The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

There is something special about the relationship between dogs and parents when they meet as children and reach adulthood simultaneously. They are more like brother and sister than mom and dog. They become best friends, siblings, and confidants. Mama Natalie became Roxy's official mom when Natalie was 15 years old. Roxy was already part of the family having been born in her room.   On Natalie's birthday, it was decided that Natalie would be Roxy's primary caregiver. From that moment on, Roxy was Natalie's constant. There are many milestones young women encounter as they grow into adulthood. Achieving them can be frightening and painful. Natalie's journey was made more accessible because she had Roxy to comfort her with a lick on the hand and understanding eyes. Roxy made being a parent easy. She potty trained quickly. She never tore up anything she wasn't meant to tear.   All she wanted was to be petted. Heaven helps anyone who decided to end a petting se

I got a prayer request this week from the town manager in Toms River New Jersey. I answered it because I am a River expert or at least River adjacent. I popped into the city manager's dreams and asked him how I could be of assistance. He told me that the town had spent more than five million dollars to renovate their central park  Everyone enjoyed it until the geese arrived. Now the ground is covered with poop. DPW workers remove five pounds of geese poop a day. He begged me to answer his prayers and remove the vile winged creatures.  But, angels don't work like that. We suggest solutions to people's problems. We don't solve them.  I had a lot of geese experience on the mortal side.  Every August they would invade the state hospital grounds where we walked. They clogged up the paths and left poop everywhere.  Blake responded by eating it, a disgusting habit that not even Pocket in her early poop eating years replicated. Have you ever woken up next to someone with

Thursday, June 13, 2019:  Today, it rained. It flooded the back patio that leads to our pee area.  We had to put on our coats to walk twenty steps to the front pee spot near the mulch. The constant rain on the roof interrupted my rest time.  I hope this is a one-day event.  Friday, June 14, 2019:  Occasional showers today. The sky was dark from dawn onward  I noticed in the front garden where mommy had put an Amish wagon with a flower pot on the seat, that the pot flooded and the flowers all died.  I thought the rain was supposed to bring flowers, not drown them.  Saturday, June 15th, 2019: Rainy and cool today. We did get a few sunny spots in between the showers. River and I pretended that we didn't know what the sun was because it's been so long since we've seen it. Our sense of humor has helped us as a species during the most difficult times.  Sunday, June 16th, 2019:  More depressing rain this morning. Thankfully by afternoon, the sun poked through the clouds an

When was the last time you were bit by a tick? Pocket:     River and I have been fortunate not to get a tick bite since August of 2017.  The one on me was so big my parents to me to the vet because they thought I had growth.  

My dad likes to tell a story about his boyhood dog, Barney. He lived in the 70s when it was common for dogs to run free all day, sometimes far from home. Barney became well known for impregnating any intact female that crossed his path, chasing cars and exceedingly good nature. One day Barney walked a half mile up the road to visit Papa's Aunt Bev. While he was there, he saw the garage door was open at Mean Mister Medas' house across the street.    Barney couldn't help but take a look inside. He found a 30-pound bag of Gravy Train. Barney, like all dogs, was worried about running out of food and thought he had located enough kibble to last the rest of the year. He dragged the bag out of the garage, then down the street to his house where he laid it at his dad's feet and announced he was now self-sufficient, and should no longer have a curfew. Unfortunately, Mean Mr. Medas witnessed the entire incident.  He walked out of his house and saw the black dog dragging th

Two days ago, my parents celebrated their 25th anniversary, a significant milestone for two people who, except for several twists of fate, would not be together.   They met at a Little league field where mommy's youngest was playing. Papa was the league president.  She noticed him before he saw her. She was still married but had been going through the motions and staying together for the kids for years.  Papa lived alone in a studio apartment with absolutely no plans for a relationship If a couple is meant to be, then life finds a way of putting them together.  My parents started as friends. Friendships between men and women either stagnate or continue to grow.  My parents thankfully graduated from friendship to a relationship, to courtship to betrothment. They were married on June 19th, 1994, when the country was amid OJ fever. The bachelor and bachelorette parties were interrupted by the high-speed chase. The athlete turned killer was so on the minds of the guests that it

