What do you eat out of?
Do you remove from and take it a few steps away from the dish before you eat it?
Do you ever say no to food?
Is there food you won't eat?
Eighteen is an age all dogs aspire to reach because, true or not; it is when humans mature. JD had another reason for wanting to get that age: To vote in the Presidential election.
His mother told JD that even 18 years old couldn’t vote. But, thanks to a mistake in the city clerk's office, they didn't believe a dog could be mortal at 18 and assumed he was a teenager sent JD a mail-in ballot.
Mama Silvie didn't think JD voting in the election would be an issue. Once the clerk's office realized he was not human, they would discard the ballot. But in the election day confusion, the vote was counted, helping Silvie’scandidate wins.
Once this was accomplished, JD decided it was time to retire to the Bridge. He could leave his beloved mom in the paws of his siblings. Two days after his 18th birthday, JD lay down his mortal coil and became an angel.
You can imagine the uproar that accompanied JD when he reached Doggyspace at the Bridge. No pup had ever voted in a presidential election before. Giving the franchise to dogs could completely change the two-party system in America. Dogs never make the wrong choice.
That should have been the end of the happy story. But one of the people in the race could not accept that he had lost. He claimed massive amounts of fraud, although he was hard-pressed to find a specific instant. That was before his lawyer went to Virginia.
Somehow attorney Sweaty G heard about JD's vote. One of his clerks found it, and within an hour, Sweaty G was in front of the cameras saying that in Virginia, a dog voted. Because of that, the entire election should be overturned in favor of his client.
JD was upset. He considered his vote to be the crowning achievement of his life. Simultaneously, I was unconcerned that a judge would throw over an entire election because of one discrepancy I wanted to protect dogs' rights to vote when they reached 18. I visited the judge in her sleep, and she agreed to hold a dream court case to decide if JD's vote counts.
At the hearing, Sweaty G was incensed. He claimed that millions of dogs, mostly unlicensed, had voted, and not for his client, who has remained a dog bachelor his entire life. Again he insisted the whole election be overturned.
The judge told Sweaty G that she would not overthrow an election because one dog voted. When he said there were millions more, she asked him to prove it. He got sweatier and sweatier until he melted into a greasy little dark door spot on the floor.
With that ridiculous distraction behind us, it was possible to move on to the essential part of the hearing: If JD's vote would be allowed. I did my best lawyering, but I could tell I did not make a winning argument.
In a last-ditch effort, I put JD on the stand. I wasn’t expecting what came next. He, very eloquently and with deep passion, told the judge how much voting meant to him and how he watched his happy and proud mom when she exercised her civic duties. JD had fought off the Dementor Angels from the Bridge to finally be able to vote for a person he thought would be as devoted to bettering his family as he was.
The judge was moved, and at that very moment, she created the JD rule that allowed every animal 18 years of age or older to vote via the United States Postal Service. She said it was a just reward for a life well-lived, and who knew, maybe dogs would save the country, which is in high-risk peril right now.
We will see how this ruling affects the next election. All animals have better judgment than humans. But, there is also the horse vote, and they rarely make sense.
As for JD, besides being his mom’s constant angel, he is the patron saint for all the causes his mom believes in so strongly. Given the state of the world right now, we need all the angels we can get.
It was a sad day on the mortal side when Samoa departed for Rainbow Bridge. Samoa spent 14 years as his mom’s unofficial therapy and velcro dog. While he had siblings Barnaby and Jeremiah, who his mom loves very much, Samoa was her heart dog, and when one goes to the Bridge, so does a large and vital part of their parent’s soul.
Heart dogs usually keep secrets from their siblings. They don’t want them to know all the little ways that they make their parents feel loved and create a special bond between dog and human. If they did, the siblings could usurp their position in their mom’s hearts.
At the time Samoa went to the Bridge, he was devoted to his mom. After arriving in their dreams, he told Barnaby and Jemima his secrets to ease her suffering. One of his tricks was to stay with his mom while she was in the kitchen, not because he wanted food, although that was a fine side-effect, but because it made his mom feel loved.
“We knew that,” Jemima said. “We tried to get near her in the kitchen, but you growled at us.”
“That isn’t because I didn’t want you with us. It's because too many dogs spoil the broth.” Here is an essential rule for angels: We lie: As Somoa was indeed doing. “But, now one of you needs to take my spot supervising mommy when she cooks.”
