove our paws.) In October my parents were awarded money for the HVAC system and h