Wordless Wednesday

Best This Capton

Pup got your tongue?

Monday Question

If you could dress up as anything you wanted what would it be?

Pocket: A nurse

River Song:  A cowboy

Chase and Gucci are our October 28, 2018 Pups of the Week

Dogs are put on Earth to care for their parents above all others. But, sometimes two dogs become so codependent that their bond with one another trumps that of the bond to their parents, and they cannot live without each other.

I met Chase and Gucci a decade ago at Doggyspace where parents communicated through their pups.  There were no affiliations, no Democrats or Republicans, just people learning to be like their dogs, living in the moment, not worrying about what comes next.  These were the days before Facebook and Twitter took over the Internet when friendship mattered more than opinion, which people now carry like a flag that needs defending.

When a dog comes into their parent's lives, they must take care of their humans.  When the pups age their parents begin to take care of them. There are times each day that tether moms and dads to their dogs. They have to be there for shots and medication.  The dogs become even more of a constant in their parent's lives, and the bond grows stronger.

When Momma Sherri welcomed Chase and Gucci into her house, it became a home, because that is when the dwelling became filled with love.  For years they lived happily together. But little love filled doggies can’t go on forever, and Gucci made her trip over the Bridge first.

Gucci refused to be sworn in.  “Chase is coming,” she said. “He gave mom half his heart, and me a quarter, so he only has a quarter of his own, and it is going to be very hard for that sweet, sick boy to live with only a small part of his heart doing all the work.”

Gucci was right.  Once his sister was gone Chase was like a dog without his shadow.  He was lost, and, like a shadow at sunset, he faded. His mom prayed for Chase to stay but he no longer had it in him and, like she had three days earlier with Gucci, she let him go by taking all the pain he was feeling into her heart, freeing him to be young and healthy again.  In trade, Momma Sheri gave up the right to see him during her mortal life. In three days she went from having a home filled with love to a house that just gives shelter. All those little moments of love that brought her heart alive, the smiles, the sly glances, the pitter patter of paws, the tail wags, are gone, and her heart aches for them.  Once again another parent suffered an unimaginable loss.

Meanwhile, Gucci smiled as she heard the familiar sound of Chase’s paw falls on the Bridge.  She turned around, and Chase charged towards her. They had only been apart three days, but they greeted one another like it had been a lifetime.  They first held each other and cried because they were together, then they cried because their mom was alone. Chase swore he tried to stay with her.  Gucci said she understood. They vowed, as their mom’s angels, to bring a moment of happiness into her day, every day, and then to start doubling her happy moments until her smiles outweigh her tears. 

 There was no timetable for their mission to be completed. In fact, the loving duo could not figure out how to start.

They decided to sit by the river bank and think of ways they could make their mom happy.  They asked me, an experienced angel, to join them. We laid under the sun together, softly discussing a plan, until Chase and Gucci fell asleep, snuggled together, with the sun glistening off their fur, as they had for years.

I wish this blog had a happy ending, but not every story ends happily
.
But I hope, knowing her two babies were together again, lying in the sun, would give their mom just a moment of happiness.

It would be a good start.

Foley and Friends Go to the Circus and Become Liberators

This week the carnival came to Doggyspace.  I awoke to find a huge Ferris Wheel in the middle of our square.  I ran towards it. Other angels joined me, our tails wagging in unison. We came to the gate where a Great Dane stood.  He promised us wonders beyond imagination including The Bridge’s tallest man, the bearded lady, Cheng, and Eng the Siamese twins, and the wolf boy.  “This is awesome,” Buck said to me. “I can’t wait to see them.”

I ran to the Ferris Wheel and rode it with Brooklyn.  As always my Boston Terrier friend had a tennis ball in her mouth.  When we got to the top Brooklyn spit out the ball, and we watched it fall endlessly until it hit the ground and bounced high in the air.  We both let out howls of joy and then looked towards the horizon, boasting that we could see our moms’ house.

Brooklyn and I could have stayed on the Ferris Wheel all day, but there was a long line, and we weren’t selfish.  Brooklyn ran off to find her ball, and I went to the food stand. I bought cotton candy, ice cream, fried dough, and funnel cake.   Gizmo came over, and I split the food with her. I think we two Yorkies ate more in food than our combined weight. We had to lie down for a half hour to recover.