Jemima’s paw went up, and he said that he would do it. Barnaby swore to himself. He has always had a lazy paw. That night, when their mom was cooking, she was stunned when Jemima took Samoa’s spot next to her.
Barnaby and Jemima asked Samoa, who suffered from dietary issues and received delicious, home-cooked meals if they could continue to get a taste of his dinner each day. “You don’t want mommy to go to all the expense of making meals just to give you a taste,” Samoa said. But they did. Sadly for them, they have not got a taste since Samoa went to the Bridge. “I told you that you would miss me,” Samoa told them. “And, not just because of the food.” Samoa was right.
There were a lot of tears that fell from rain clouds when Samoa reached the Bridge. His mom shared his life with so many people. When they learned of his passing, they wept for the special boy. Of course, no one cried more than his mom, and Samoa saved all her teams in a jar, which he sniffs several times a day because they smell like her.
He also spends lots of time going into his mom’s dreams. He tries to comfort her, but, like all humans, who have to make sense of the world, her subconscious will not allow her to remember his visits. Still, his mom might retain some of Samoa’s words, and that makes the little dog’s efforts worth it.
The beginning of the winter can be the worst time for a pup to pass because the winged creature factories close. He will have to wait until the new line of butterfly and bird bodies are available in the spring. When they arrive, I know Samoa will search for the perfect body to visit his mom.
Until then, Samoa will be visiting his mom in her dreams and as a ghost. He will slowly tell Jemima and Barnaby the special secrets that made him her mom’s heart dog. But not all of them. Some need to be kept between him and his mom.
I was excited to learn that Daddy is related to Peter Browne, a prominent pilgrim who arrived in the New World on the Mayflower. The news made me recall a conversation I had, here at the Bridge, with one of my ancestors, Elias Monster, who arrived with the Goodman family at Plymouth Rock in 1620.
Elias was the first Yorkie to arrive at the New World. He was at the Plantation for six years before a female Yorkie joined him. Prior to her arrival, he took a lot of cold swims in the harbor.
He also persuaded the Pilgrims to not settle in Provincetown. The Pilgrims were happy to make the lovely beach community their home. Elias explored the woods and came upon the Provincetown Indians, a bunch of proud warriors who protected and farmed their land, dressed in women’s clothing, and hung around in bars. Elias rushed back to the Pilgrims and told them they should leave immediately. He had no problem with the Indians’ lifestyles, but he figured it would clash with the uptight, Puritan ethic. They didn’t flee England to settle down with the local Nauset trans community.
Elias was next to the Captain when they found safe harbor at Plymouth. The little Yorkie was the first to tell Captain: “Jesus, look out for the rock!” Unfortunately, the drunk pilot could not swerve in time, creating the world-known Plymouth Rock that draws thousands of people to Plymouth each summer to the site to look at the rock and say: “Is that it?”
The first days at the Plantation were hard. Either coincidentally or due to fate, Elias belonged to the Daddy’s ancestor Peter Brown. They went to explore the woods. Elias saw a deer and ran off; Peter, being a good dog dad, ran after him. The man searched for Elias but could not find him and, unaware of the terrain, became spooked about lions and spent the night in a tree. Elias found him the next morning, coaxed him down, and returned to camp. The Pilgrims thought Peter was the coolest Pilgrim they had ever seen and was the first person in Massachusetts ever called “Wicked Pisser Awesome.”
The Pilgrims suffered through the first year, and, after the harvest, they decided to have a Thanksgiving celebration. The problem was that when they had a mid-summer beach party, their neighbors, the Wampanoag Indians, complained to the cops, and the Pilgrims has their fireworks confiscated. Albeit, it was just a stick, set on fire and thrown into the air, causing everyone to oooh and aah, but they had so little, and it meant so much.
Elias suggested that the only way to satisfy the Indians was to invite them. The Indians were wise to their ploy, but they had a lesser harvest because they gave the good land to the useless Pilgrims. The Indians decided it was not a sincere invitation but accepted anyway to eat the food from the ground they should never have shared and made the Hunting Ground great again.
The Indians arrived with plates of corn, peas, carrots, and rabbit meat. The Pilgrims only offering was a watery Jello mold. The Indians showed the Pilgrims how to play lacrosse. They countered with their own game: “Hit the ball with a stick!” The Indians asked what you do after hitting the ball with the stick, and Myles Standish told them they hadn't quite worked that out yet. The Indians introduced a game called “Hit the White Man in the Face with a Rock.” The Indians took great joy in the contest. The white men asked if they could play “Hit The Indian in the Face with a Rock.” The Indians told them it would motivate the Indians to play “Burn down the Pilgrim village and Rape the White Women.” The Pilgrims voted and narrowly turned down the offer to play this new game: along gender lines. Women were bored after a year of living with a Puritan on a rock. They were open for some action.