We all have heroes to whom we identify.  We may share similarities with them. We understand what they went through before they succeeded. They represent us. But, inevitably, all heroes fall from grace.  We find out that they were really just like us, maybe too much.    My hero was April, the giraffe.   Like her, I had an unwanted and infamous pregnancy.  I was still at my Florida home. My mom thought I was a perfect specimen and wanted to pass my genes on to a new generation.  I was less than a year old in human years, an unwed teenage mother in dog years. And like April, I hated being pregnant. Giving birth is a terrible bother. If you haven't done it, then I suggest you don't.   After the kids were born, I ached for a week. Then my mom told me I had to feed them my milk.  Was she crazy? They nearly ripped me apart, and now they wanted to suck me dry? I don't think so.  Let them get powdered milk from Petco like the rest of the kids. By then, mom decided no more

What kind of treats for you eat? Pocket:  We eat Blue Buffalo Sizzlers:  We do occasionally enjoy other treats but because of my sensitive tummy I mostly only get these

At first, there was the wolf.  Proud, steady, loyal to his pack, great hunter and provider the wolf ruled his territory.  But inside the wolf's mind, there was conflict. Part of the wolf wanted to work with men, and live inside their shelter, another part wanted to downsize, become quick and stealthy, and a third part was content being a wolf. To bring peace to the wolf’s mind, he was split into three different species.  The part that wanted to downsize and rely on speed and cunning became the fox. The part that wanted to be domesticated and work with men became the dog. The rest remained wolves    But, unintentionally there were a fourth species created. It was born out of jealousy. It hated the dogs for allowing themselves to become domesticated. It despised the close relationship dogs had with humans. It became the opposite of the domesticated dog. Instead of kindness and understanding, it was angry and stubborn. Instead of loyal, it was devious.   From the moment of it

Six years!  I have been at Rainbow Bridge for six years. Frankly, if I knew the entire world would turn to crap after I left, I wouldn’t have felt so bad about leaving. I understand you being shocked that six years have passed since I last trod on the mortal side of the river. This is mostly because unlike so many of my brethren; I never learned how to keep quiet after I passed over. I have used my ability to communicate with the mortal world not to appease my ego but to let those left behind know their dogs are still running free and are happy.  They are in a place their parents are not allowed to visit, yet. (Maybe 25 percent to appease my ego, 50 percent to tops.) I am happy that I was able to provide for my family so they could recover from the devastating pain that was caused by my passing. They aren't better than ever, let's face it, without me, how could they be? But, they are functioning in the harsh world. River Song has been a suitable replacement. Not a recas

I am mostly a pavement walker.  When we are on our daily constitutionals, I tend to walk more on the tar than the grass.  I guess I have gotten used to it. I have been a pavement walker since birth.  When we lived in the condo, I had to walk on the street to get to the designated bathroom area, and being a dog of very little bowel or bladder; I relieved myself before we reached the grass. When we walked at the state hospital grounds, I tended to stay on the tar even though there was grass on either side of the walkway. When we walk at our current home, we can either go on the pavement or our neighbor's lawns. I choose the pavement.  My parents wish I would walk on the lawns. My habit of suddenly stopping at their feet has led to several near trip incidents. We usually walk to the back of our park. There are fewer houses, less barking dogs to startle us, and fewer people who demand we come to them so they can have the pleasure of scratching us.  Often, humans forget they wan

I'm not drunk, you're drunk.  Now give me back my collar.  I can walk home.  I don't need no one to walk me