I met Brutus at the Duck Pond game. We tried to win several times then we began to think the schnauzer running the game was not on the level.  We attempted ball in the basket game too, but neither of us could get the ball high enough in the air to find out if the games were honest.

I ran to the roller coaster and got in the front seat next to Ruger. He was holding on to the front bar, drooling.  He told me that he had been on the ride for a half hour and refused to get off.  After one time of going high in the air and rushing back down, I left the ride to Ruger.  It wasn’t my cup of tea. Or my cotton candy which I upchucked, getting some on Ruger, who has always been a good sport.

I saved the freaks tent for last.  I met Sandy on his way out. I expected to see him happy, but he looked troubled.  When I inquired why he said that some of the freaks were kept in cages, and others were being watched over.  This couldn’t be right. I walked into the tent. Dogs were running around barking nervously.

I walked over to the Bearded Lady and asked her why she was with the carnival.  “I was in the carnival during my mortal life, and just continued to do so when I got here, we all did.”  She swept her arm at the other freaks, a word I liked less and less.

“Why don’t you just walk away?” I asked.

“Where would we go?  Even the nice people stare,” she lamented.

“You can all come live with us,” I said.  “Doggyspace takes everyone. We have humans, cats, squirrels, we even just took in a snake.  You wouldn’t be freaks with us. We are all different. Some of us have beards, some are tall, some are furry, some are bald, and all are welcome.  Just walk out with us.”

The bearded lady asked us to give her a moment; then she met with the wolf boy, the tattoed man, the strong man, the Siamese twins, and others.  When she was done, they all walked out.  The alligator, who was in charge of the tent, because no dog that loved animals would take that job, snapped at them to stay.  I announced that I, Judge Foley Monster of the Fourth District at Rainbow Bridge, had told them they are free to go.  The humans cheered.
Sandy and I triumphantly walked out of the carnival with our new friends. They happily moved into Doggyspace where they were accepted, and no one stared at them.


Because, as humans should know, dogs don’t care what you look like, but how you act.  I wish humans were as understanding as dogs.

Pocket is Not A Baseball Fan

The baseball team my parents root for, the Red Sox, are going to the World Series.  This is devastating news to a nervous little Yorkie like me.
I like a calm house.  An evening with my parents reclining in their chairs, watching something relaxing, like “Dancing With the Stars,” is perfect for me.  I find a lap, listen to the music, and float away.

I could be a therapy dog for humans coping with hypertension.  Whenever either of my parents tenses the slightest, I am next to them, using my right paw to jostle their arm.  I know what cures a tense human: Rubbing my soft fur.

Life certainly comes with enough tension: Money problems, illnesses, arguments, the state of the world.  There is no escaping it. So why do humans watch sporting events that makes them nervous and often leaves them sad?  It is one of life’s greatest mysteries.

It is bad enough that the Patriots keep going to the Super Bowl.  Year after year, no matter what happens, they are there. Does the rest of the country find this annoying?
  My parents begin the game quietly watching, but by the end, they are yelling, trembling, sweaty messes and I am hiding in my condo.  The good news is they only play once a week, and it gives me time to prepare.

But the Red Sox?  They are endless. We have a nervous night, and the next day, it occurs again.   The deeper into fall they go the worst it gets. I don’t like it.

There doesn’t have to be any shouting for me to get upset.  My mom is less invested in the games than my dad. By the time she gets nervous Daddy is having a full emotional breakdown.  First, his heartbeat increases and his breathing quickens. I move next to him and brush his arm with my paw. He either tells me it’s all right, just a false alarm, or he says to stop which means he is getting stressed out, or he orders me to hide in my kitty condo which is a sign that some yelling is about to commence.  

This is when Daddy is at the point when all my pawing and cuteness cannot help him.  He swears a lot, says mean things about someone named Kimbrel, and at the end, he has a conversation with the Lord, asking either why, God, why, or thanking him profusely.

Mommy tells me this should all be over by Halloween.

Oh no, Halloween is coming?  With the hoards of children dressed like fake ghouls or faker movie characters?  Now I’m really nervous.


Wake me up when October comes.

Wordless Wednesday

Monday Question

Do you wear a jacket and if so when do you wear it?