Indians departed and took all the leftovers, a real baller move; the pilgrims discussed how they could harvest that the Indians had. Elias suggested working with the Indians learning how to farm the land forming a true partnership, and sharing the new world’s abundance. The Pilgrims agreed to try that for a summer, and if that didn't work, they would just pass out the smallpox blankets and let nature take its course.
It is the story of Elias’s monster and the first Thanksgiving. You never get real history from the mortals. The Angels always will tell you what’s real.
Star was the first of Taz's Angel siblings to arrive at Hobo's Landing after the little Yorkie began her journey to the immortal world. I was preparing to swear little Taz in just like I had Star, Jake, and Jazzy. They were too many babies lost for one mother to bear.
I asked Star how her mother was coping with her latest loss. This is her fourth pup in a decade who has gone to the Bridge. "Of course she is despondent," Star said. "But Mom has undertaken the walkthrough that cold, dark, hopeless forest called grief and come out the other side. When she walks it now, she'll have another angel to guide her way."
That is the key to finding your way out of the grief woods: Look for your Angel's light. It is densely dark in the forest of grief. It can take angels weeks to muster up the power to shine a light out of the darkness. With four angels, Aunt Valerie has a brilliant light, but the more times she walks it, the darker it becomes. There is no getting ahead at the Bridge.
Taz lived 16 years with his parents. Not a bad record. for this vicinity. As he became, a senior Taz had to hide all his pain and infirmities until he finally relented, let his parents relieve him of his suffering, and send him to the Bridge. Being veterans of aiding pups across the river of life, Taz's mom and dad knew the immense grief and sadness that lays
Minutes before Taz's arrival, siblings Jake and
Jazzy appeared with a banner reading "welcome home, Taz." Jake remembered when he made his journey to the next life. He saw his siblings and friends lined up waiting for him. It made his transition much more comfortable. Behind Jake and Jessie were all of Taz's friends seeking to support the little dog with a fierce heart.
Everyone cheered when they saw Taz’s fine form climbing out of the river. Like me, whenever he gets wet, he looks like a drowned rat. With one shake, he was completely dried off and sporting his shiny, silky hair.
Taz looked across the bridge, then up the rise to see his siblings and friends waiting for him after his journey. He barked three times, spun around, and then began running for the Bridge in a manner only Yorkies do: All furious little kicks and attitude.
Taz scaled the stairs, a mighty feat for a small pawed dog. He landed in front of me and raised his paw before hearing the oath. I love a dog with angel siblings who know what to expect when he crosses over. Star, Jake, Jazzy, and Taz began running around, nipping and barking at one another and playing the puppy games that so delighted his parents.
When the siblings aren't playing, they're trying to help their parents and their remaining mortal siblings who are rebuilding the broken hearts of their parents that have been torn down and reconstructed more times than they care to bark about.
The pain of watching four angels pass away in your arms must be excruciating, but we live in a dark and troubled time full of war and illness, so you can never have enough angels, especially once as dedicated as these four.
People get very excited when one of them is having a baby. There are parties, gifts, and many congratulations.
But dogs who become pregnant don't get the same lavish attention that people do. For us, pregnancies are either the byproduct of forced breeding or an accident when someone lets a lollipop in heat outside. Frankly, dogs feel that the sacrifice we make to provide puppies to you goes widely unappreciated.
That was when I decided a change was in order. II determined to make sure pregnant lollipops had showers and not the kind that washes away the stink of shame. A lollipop that gets pregnant should receive what she wants at her ceremony and not what the puppy needs since the litter is probably going to be around for three months at the most.
Before we became house dogs, we were hurt and confused when they took our babies away from us when they were still little puppies. Then we began to live our lives snuggled on humans' laps inside a safe, dry home, and we saw the way kids treated their parents when they got older and realized that the first three months are the best and everything is downhill from there and better to avoid.
Although we don't carry our litter as long as humans, the pains that pregnancy triggers: body changes bloating, and a squished bladder are the same. In some ways, humans have it more accessible. They have a child then are given a choice if they want to bottle or to breastfeed. We are not given any options. The little dickens forces us to roll over, and then they suck on our tiny knobs. Women complain that one baby is sucking the life out of them. Here's a thought lady, try eight. You'll feel like a lemon in a bar after someone orders a dozen limoncello, and the bartender is trying to extract the last bit of juice from his lone lemon.
