The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

  The Spotify angels have asked me to compile a playlist for dogs.  I had to search through millions of songs to find the right ones. Here are the ones I chose. “What a Barkable World” by Louis Barkstrong.  It begins, “I see bowls full of food / and water too / All filled up high / For me and you/ And I think to myself/ What a Barkable world.” “Imagine” by Beatle Bug:  All dogs instantly become calm, hearing the words: “Imagine there are no squirrels.  It isn’t hard to do. No tree rats scurrying across the lawn. And no chipmunks too.  “Hey Bone” by the Beagles:  When the Beagles began singing:  “Hey bone, I love to chew. You take a good bite and make it better.  The minute I get you into my mouth. My day starts to get better.” I can't help tapping my paw. “Yesterday,” another Beagles song also made the list:  “Yesterday, all my troubles were so far away. Because my Mama doesn’t work Sundays.  Now I believe in yesterday.” “Blowin’ in the Wind” by Dog Dylan:  The song mak

There has long been a myth in the dog world:  Someday, a pup would be born, green of color, and his birth would signal the age of man had ended and the time of the dogs had begun. Many scoffed at the prophecy.  We dogs were put on Earth to support humans, not to rule over them. But, others have seen changes in the world, forecasting the rise of the Green Pup. Recently some of us have been allowed to go inside the mall, the supermarket and even ride in the human part of airplanes.  Many say this is the first sign that dogs will ascend to power, and they began awaiting the birth of the Green Puppy. I remained a skeptic.   But then word spread through the land that the Green Puppy had been born in North Carolina, the Bethlehem of the Western world.  We knew that three wise dogs were needed to travel to the Holy Land and bear witness to the Green Messiah’s birth.   River and I asked our friend Toby to join us.  We brought with us gifts for the newborn: Gold, frankincense, and bone

Rudolph always hogs the bed

We all fart but not all farts are alike.  How are our farts?  Loud, smelly, frequent?  Let us know.

I love to read my friends' blogs, but sometimes they end with little warning. Writing blogs requires a lot of different things, but the biggest one is time. For every day, a human lives the following day is a sliver shorter. People don't notice it at first, but then they remark how it seems that time has flown by. There is never enough of it. Blog time becomes lost time, so the parent has no choice but to abandon it for more pressing concerns. Sometimes I lose touch with my blogging friends. Then one day, I will be swearing in angels at the Bridge, and I will see a blogger pup I had not barked with for a long time. When I do, I experience the four stages of Angel grief: 1 - shock. 2 - denial. 3. - acceptance. 4 - butt-sniffing. I was stunned when I saw Amber from the Florida Da Weennie dogs crossing the Bridge. In recent months she had seldom posted. I had read that she had gone through a medical ordeal but knew nothing else. Apparently, that tail had an unhappy en

Today is my day to review prayer requests. Here is one I got this week. “My husband and I have been together for 20 years. I grew up with a menagerie of pets, and he didn’t have any. (His mother hates animals.) Today we have two cats, though I desperately want a dog. We both work full time, but I permanently work from home, so I would provide 100 percent of the care (as I do for the cats—I don’t mind; I’m the animal caretaker). He’s ambivalent about the cats, but he says we can absolutely not get a dog. He says they are too messy, smelly, and expensive, and he gets angry when I bring it up. But really … those are not good reasons to me not to adopt a dog! We have a huge property, and both work in the tech industry, where we make good salaries. I’ve wanted a dog for 20 years and have never been able to get one, but Hubby spends freely on his incredibly expensive hobby. Is my marriage doomed? Is there any way to convince him to “let” me get a dog? (By the way, I know pets are genera

My parents think Pocket and I are both too nervous. I don’t believe that is true. The only time I am genuinely anxious is when my parents leave the house. I don’t know where they are going or what they are doing, but I do know they are two homebodies vastly unprepared for the wicked world they have to travel through. They are so naive they could be taken in by a stranger with candy, brought to an undisclosed location, and kept away from us for weeks, which means I would miss 857 meals. Pocket gets nervous too, but only during the time between sunrises.  A surefire way to stop a dog’s separation anxiety is for our parents never to leave the house, but humans never choose the easy option.  They search for ways to combat our stress, which includes experimenting with ridiculous products that wouldn’t make it past the first round of Angel Tank.  My parents, because I am such an influential blogger, are sometimes given products to rate. The good news is that both my parents are illiterat

Oh no!  I just had a pig too moment.