Pocket:  We do have jackets.  We wear them if it is raining or snowing.  If we are going on a walk and it is below freezing we put them on, but it has to be near zero for us to put them on just for a quick pee or poop.

October 21,2018: Axel is our Pup of the Week and Harlee is our Kitty of the Week

Two friends arrived at their Forever (And Ever) homes at Rainbow Bridge this week.

Momma Cindi’s boy Axel crossed the Bridge on Thursday.  His old body was giving out, and his mom gave him the ultimate gifts: Youth, vitality, strength, speed and a sharp mind.  The gifts were a tradeoff. To get these things for Axel Momma Cindi had to give up one of her most precious treasures, more time with Axel.  She would never see her baby again.

Parents have trouble understanding when they let us go that they are doing an eternal kindness.  We return to being puppies or any other age we choose. We have thousands of dogs to play with while we wait for that glorious day when pup and parent are reunited. 
 For us, while we miss our parents and mortal family and friends, we know the answer is patience.

Our parents have to give us up.  What a terrible trade that is. We dogs get everything, and our parents have so much taken away.  While our wait to be reunited is equal in length, our parents assume all the hard parts of mortal life while we can lay in the sun all day and enjoy immortality.  They do find joy after we cross over, the resilience of the human spirit is amazing, they have fantastic highs, and they fight through horrible lows to soar again, maybe with a small amount of assistance from their angels, but, being spirits, we remain humble and take no credit.

Axel, as soon as he crossed, asked me to convey all of the above to his mom and to let Auntie Cindi know that her wishes became true because he is once again happy, healthy, running and playing.  He is also visiting when he can, in dreams that are only remembered in the heart, as a flying creature buzzing by, or something that flickers by in the corner of the eye.

Axel accompanied me as we crossed over Doggyspace into Kittyland to await Momma Diana’s kitty Harlee.  We stood to the side as she was greeted by her cat friends, and was taught all she needed to know. Everything that is true of dog angels is true of cats so Momma Diana should keep her eyes peeled for the same signs from Harley.

Harlee recognized Axel and me as fellow Internet surfers.  The more you travel through cyberspace the more dust you accumulate.  Axel and I were filthy with it. That night Harlee, Axel and I sat under a spreading chestnut tree, traded our stories, we laughed until dawn.

We told our stories slowly and with great detail, because we had until our parents arrived, and for us, that was an eternity.

Foley Explains How Dogs Created Halloween

One of the advantages of being a dog at Rainbow Bridge is that you get to meet dogs from centuries ago and listen to their remembrances of bygone times.  There is much to be learned from these wizened creatures. From George Washington’s dog I discovered the first President was a terrible rapper, Abraham Lincoln’s dog criticizes his master for remembering to free the slaves but forgetting his walks, and Tom Edison dog said his dad was “just a lucky dullard.”

Recently I learned that dogs are the true creators of Halloween.  To fully understand all the details I had to travel back to the days of our wolf heritage.

We dogs are not much different from our wolf ancestors, we want to eat, and for many wolves the only food that was available was lamb.  To be able to sneak up on the lambs the wolves disguised themselves in their prey’s wool coats and feasted on them. The farmers, angry that they were losing their flock, took up arms against the wolves.

After months of wolf and lamb deaths, the wolves met with the farmers to work out an agreement.  On the last day of October, the wolves would be allowed to hunt the lambs without fear of retribution.  For one night they could put on their sheep’s clothing, mingle amongst them, and then attack, carrying them off and stocking up for the winter.  In wolf, speech lambs are called weenies. Just before attacking the wolves would remove their costumes and announce “Hallo-weenies!” Hence the present term for the celebration.

As we evolved and became domesticated, we kept our deal with the farmers, except for some rogue dogs, who would attack indiscriminately, and be ostracized from the pack.  Every Halloween would give us dogs the right to poach the livestock. Other animals joined in our agreement. Suddenly there were chickens in the hen house, dogs and cats disguised as raindrops falling from the sky, mice dressing as fish out of the water, and cheery turtles impersonating happy clams.  

The farmer’s children saw how happy we were and wanted in on holiday.  Soon, while we were dressing up like farm animals, they were costuming themselves as ghosts, goblins, and Ted Cruz.  Of course, we were jealous, because the lambs were more scared of a nine-year-old dressed like Ted Cruz then they were of us in lamb clothing.