To try my new lollipop pregnancy program enlisted the aid of my friend Tulip, recently impregnated by her short time stud mate Frankie. I used the power of dreams to access Tulip’s mom's sub-conscious and, throughout several nights, convinced her to throw Tulip a puppy shower.
Tulip's mother invited all the dogs she knew from the park. The other parents thought she was crazy, but when they remembered all the things parents of a new litter needed, they happily obliged.
The party was a success. I would have liked Tulip to get more personal gifts, but she seemed happy with the gifts for her babies and mom. Frankie was hoping this would be over soon so he could get laid.
Then it was time for my pierce de resistance. I told Tulip’s mom to line up rockets by the tree line near the barn. I admired humans’ gender reveal celebrations, and I wanted to give Tulip the same thrill.
It was Tulip’s dad’s duty to light the first rocket. It went high into the sky and let out a pink plume. Then another rocket went off and trailed blue smoke. There would be a boy and a girl. Two more were shot in the air, another boy and girl, and the air was filled with blue and pink vapor. Then three more, and the fire from the rockets ignited the trees, spread to the barn, where the prize-winning heifers were kept. The cows were saved, but part of the barn was destroyed. Setting off eight rockets on the parched ground near trees and an old barn could possibly be seen as a bad idea.
Now, because of this small fire, which was not covered by insurance, Tulip’s parents were forced to sell their cattle, and gender reveals parties for dogs have been banned.
I knew I should have done cupcakes. But I can’t resist a good explosion.
All dogs have incredibly close relationships with their parents, but therapy dogs, and their people, are entwined in ways that we traditional pups admire and are a little jealous over. Therapy dogs get to go everywhere with their parents and are often the first soul humans turn to during dark times.
They have earned this role. These pups train intensely and have to always be on their best behavior while quelling the instincts that rule us and bring trouble. I don’t know if I could do it. While I would want to be with my mom all the time, I would miss being a free spirit who can bark at people, go to them with tail wagging, and steal attention. Of course, the closer the relationship, and the love that is sparked by it, means more pain when one of the pair moves to the Bridge.
Teardrops, in the form of rain, fall at the Bridge when a new angel gets their detachable wings. When it is a therapy dog who crosses, those drops become a monsoon that can continue for days.
This weekend when the vast clouds rolled in, and tears began to fall, we knew a vital therapy dog was arriving. I checked the incoming dogs’ list and felt my heartbreak: Mickey would soon be joining us. On the mortal side, he was the beloved therapy dog sharing his life with our dear friend Jodi Kohen-Pike.
He was the constant in Jodi’s life, always with her and right at her side when she needed help both physically and emotionally. All the time, Jodi and Mickey were together, they were never tired of one another’s company. If anything, it made them want to be together more and made their parting extremely painful.
The Dementor angels who summon stubborn dogs to the Bridge had tried to force Mickey to leave his mom’s side, finally struck him down with seizures, one at home, and another at the vet. It was clear to Jodi that Mickey had given her every ounce of his devotion, and now was the time to relieve him of his duties, at least in corporal form. He would forever be her devoted angel the moment she crossed the river. Therapy dogs are for life.
As soon as Mickey crossed the Bridge, he was determined to forgo the greetings with friends, Jodi’s angels who preceded him, and even me tasked with giving him the angel oath. When we insisted that Mickey had to follow the rules, at least briefly, his training kicked in, and he stood respectfully as I officially swore him in as an angel.
There is a difference between being a mortal therapy dog and an immortal one, and Mickey was determined to his job correctly, so I helped him find an angel therapy training course. The lessons usually take weeks. A determined Mickey passed all the courses on a weekend and got an A.
Sadly, unless the moon is aligned correctly with the stars and the light is just right, Jodi will not see that Mickey is still protecting her. If she notices that she barely avoided misfortune or something good breaks her way, hopefully, she will understand that it is the excellent work of the Mickey Protection Program.
There is no substitute for being with the one you love, but if you can still keep them safe, even without them realizing, then you can genuinely call yourself a devoted angel.
I can imagine someday when Jodi and is reunited with her beloved dog, that the Mickey Protection Program becomes something he can teach the angel to better the lives of parents everywhere. Rainbow Bridge and mortal parents will be better off for it.