How do you get your awesome name? Pocket:  When my parents picked me up for the first time I was small enough to fit in their pocket and I suddenly became Pocket Dog. River Song:  My parents were fans of the television show "Dr. Who" and one of the characters names was River Song.  They thought it was pretty, and when they saw how pretty I was the name fit. Foley Monster:  On the way home when I got picked up for the first time I was showing how tough I was.  Daddy said I took high-risk jumps like the professional wrestler Mick Foley.  That is how I became Foley. A couple of weeks later, when my hair grew out in all directions, I became a Monster

Enough with the endings.  I have spent weeks chronicling dogs at the culmination of their songs.  This week we celebrate dogs who first few notes are beginning to play. A month ago when Hazel went to the Bridge, she was determined to find another pug for the Idaho Pug Ranch.  The ranch was constructed to house multiple dogs but now only had one inhabitant, Mabel. Her mom told Hazel during a dream visit that she wasn't ready for another dog. It takes a village to raise a dog and sometimes it takes a pack to find a pug. Greta, who had gone to the Bridge at only two years of age, had the misfortune of being perpetually young leaving her at a disadvantage. An angel decides the body they want to wear each day.  Our wardrobes are comprised of the bodies we have worn for every year of our lives. I have a dozen perfect styles from which to choose. On some days I can be a puppy on other days the wizened dog I was when I crossed the Bridge. Greta has only two to choose from. Being fore

I made the first night inspection of my gardens after the solar lights were installed.  I like the little lights that line either side of the driveway and around the gardens. I find it charming. In the center of the flowers should be my angel, the tallest and brightest light of them all casting a warm glow over the entire yard. I was shocked to see that my angel was not part of the garden opening night display.  I am sure it was packed away in the late Autumn. Where could it be? My mommy must have been unaware that my angel was missing. If she had realized it, she would have conducted a search of every outhouse, chicken house, and dog house in a 30-square mile area.  I went into her subconscious to tell her the angel was not in the garden. There is a solid door between the conscious and the subconscious.  Some nights it is easily opened. Others it is, as it was this night, stuck.  I could only yell from the other side "My angel is not in the garden. I think she is in the s

We don't have a basement.  We have a crawl space. When my parents lived in their condo during the year 5 B.R.S (Before River Song) their basement flooded.  This upset Mommy terribly. She was happy to move into a house with no cellar — no worries about flooding, no downstairs laundry, no shelter from tornadoes. Well, two or of the three ain't bad. Cellars are a great place to store unwanted items.  You can keep half a century's worth of junk down there with room to spare.  When you have a crawl space, clean outs need to be done more frequently. My parents stuff things in the crawl space until it begins to lift the house making the floors crooked.  Then they call Fred Sanford to take half a decade of accumulated items away. Thus started the emptying of the shed and crawl space clean out.   My Dad figured with the junk man coming it would be an excellent time to trim the tree branches. He cut away the limbs from the pines that slapped my parents in the face when they w

Don't marry him, Mommy.  I checked his browser history.  He likes kitty porn!

On a scale of one to ten how crazy are you when your parents come home Pocket:  A seven, I get excited but mostly to get out of my crate. River Song: Ten.  When my parents come home it is the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.  I jump up and down, I run back and forth, I bark my head off, and then I pant for a half hour.  

Recently I saw an article on my IPaw.  It was entitled 'Why you should not get a dog." Such poppycock! I did not read this drivel.  What are the reasons not to get a dog? I say there are none. Except for the big one. Someday, sooner than expected, we will break your heart. The loss of one dog in a lifetime can affect a person for the rest of their days if they lose two, the pain doubles. Two in a year? It will be remembered as the worst time of their lives.  Two in a month? Unimaginable. Two in a week? Two in a week has its own little corner of hell.  It’s worse than breaking half the bones in your body. Two in a week is getting into a six-car pile up in your driveway that causes your house to burn into flames.   The parents of the Portuguese Water Dogs are in that hell now. In the space of a week, they lost Sebastian and Noah.  Their brother Fudge ascended to the Bridge a few months earlier. We want to rail to the Gods on their behalf; to curse the fates; try to f