As we became more domesticated our need to feed ourselves lessened as did our desire to wear costumes on Halloween.  We passed our right to dress up and have access to other people’s food to the children. Now we wait inside the warm house while the children wear lightweight costumes in the cold and shiver as they take the homeowner’s food.


That is the story of Halloween.  Now it’s a night when children dress up in frightening costumes, and the sheep sleep easier.

Pissing Contest: The Sequel

When I was a pup, before Foley got us barred from Doggyspace, she published a blog called “The Pissing Contest” chronicling Foley and me peeing on the same spot continually to get the last pee in.  Unfortunately, despite all the good that resulted from us being banned from DS, we lost access to our blogs, including Foley’s magnum opus about pee.

I would never dare to compare my writing ability to my sister, but it has bothered me for most of my life that the pissing contest blog had been dried up by the cold winds of history and I felt compelled to revisit the subject.

So, I present, “Pissing Contest II, a River Runs Through It.”  (I know, how disappointing! There are no original ideas in blogging anymore, just remakes and superhero origin stories.)

In the morning I am the first out of bed.  I accompany Daddy as he holds me with one hand and begins his own “pissing in the water bowl contest” with Mommy.   Mommy usually wins these contests, I guess the older you get, the better at peeing you become because humans sure do it more as they age.  Daddy then brushes his teeth. I like to lick off the excess paste. Then I am taken outside. I find the right spot to leave my first pee-mail, take a few steps, leave a postage paying poop near it, and go inside.

Next is River’s turn.  She can never find my pee.  She says she is not interested in finding it and is just emptying her bladder. Hah!  What dog pees just to relieve their bladder? I wait by the front door for them to return and when they do I go back outside with Daddy to find her pee spot and trump River’s piss.

I sniff her pee out quickly and cover hers, winning the first pee of the day.  Then the competition begins. I pee more time than River so I go out more, but River makes a bigger puddle than I do, so she has the advantage of volume.

I also have the disadvantage of having a smaller bladder.  The real key to this game is being able to hold your pee when you get outside, so your sibling pees first.  Unfortunately, River can hold her pee like a camel. I end up peeing first, but I try to dam the stream before my bladder is empty, then, when River is finished, I, the little squirt, try to leave a little squirt of my own to top River’s.  It is like River’s pee is the magazine, but I am the cover.

Sometimes I will think I have covered River’s pee when she lets out a little topping of her own.  I try to swallow a lot of salivae to stir up at third pee, which seldom works, sometimes I have one more drop in the tank, but usually, a second River pee means victory for her.

Before we go to bed, I demand a short walk before I poop.  I hold my pee until I get up the street. When River goes out after me, she does not want to walk up the road because she is anxious to go to bed.  I claim the final pee victory of the night.

River thinks she wins because she coves the most pee but I have the first and last piss of the day, so I think I win.

There will never be a true winner.  River and I are locked in an eternal battle of urination.  But I have one advantage, I am older, and if I am like mommy, I will have to pee more often, and swamp River’s pee with my own.


There are some good things about getting older.

Wordless Wednesay

Beat This Caption

No fank you!  I don't need no spoon.

Monday Question

What is your favorite thing to chew on?

Pocket:  I am not much of a chewer.  Maybe a stuffed squirrel.


River:  I have a Nyla Marrow Bone that gets stuffed with treats that is yummy.

October 14, 2018 Pups of the Week: Prayers for Reese, Lightning, R and Noah

Thankfully, for a second consecutive week, I had no mortal members of Doggspace, TB or Blogville cross the Bridge.  I can’t remember the last time two week passed without a crossing. We are very lucky.
But there are some of us who need prayers and, if you don’t mind, I would like to concentrate on them this week, starting with my bestie Reese.  I can’t believe my beautiful little boy is nine years old. I guess this is what happens when you while away five years of eternity at the Bridge.

Reese was such a sweet boy when I made my journey. He checked with my mom every day to see how she was coping with her loss and to smile at her.
Earlier this year Reese tore his ACL.  His Dad and their vet Linda discussed possible options.  They thought the best course was for Reese to keep off of his leg, take it easy and be put on anti-inflammatories and pain medication.  Unfortunately, Reese has never been good at staying off things or taking it easy. He has a brace that he refuses to wear, frustrating his dad.  But the good news is that Reese is putting more weight on the leg and is progressing. He is still going to need prayers before he is one hundred percent but, thankfully, he looks to be on his way.
Lightning, our young friend from the Chronicles of Woo blog, also has a torn ACL.  His mom and the vet elected for Lightning to have surgery.  It went successfully. But the homecoming has been problematic.