I hate to see old friendships ended by politics. It is we dogs who lose friends thanks to silly misunderstandings and assumptions.
On Doggyspace, we dog warned our adults that they would not be happy with what they found when they saw the humans behind the pup on the site.
One of the dogs I lost contact with was Ruby Rose. I remember the beautiful Shepherd living life to the fullest with her mom. When we were on Doggyspace, I loved learning about her adventures and the special relationship she had with her. Ruby even followed me to the Tanner Brigade ten years ago, but then we lost touch.
I could picture her still going for walks and playing in the yard under the watchful eye of her loving mom. I am not sure how Ruby ended up in my district, but I was delighted to see her even under the harshest circumstances. Ruby had lived well into her senior years. Like all older dogs, she tried to hide her discomfort when she began to slow down and feel poorly. Obviously, the pain of illness and old age was too much for this beautiful dog could stand, and the decision was made to help her to the bridge.
Ruby's name was on the list of new arrivals for District 4. I decided we needed to give her a big DS welcome. I had left Tommy Tunes in charge of all things DoggySpace.
Tommy was the perfect dog for the job. He is organized and has a big heart. I don't think anyone loved doggy space more than Tommy.
I told him Ruby was on her way, and he contacted all her old doggy space friends to greet her at Hobo's Landing, where I would administer the Rainbow Bridge Oath.
Ruby recognized her friends the second she crossed the, and she began running like a puppy to greet those she had lost. Ruby told everyone how grateful she was that no one had forgotten her. Tommy gave her a big painting of her and her mom to hang over the bed, where she would sleep awaiting the day her mom joined her.
Of course, she felt great sorrow because she left her mom, but Ruby knew her mom would be satisfied that she is with so many old friends.
The parents who made up Doggyspace may be arming themselves in their own camps, but the dogs will continue to play and love one another at the Bridge, the way it should be.
Bless our ignorance. It makes us much happier.
Being the dog who belongs to a member of the military can be challenging. One of the biggest problems is that the parents are gone for long periods. We all worry about our parents when they are away, but when they are out of the country for months, with an entire army trying to kill them, it can be hell for dogs. When their parents return, their dogs joyfully dance as they flush all the worries from their system.
But, sadly, some of the parents don’t come home. We dogs can tell when this catastrophe occurred by the way the other family members react. Dogs cannot afford to mourn because they have to take care of the other family members. They have to pick their moments to do so and pay tribute to the fallen.
Hawkeye was devoted entirely to his father, John, who was a NAVY seal. John was gone for months, but when he came home, it was just Hawkeye and him. They would go for long walks together, play ball, take car rides, and sleep in the same bed. Hawkeye always hated when John left and waited by the window for him to return.
He lived with John’s parents, who took excellent care of him, but not with the devotion that John placed upon him. One day a terrible phone call came. An instinct placed in us before birth was triggered, and Hawkeye knew a horrific event that had occurred. His heart shattered into a million pieces, but he could not mourn yet; he had to take care of John’s parents because that is what he would have wanted.
Hawkeye was an extraordinarily well-behaved dog, and his parents thought it would only be right if he went to John’s service. Hawkeye sat with his dad’s parents until the coffin was brought into the church. Solemnly, Hawkeye stood, walked to the casket, and laid down next to it, protecting John. Hawkeye laid with the body throughout the hour-long service. When it concluded, Hawkeye stood and followed the coffin out of the church. Once the coffin was slipped into the back of the hearse, Hawkeye jumped in the vehicle. The generous driver, recognizing love and devotion, allowed Hawkeye to ride to the church with his dad.
When the hearse reached the cemetery, Hawkeye waited for the coffin to be removed from the hearse before he climbed out. He walked behind the pallbearers to the gravesite and lay down next to the coffin. He stayed there for the entire thirty-minute service and beyond. Hawkeye had always come when he was called, but after the ceremony had concluded, and John’s parents summoned him, he refused, laying by the grave, with his head down. There was a seldom-used leash in the vehicle. John’s father hooked the leash on to Hawkeye’s collar. It took a great deal of pulling and persuading Hawkeye to abandon his vigil.
Hawkeye lived the rest of his days with John’s parents, who he adopted as his own. He was a content dog, but every day he missed his dad. When he fell ill, he did not let his parents’ know until the disease was too far gone. Before Hawkeye went to the Bridge, he looked at his parents with loving eyes, thanked them, and then made his long-awaited final journey. I saw Hawkeye cross the Bridge, then climb the stairs, faster than he had ever moved before. He knew who was waiting for him at the top of the Bridge.