What is the most useless thing your parents have bought for you and wasted their money? Pocket:  Mommy spent money on Thunder Shirts for both of us.  She put it one during a Thunderstorm.  It didn't help, but after that whenever we saw the shirt we would shake thinking a storm was coming.

I always thought of my friend Gizmo as a brother from another mother. He is as beloved as I am; he adores his humans as much as I do, he is a big ferocious big dog in a tiny dog's body just like me, and he even has a pest for a little sister named Pocket.  Despite all those similarities, I never thought that he would go to the Bridge the way I did.  I spent the last 48 hours of my mortal existence in an oxygen tent because of a rapidly growing tumor in my lungs. I was full of spunk inside the oxygen tent, but once removed, I couldn't draw a breath.  There's no getting past not being able to breathe when the dementors are summoning you to the Bridge.  The same calamity befell my friend Gizmo. He did not have a tumor, but congestive heart failure proved to be his undoing.  Gizmo had borrowed a lot of heartbeats to stay with his family, but his ticker became so damaged during that time it could not support his active lifestyle.  I was waiting for Gizmo when he crossed

I have ripped the cover of the story of the century of the week.  I know why Prince Harry and Megan Markle have left England for the great woods of Canada.  It was not their decision. Their pets wanted to go. In fact, they are already on Vancouver Island waiting for their parents to finish up their royal business and join them.    The Prince and Duchess of Sussex have two dogs, one, a beagle named Max, and an intact pitbull called  Grandmaster Pimp Larry. The pittie angered the queen by turning her beloved dogs into cheap hos. Larry told her you could take the Pimp from the street, but you can’t take the street from the pimp.    Even for dogs, there is a right and a wrong way to interact with the Queen. When Max arrived at the castle, he quickly took to the rules:  1) No getting on the Queen’s lap, 2) no jumping on the Queen, 3) no bowel movements anywhere near the Queen. Every time Grandmaster Pimp Larry saw the Queen, he put his head right up her dress, and she said, “Ohhh, tha

I, like all dogs, hate to be left alone.   I am the kind of pup who needs to be in a crate when my parents are gone. In the past, they have allowed me to be loose, and when they got home, they found me in a corner trembling while everything inside of me turned to water.   For the first part of my life, I lived with Foley.  When my parents went out, she laid on top of a blanket and chilled.  Now I live with River. She does the opposite. She paces, pants, climbs on the furniture, sits on the kitchen table to look out the window, and has, on occasion, stranded herself on the vanity because she insisted on seeing out the bathroom window and couldn't get down The only thing worse was her in a crate. She was so determined to get out she would get stuck in the door.  I would rather have Foley relaxing on a blanket then River’s anxiously tramping around the house.     I have never sought the limelight the way Foley did.  She decided to be a social network dog. I was happy to be an an

Oh, sure, yell at us but when you do it with Mommy it's beautiful 

Have your parents ever witnessed a litter of dogs, cats, or something else being born?  Our answer is no.  If your parents did what was that like?

When I first delved into the world of social media, one of the most beloved and influential dogs I met was Morgan the Miracle Maltese. Morgan was already a teenager when I first barked at him. He understood everything about being a dog and navigating the world of social media. Morgan also had a long list of ailments. He always seemed to be on the cusp of going to the Bridge. But he became extremely adept at acquiring new heartbeats and keeping one step ahead of the reaper.  This allowed him to stay with his beloved Mama Jane until he finally gave up the fight and became a very influential Angel. When Morgan left his mom, he knew he was creating a crater where her heart had been.  He needed the perfect dog to become Mama Jane's new rock, to help her navigate the road of grief, and walk with her through this scary and continually deteriorating world.  When he interviewed Jackson, he knew he had his boy.  Morgan was sure Jackson's beautiful face, the kindness that emanated fr