There has been some fluid leaking from the incision and occasionally blood too.  Lightning also has to go for cold laser treatment. During his last session, the vet tech Melissa told Lightning's mom that the incision looked good.  The leaking and bleeding were caused by him standing too long. His mom has been trying to keep Lightning off his paws as much as possible but he is a curious boy especially when he smells food being made, and parents only have so many eyes.   Also, poor Lightning cries during the night, then get restless and stand. He is doing better and is also walking, but he too needs lots of prayers.

Our great friend from the beautiful mountains, R, from the Romping and Rolling in the Rockies blog has survived wild winter, roaming bears and lions, and even a bionic elbow transplant that has kept R running.  Now this beautiful dog, who has the prettiest scenery of any dog we know, is slowly having his vision robbed from him by cataracts.  His parents are searching for treatments to help their boy, but they also know that nothing will break his spirit. If the worst happens, he will continue to romp and enjoy his beautiful surroundings while experiencing every scent.

Prayers for dogs often work.  Just ask my friend Noah from the Portuguese Water Blog .  Noah has had problems with his eyes since a battle with crypto.  He got colitis, and the medication led to chronic dry eye. A short time ago Noah got a cyst on his eyelid which kept getting bigger.  Plus, Noah scratched it and caused mucus to form. The cyst had to be removed. Noah had surgery on Tuesday and, after lots of prayers, by the end of the week, he was good as new.


See, prayers do work.  Let’s say lots of them so Reese, R, and Lightning can have the success that Noah did.

Foley Tries To Keep Bishop's Promise

The things I do to make a friend happy.
I got a direct message from my friend Bishop this week. He adopted a pet snake named Mr. Belvedere.   Bishop loves all creatures so it is not surprising that he would adopt a snake. I try to avoid the vile beings, but I am not in the position to tell a dog who they should and shouldn’t love.

Then something happened  I did not expect. First Mr. Belevedere passed over the river of life, not surprising because all beings must, then Bishop asked me to let Mr. Belevedere live with Bishop’s family at Doggyspace.  Of course, I promised I would.
But it really wasn’t my place to promise.  It was up to the Group Of Dogs who oversee Doggyspace.  I often have to go before them to defend my decision making or ask for special favors.  They are never happy to see me, and this favor was a doozy.

“Absolutely not,” the most senior member of the board barked at me.  “We cannot have snakes wiggling on the ground scaring all our angels.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “he might not be wiggling because he will have wings.”

“A flying snake!” The dog barked. “Are you daft? Remove yourself from our presence immediately.”

I backed out of the room.  I had failed my friend. But I knew I had one more tool in my arsenal.  Love.

I went to BIshop’s brother Apollo and told him the Board’s decision.  He was dismayed. Then we formed a plan. He went to the snake part of Rainbow Bridge, a vile, terrible place, with billions of snakes of different shapes and sizes all hissing at us.  We ran towards the Bridge as Mr. Belvedere arrived. Instead of letting him go to the snake land where we would never find him, Apollo told Mr. Belvedere that he was Bishop’s brother, got the snake to trust him, and, when Apollo opened his mouth the snake climbed in.  I jumped on Apollo’s back, and he outran the snakes back to our section of the Bridge.

Apollo opened his mouth, and Mr. Belvedere wiggled out.  I said we needed to go before the Board to get their approval for him to stay at Doggyspace.  Apollo assured Mr. Belvedere that I am a fantastic attorney who was going to convince the board that he should stay.  I wish I were as confident as Apollo.

Apollo and I brought Mr. Belvedere before the Board.  When the doors opened the members saw the snake, and they climbed on the table.  “Get that thing out of here!” one of them yelled.

“Please,” I said. “Let’s not get carried away.  I know it is unconventional, but Mr. Belvedere is part of Apollo’s family.  He is loved by Apollo’s brother Bishop. Isn’t Rainbow Bridge a place where, when you pass from the mortal world, you get to be with loved ones?   Bishop will want to see Mr. Belvedere again when he arrives. That is what this place is for, to reunite loved ones.”