Usually, it is a dog waiting for a human. That is the way it is meant to be. Human angels greeting their newly immortal dogs is a reunion filled with joy and no sorrow. I know you have seen videos of soldiers reuniting with their dogs on the mortal side. It is more moving at the Bridge because the reunion is for eternity, and the dog and human will never be separated. When John saw Hawkeye crossing the Bridge,, he ran down the stairs. Hawkeye stopped, made sure it was his dad, then ran across the green grass, jumped into John’s arms, knocked him down, and covered him with 1,000 kissed.
Every day John and Hawkeye walk the mountain paths together, play ball, and sleep under the stars. If we encounter them, they are very polite, but eventually move on, as they try to make up for their lost time. They are two hearts, still beating as one. They will be that way forever. It is a beautiful thing.
One of the Rainbow Bridge engineers stopped by my house today with a warning. Because of the recent resume in coronavirus deaths, the Bridge would be expanding again. I wasn't sure why I was made privy to this confidential information until he told me the expanded area would be over southern Massachusetts, where my parents live in a cheaply built house that sits on concrete blocks.
When Rainbow Bridge expands, it sends off a shock wave through the mortal side, which often manifests as earthquakes. My soft, elite liberal East coast friends could not handle such a calamity. They shelter in place when the wind blows too strongly. I can only imagine Massachusetts residents’ reactions. They are not too far removed from putting women on for being witches when they got a weekend of rain. They may take this as they're due and owing. Massachusetts residents believe if anything good happens, it is immediately followed by something bad to balance the scales. On Saturday, my parents and their neighbors rejoiced when they learned a Democrat had been elected president. On Sunday, they got an earthquake. They agreed it was a small price to pay for the White House.
As I was flying to my house, I saw the land ripple beneath me, a sure sign of an earthquake. When I got over my house I was relieved to see it still standing. I had to make sure my family was all right. I flew through the bedroom window. I love to start there because I sit on the big fluffy bed and think beautiful thoughts. The Dad was getting dressed for work with all the enthusiasm of a sloth preparing for a tax audit. He did not look like someone who had survived an earthquake. I saw him check his phone and say to himself, "oh, that's what it was I thought it was a large truck going by."
I flew above his head to see that he just received an Alert telling him it was an earthquake. That is when I remembered how we Angels rank earthquakes. If you live on the east coast and need to get a text to determine if you had an earthquake, you really didn't have an earthquake.
On the West coast, it takes a bit of jackhammering to expand Rainbow Bridge, causing more damage. It would help if you never had an alert to know you have had an earthquake in California. You know that when the freeway overpass collapses on your car.
Rainbow Bridge is especially treacherous in the southern hemisphere. Angels hack away at the land to get supplies for the expansion like they're working for Mr. Peabody and fracking a Kentucky mountain. And don’t get me started on middle eastern earthquakes. The angels pick the land up and drop it, then use whatever is left to expand.
I still felt the need to check on my family. I found Pocket standing on a recliner and trembling. I asked her if the earthquake had scared her. "What earthquake? A piece of dust landed on the table near me. I thought I was under attack." Sweet Pocket never needs a catastrophe to make her panic.
River asked, loudly if she was still beautiful. I assured her she was. "My looks are my livelihood' she exclaimed. Then she wanted to know if the earthquake had been some of her conservative friends protesting the election. River comes from Florida and is a Republican but a Jeb Bush one; she's not crazy.
Finally, I checked on you and found you lining up your cannabis chocolate drops for the week. I'm glad you know that no matter where you are or what type of earthquake you have, a cannabis chocolate drop is the best remedy.
Content that my family was safe, I flew home, climbed into bed, and took a long nap. I hope there are no more earthquake interactions.
Oscar, the bulldog, lived an idyllic life. It was just him and his two parents in their Michigan home. His parents treated him like a child, and he reveled in the attention.
He was the happiest and most content dog in the entire Upper peninsula.
His parents had no reason to add another soul to the pack. But, often, life had other plans. Miles from Oscar’s house, a cat, was abandoned by uncaring parents. She prayed to the cat angels to help her find a good home. They searched the surrounding area and determined that the best possible place would be at Oscar’s house. They knew his parents wouldn’t hesitate to help an animal in need.