There are particular creatures who are impossible for humans to detect and discreetly wreak havoc on their lives.   Some carry disease; others bring financial distress and a few spread sorrow. The worst of them take what you love, and his name is Mr. Galumpus.   Collectively they are known as the Troubles.  In the days before movies, television, computers, and phones, when the eyes' ability to see what is genuinely there had yet been dulled by screen time, the faint outlines of these creatures could be detected walking next to or following their victims.  Those witnessing these bearers of ill will stalking their prey would say, "there is poor Liam. He is with Trouble." As the eyes began to be burned by screens, people changed "with Trouble" to "in trouble." Trouble stopped being a proper noun. That is when the real trouble began. You can't get yourself out of Trouble. Trouble stays with you until either it's mission is accomplished, or it

I have been told I need to make a New Year’s Resolution.  I don’t know why it is necessary. I am perfect in every way.  What is there to be resolute about?  Arguably, I improved myself last year by losing weight.  I did not resolve to do it, but, in my attempts to impress humans, I will claim any slight self-improvement I achieve is because of a resolution I made.  It makes me look like I can accomplish my goals and spruces up a resume.  Pocket makes a New Year’s resolution every year.  I understand why she does it. She has a lot of room for improvement.  Pocket has been making them for thirteen years, six with me, and she hasn’t gotten any better.  This year she resolves to not bark at everything she sees. I don’t know why. I do the same thing, but I think it is an attribute.  I could ignore the whole resolutions thing, but everyone in my family is making them, from my mom resolving not to have any medical procedures to my Dad resolving not to have to take care of mommy after h

Hey!  That fish are my hot dog!

This might take some thought.  If there was a movie of a TV show about you what would it be called? Pocket:  Smighties:  Small and Mighty Friends River:  The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

 There is no worse time to lose a dog than just before Christmas, but that was the fate facing my friend Tiger's mama Vicki when Tiger was diagnosed with cancer at the beginning of December.  The doctors said he would be at the Bridge before the holiday.  I have been blessed to know Tiger most of his life.  He came to his family in the fall of 2011 as a foster dog, but his sweet disposition and snuggling ability made him a foster failure.  He joined Sierra and Nase (the blob) as Mama Vicki’s babies. When Sierra went to the Bridge, Tiger helped his mom walk the road of grief. Mama Vicki has not traveled the road since, but when she received Tiger’s diagnosis, she knew she had to pull on her hiking boots.  She had a sad journey ahead.   For Tiger, the end began with a limp.  He came in from going potty with a hunched back, wearing a pained expression, and favoring a leg.  His condition presented itself like a pulled muscle, but when he didn’t respond to treatments, dread began

2019 was the beginning of a dog revolution.  Pups were hired to work at hospitals, courtrooms, police stations, libraries, college campuses, airports, anywhere that people were under stress or needed comforting. Next year I am happy to lead the movement to bring dogs to another needy part of the populace:  Assholes.  Did you know that 68% of American families live with an asshole?  The number of people affected by assholes jumps to a hundred percent when we include people who watch the news.  The asshole problem in the United States has never been greater, and it keeps growing. I am not referring to the complaining, bitchy type of assholes but full-on red-faced, hate-spewing men's assholes. At the Foley Monster Dog Training School for assholes, we train dogs for two different needs.  One for the asshole, and the other for people who are affected by assholes. Humans usually know which dog they need, but if they don't, it is because they are an asshole, and they will get

 When  Mommy went out with her daughter on Monday, leaving Daddy home alone with us, the Christmas decorations were still up.  She asked Daddy not to touch them until she got home. Technically, he obeyed. But, by the time Mommy got back, all the decorations were gone:  Maybe for good. Five minutes after Mommy left, there was a knock on the door.  A green man with curly feet and slight facial hair stood on the other side.  He introduced himself as T. Grinch, Christmas consultant. He told Daddy he was offering a free service to people in the neighborhood.  He would inspect all the Christmas decorations and give us a report on how to improve them for next year.   River and I didn’t trust this guy, and we growled.  Daddy allowed the man into our house and threatened to crate us if we were not quiet.  Poor Daddy, he is an excellent judge of dogs but not of people.   The man produced a red sack.  “When I was outside, I saw the two star-showers you have shining on the house and trees.