“But it’s a snake!” a female poodle shrieked.

Mr. Belvedere scared them by standing straight up.  He then addressed the Board: “It may be unconventional, but I love Bishop.  I was his pet, and he’s my dad. If I cannot live happily with Apollo at the Bridge, we will go live with the snakes. At least they are inclusive.”

The Board felt ashamed.  The leader nodded and said that Mr. Belvedere could stay, but he needed to understand some dogs might be scared

“Then it is my job to educate them,” Mr. Belvedere said.  The Board agreed

And that is how Doggyspace got it’s first snake occupant, with wings.

River is Suspicious When Pocket Goes With Their Parents Alone

What the Barney Frank is going on at my house?

Two weeks ago my parents left me alone and took Pocket with them.  Why would they do that? What does Pocket have to offer that I don’t?  I am cute, witty, and charming. If need be my resting bitch face can chase off the most determined criminal.  How could they take Pocket and leave me?

When they got home, I cornered Pocket and asked her what was going on.  She told me she went to the vet because she had a rash on her belly. I made her roll over.  It looked red. I gave it a whiff. It didn’t smell like yeast. Pocket said it was ragweed. I had no idea what that smelled like.  I asked her what happened after the diagnosis. She said she got two shots, one for the infection and one to stop the scratching.

The whole thing seemed fishy to me.  When I have gone to the vet for allergies or infections, I have have had to take pills afterward.  Pocket was sent home with nothing but a red belly, which looked like it could have been drawn with a magic marker.  Very suspicious.

When I had my paw and ear infections I got checked a lot, I got pills, and, in the case of my ear, drops.  Pocket got picked up a couple of times a day, had her belly examined, and that was it.

I tried to get Pocket to tell me the truth.  There was someplace special they took Pocket.  Somewhere I wasn’t allowed to go! I had to find out where.

Last Thursday my parents went out with Pocket again, leaving me behind.  During the confusion of getting keys, the leash, shoes, and getting out the door, I slipped outside.  I ran to my neighbor’s house and knocked on her door. When she answered, I pointed to my parents’ car, then at her, then at her car until she asked.  “Do you want me to follow them?” I nodded. I know most humans would not acquiesce, but my stare is very powerful. She started her car, and I sat on the dashboard as we followed my parents.

Were they going to the beach?  A casino? A long walk? Or crap.  They were going to the vet. And I was stuck in an old lady’s car while she smoked Marlboro Lights and took a sip of coffee and what smelled like something stronger.  I told her we needed to get back home, but she said she wanted to go to the mall. I did not want to go to the mall. All the good stores have closed.

I snuck out of the car and hid under my parents’ vehicle.  After Pocket’s appointment, while they were getting her in the front seat, I snuck in the back. When we got home, I jumped out before they saw me and was able to excitedly greet them at the door.

“I saw you,” Pocket said once we were alone.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” I said, but Pocket knew that her health had never been a concern of mine before.

To keep her mouth shut I had to agree to lick her belly if the allergies come back.  The thought makes my stomach turn.

Now that there is something in it for me I am really worried about Pocket’s allergies.  I don’t want to be licking her tummy.

I would rather go to the mall.

Beat This Caption

Every night before I go to bed I do my kegel exercises 

Monday Question

How would you best describe the way you bark?

Pocket:  I have a high pitched bark that comes in several small, loud yips that can hit you like a knife being jabbed into your skull.  At least that's what Mommy says.


River:  I lay down a basic track of one long growl, and from that, I form an "O" with my mouth and let a quick, short, bark.

Hero Dogs Roddy, Nico and Asha are our October 7, 2018 Pup of the Week

It was a quiet week here, friend wise.  For the first time in months, I did not have to swear a friend in as an angel.  I have enjoyed the pleasant break.  But I still had to Christian, an angel.

Roddy is a beautiful black and brown dog who lived with his 84-year-old mom in Hlobane Farms, South Africa.  Two weeks ago the mom was cooking guava outside her kitchen when she heard Roddy bark.  Three teenage boys appeared with guns demanding cash and a cell phone.  The woman told them she had neither. Then Roddy appeared, eager to protect his mom.  He chased the boys, one of whom fired a gun, sending beautiful Roddy to the Bridge.
Roddy flew back to the mortal side to spend time with his traumatized mom.  He will be there until she is ready to depart and continue to try and protect her from the bad men in the world.  