They instructed the cat on how to find Oscar’s house. It took her a day to get there. He was cold and hungry. The angels showed him how to act pitifully by shivering and meowing mournfully. He played the part of tired, hungry, and scared cat to perfection. That was because he was one.
Oscar was the first in the house to see the cat, and he let his instincts be his guide. He barked at her with all his ferocious might. The cat trembled on the other side of the glass door. Oscar’s mom came downstairs to see what the commotion was and saw her big dog scaring the lost little kitty.
She told Oscar to be quiet and leave the poor cat alone. This stunned the dog. His mom had never talked to him in such a manner. He was shocked when she opened the door, reached down, picked up the kitty, and let it into Oscar’s house. The kitty snuggled up on his mom’s chest. She stroked it and then sat on Oscar’s couch with it on her chest. When Oscar tried to jump up and join them, his mom told him to get down. She had never done that before. The interloper was taking over Oscar’s house, and he could not have that. But, no matter what he did, his mom told him to stop until she finally put him in a bedroom. Oscar whimpered behind the door. The wet cat was taking his place in the family.
He heard his parents discussing keeping the cat. He whined loudly, hoping his opinion counted while fearing it did not. When he was finally let out of the room, the cat now had a name, Kayak, which meant he was now part of the pack and was sitting with him, mom. His parents introduced him to Kayak and encouraged him to come near her. Wanting to please his mom Oscar approached the cat gently. He sat next to his mom, then the cat reached up and scratched Oscar’s nose. Oscar yelped and ran away. His parents laughed. He doubted they would do the same if he had hurt the cat. This sucked.
Since that day, Oscar has avoided the cat. He won’t go into a room where Kayak is. This bothered Oscar’s parents much, and they prayed to the angels that Oscar would accept the cat and vice versa. We answered that prayer and pledged to help Oscar get over his catophobia.
We began training Oscar with stuffed cats. We asked him to lie down next to the faux kitty and fall asleep. It took three days for this small step. Then we had kind cat angels approach to play with him, and slowly he was cured of his cat fear. But, there was still Kayak, who scared him a lot.
We all gathered around Oscar as he approached Kayak. Each time he got a step closer before running off. Finally, yesterday, Oscar worked up enough nerve to get within a paw’s length of Kayak again. The cat angels had been working with Kayak, convincing her to be kinder to Oscar, or she could find herself in a shelter. The dog and cat looked at each other warily. Then Kayak moved slightly on the couch, inviting Oscar to lay next to her. Oscar jumped up and snuggled close to her. The angels rejoiced at a job well done, and their mom was thrilled to see them together, even taking a photo and placing it on the Internet.
I noticed Oscar’s and Kayak’s eyes. They betrayed their true feelings; they loathed one another. But they know they are going to have to get along for the family to survive. Once again, pets lead the way
I have thoroughly investigated the strange activity at your home and determined that the woman who lives across the street and does nothing but smoke cigarettes and stares at your house is indeed a witch. She is responsible for your everyday household items that seemed to vanish into thin air only to reappear in a place you searched thoroughly hours before. She is also the one who has stopped appliances from working like the washing machine that wouldn't fill with water, and then as soon as an expensive repairman came out, it suddenly began to work.
Last week the witch performed her most infamous trick when she made the hot water pipe in the front bedroom closet leak and flooded the first floor. If she wanted to inflict maximum damage, she made a critical timing error. Everyone knows that you and Daddy are night owls. She could have done more harm by breaking it at 7:00 in the morning than at 2:00 at night. You’d think she would know that after watching your house 24 hours a day.
When then pipe broke, my witch alarm sounded, and I immediately went to your house as a ghost. I got there just as you, Daddy, and River went to check on the flood. It was good that you took River with you since she views the mattress as a wrestling ring and Pocket as her perpetual opponent always prepared to submit.
Pocket stood at the end of the bed, worried about drowning. Inside her body, everything turned to water. I told her it would be fine even though I knew it was all going to hell, but deceiving the simple-minded when you know everything is going to hell is what passes for leadership now. I told Pocket to stay in bedbecause whenever her feet touch anything wet, she pees, just like she does the other if she smells anything brown.
I flew out to the front bedroom where the water was squirting and watched Daddy turn the handle back and forth, bewildered by the off position. Finally, he stopped the water, showing a fantastic amount of stream control for someone his age.
River was on the floor, running back and forth like Jack and Rose trying to get off the Titanic because she thought the house was turning into one giant bath. Of course, you were the perfect example of grace under pressure, if Grace swore and behaved like an impatient sailor.