Hopefully, my friend, Nico won’t be arriving at the Bridge anytime soon, but she is going to need prayers.  The 11-year-old pit bull was going on a pleasant walk with his 12-year-old skin brother and 11-year-old sister.  They were crossing the street when a man, late for work, whipped around a car and sped through a stop sign, driving towards the trio.

Nico got down on her haunches to protect the children.  The careless driver heard Nico barking and swerved missing the kids but hitting Nico, causing internal bleeding and breaking her pelvis.  The driver stopped down the road, to pick up a co-worker, who refused to continue onward unless the man took responsibility for his actions.  Surprisingly, the driver was not charged, but everyone agreed Nico was a hero.

Nico was rushed to the vet.  She needs to be kept quiet so the pelvis will heal, and requires future lung surgery to keep her from the Bridge.  We need prayers for her to recover and for the police to realize a dog struck by an irresponsible driver life matters as much as a human, and the driver should be punished.

Finally, in a story that we could all use during another maddening week,  I present Asha, a five-year-old golden retriever from Australia.  Asha was minding her own business when a joey koala scampered from the woods on a cold night.  The koala climbed up on the porch and looked at Asha. The goldie nodded, and the joey climbed on Asha’s back then snuggled into her fur.  The koala survived the night thanks to Asha sharing her body heat.
The next morning Asha’s parents awoke to this sight on their porch.  

Australians were used to different animals appearing on their property, but a koala sleeping on their dog was a new one.  Asha’s mom burst out laughing when she saw the duo.

The joey put up quite a fight when it was lifted from Asha.   The koala was turned over to a care facility, and when it is ready, it will be released into the wild.




Where I am sure, it will find Asha again because a good snuggle buddy is hard to find.

Foley Travels Back to the 50's to Find She Was Born at the Right Time

Despite humans’ assumptions that dogs watch TV, we ignore the annoying blather coming from the television.  When our parents find us staring at the screen they believe we are paying attention. Actually, we are trying to decipher what about the talking picture box so occupies our parents’ time.


There was one show that caught my fancy.  I was enraptured by the time-traveling adventures chronicled on Doctor Who.  I would love to time travel. Even after I crossed the Bridge, it was a secret fantasy of mine.

Yesterday morning I awoke to a whoorp, whoorp sound.  I opened my eyes to see a blue police box at the end of my bed.  I crawled from under the covers and saw that the blue box’s door was ajar.  I trotted to the edge and opened the door to see a vast room.
The blue box was the Tardis, the time machine the Doctor uses to travel.  I walked inside the room, impressed that the machine truly was bigger on the inside.  I yelled for the Doctor and the companions he travels with, but no one answered. Curious, I climbed on top of the Tardis’ controls and saw I could set any time to travel back and forward.

I did not want to go to the future; it’s mysteries will reveal themselves in time.  But I was intrigued about going to the past.

I programmed the controls for 1952.  The whoorping sounds began again and I felt the machine flying quickly through time worms. Then it stopped. I opened the doors and saw I was in a pristine park located at the center of Anytime USA.

There were dogs sniffing along a fence.  I ran to them “Hello,” I announced. “My name is Foley Monster, and I am from the future.”

One of the dogs, a dirty german shepherd turned to look at me.  “From the future?” he asked skeptically. “Why are dogs so small in the future?”

“We are not all small,” I said.  “I am a toy breed. A Yorkshire Terrier.’

The dogs laughed at the name.  “There is no way a toy breed can survive,” another dog said.

“I survive quite well,” I countered.  

“How do you eat?” a yellow lab inquired.

“Mommy pours my kibble from the bag.  She puts it on my plate, and I eat it.”

“Puts kibble on your plate?” the shepherd said stunned.  “We might get some table scraps after supper but anything else we eat we have to catch.  The other dogs agreed with him.

“How about when you go in the house?  Don’t they feed you then?”

“Go in the house?” the german shepherd was stunned.  “I have never stepped inside the house, that is where the humans live.”

“Where do you sleep?” I asked flabbergasted.