Sadly, you live in a house that was constructed like a villains’ hideout in Batman during the 1960s: Crooked and going downhill. This meant the water was continually flowing away from you. You are wicked with a mop, having made the Olympic cleaning team in ‘68, ‘72, and ‘76 until you turned professional in 1977. You got the house clean in record time. I am sorry you didn’t sleep well after that. I know nothing gets you stirred up like a good mopping. I left you to track down who placed the curse on you, and put the witch outside your house.
Who had the means, and the motive to do this? It had to be someone with a grudge, and the ability to use supernatural forces. Then it dawned on me: The witch was being controlled by an angel living on the dog part of the Bridge.
It was the beagle who lived across the street from you and did not like the way River did nothing but stare at him, so he convinced his mom in a dream visit to sell her house to a witch who would do nothing but stare at you.
I have asked the beagle to drop his vendetta, and he agreed, although he does not know if the witch will cease and desist. Witches are known to be independent. I will use all my powers to get the her to stop, but I think she has built up her own animosity to your family, not caring for River’s staring either. With vengeful beagles, determined witches, and River’s stare it is going to be a long winter.
Love Foley Monster
As you know, dogs were put on earth to help humans, and in some cases, even save them, but sometimes dogs, through twists of fate end up at the wrong house. The Big Angels tasked a dog named Reilly with protecting a young boy’s life. But, a man with no children adopted him. At first, Reilly figured another dog would take on the role of being the boy’s savior, but he had to know for sure.
There is never a good reason for a dog to run away from home, but that is precisely what Reilly did. He only had a vague sense of what the boy who he tasked with helping smelled like. Determined, Reilly snuck out of the house; and he began to sniff the millions of scents embedded on the ground. After a few cases of mistaken sniffs, Reilly picked up the right trail and found the house where the boy lives.
Unfortunately, there was no one home. Reilly decided to lie down in front of the house and wait. It was growing, cold, and dark. A female neighbor saw Reilly, put a leash around his neck, and led him into her home. It was an obstacle for Reilly, but he was next door to where he wanted to be and was sure when the time was right, he would go across the lawn and warn the boy.
. The woman who found him needed to go to work. He did not need to take such drastic measures. She went to the house where the boy lived and asked if the family would take care of Reilly until his family found him. The kids had been bugging their mom to get a dog, and she saw this opportunity to test if the kids could manage a pup.
Reilly found the boy who needed saving and made sure he closely bonded with him. The four other children loved Reilly and they made sure that the dog wanted nothing to prove they could take care of a pup. They passed all their tests swimmingly.
He was getting a lot of love, and where we wanted to be, his father was still looking for him. Reilly sent one of the strangest prayer requests from a lost dog we had ever received: He prayed that he stays lost for a little longer. The children’s mother had put Reilly’s picture on Facebook and placed flyers with his face on it around town. We angels had to steer Reilly’s dad away from these postings until he completed his task.
One night the mom came home from work and found Reilly waiting for her and frantically running from the boy’s room to the front door. The mother went to the boy’s room and found him having a seizure. She called an ambulance; they arrived and were able to treat the boy successfully. His mom would not have checked on the boy if not for Reilly. The dog had fulfilled his destiny.
Now we could enable his dad to find him, which we immediately did. He called the house, and the mother answered. When she learned that he was coming to pick up Reilly, she told her heartbroken children that the dog they had come to love had to go back to his owner. The dad had come to know Reilly very well. When he arrived at the house, Reilly jumped on him and gave kisses but then retreated to the family. Reilly gave him one look that said it all: “Thank you for being my dad. You were terrific, and I love you very much, but this is my family now.”
The man loved the dog very much, which is why he knew he had to give him up. He had provided Reilly a home, but now he had a family. He told the mother and her children that he was sure Reilly would be happier with the family. That is what you should be most concerned about when you love someone: Their well being. He told the delighted family that Reilly belonged with them, then took a moment to say goodbye to the special pup. When he looked in Reilly’s eyes, he saw all the thanks he would ever need.
We angels rewarded the father with a new rescue who has delighted him and proven to be a perfect companion. The dad still thinks of Reilly, but he believes it all worked out for the best and knows he is in a great home. Reilly and the family are constantly aware that their happiness is because of his dad’s devotion and sacrifice.
Stories like this make me believe that the world may be a good place, even amongst all the bad.