“Outside, in my doghouse, with wood chips on the bottom to keep me warm.”
That sounded horrific.  I asked the other dogs if they were allowed in the house.  They said they weren’t. “In the rain, the snow, the cold?”  I asked. No was all they said. This was horrible. I told them how I lived inside and only went outside to poop, pee and get walks.  “What’s a walk?” the retriever asked.

I could not leave these poor dogs in this prehistoric world. I told them I would take them back to the future with me.  “Oh no,” they all said, “we can’t leave our people,” I asked them how they could be so loyal? They have been left outside, not given quality food, not bathed (although I did not mention that because I did not want to insult them), how could they stay?

“They are our humans,” the shepherd said.  I understood. If I had lived as they did, I would still love my parents.  I would have been killed by an angry raccoon in my sleep, but I still would have stayed.  “It is good to know our grandchildren will have better lives,” the retriever said. 

“And since none of us are fixed we are going to have lots of grandchildren,” the shepherd said smiling.

I guess there were some good things about the 50’s.

I hurried home and gave thanks that I was born in 2001 when the world was more civilized and dogs were better appreciated, but I think we are all born when we should be born.

I went back to bed, and by morning the Tardis was gone which I was fine with since my time traveling days were done.  I rolled over in my bed and gave thanks I never slept outside near a mad raccoon, and never would.

Pocket Celebrates the Last Days of Garden Season with Pictures

It rained on Monday.  It was supposed to be our garden day.  When we awoke, it looked very promising.  The sun was high in the blue sky, and the air was warm.  Then suddenly, without warning, fall arrived.

We were outside, River Song and I in our buggy, when the sky turned gunmetal grey.  The clouds slipped one under another until the sky turned dark. Then the rain fell as Mommy deadheaded flowers and Daddy mowed the wet lawn.  Once the grass was cut Daddy told Mommy, there was nothing to be done that couldn’t wait another week.
Instead of working outside, getting smelly and wet, we were inside, where it smelled clean, pleasantly dry, and we took advantage of our cleared schedule to have a snuggle day.

The next morning it was still raining, but the air smelled crisper.  The wet grass was cooler on our paws. The green leaves had changed overnight.   They were now red, yellow and orange. They looked prettier. Leaves have that advantage. They are brightest just before the fall.

I wish the same were true of flowers.  I don’t like to brag, modesty is my calling card, but we had outstanding flowers this year.  They grew taller, bloomed brighter, and spread further than they had in the five years since my parents began gardening.  In August, when the air is hot, dry, and stale, it seemed like we were experiencing an endless summer. But all things, both bad, the oppressive heat, and good, the beautiful flowers, must come to an end.

It would be nice if flowers, like leaves, became their brightest just before they wilted. Sadly, they fade away, at first slowly, and then all at once.  What was once healthy, pleasing plants began to show their advanced age a week ago, and by Tuesday their stems were bent, their remaining blooms were trying to bury themselves in the warm ground before they expired.

Here are some pictures of our garden in August, when the flowers were in their prime, and it seemed outlandish that the day would come when they would no longer be the dominant feature in our yard.


Thankfully my parents fill the gardens with autumn flowers, cabbages, and mums, to ease the transition from the beautiful summer blooms to the stark winter landscape.  Pumpkins, purchased, not grown, are carefully placed in the gardens. Scarecrows also bought, are in the front garden, back by the house, not scaring any critters, but also not frightening me, so they are a neutral presence.  There are also jack o’ lanterns solar lights, which do scare me, but we are not outside long enough at night for the fear to linger.

The sun is lower in the sky during our walks, and will soon be gone, making us night walkers, with those little lights on our collars in the off chance we slip the leash.  And the air will get colder. Our leisurely, hot, panting walks of summer are in the past, becoming moderate walks now but will soon become hasty travels as our shivering parents hurry us along and deny our sniffing so they can return to the warm house


We are two weeks away from the comforter returning to our bed.  We love when it is cold in the house, and we are under the comforter, our body heat mingling with our parents creating a lovely layer of warmth.  River enjoys sticking her nose from underneath to breathe in the cold air while she remains warm.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Capiton

Let's see Mommy spend all day on the computer and ignoring me now.

Monday Question

What do you do with leaves when they fall?  Do you bark at them?  Play in them?  Chase them when they blow around?  Eat them?  Something else?

Pocket:  We bark and sometimes sniff and chase.  We think they are alive.