The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

I was upset when  I heard that Simone Biles withdrew from the Olympics because of emotional issues that caused her to twist her body midflight, costing her points, possibly leading to injury, and then she suffered the ignorant comments from fat white men who never get off their couch while their stubby thumbs dance over the I-Phone screens creating malicious posts on Twitter, a place where those who can’t do, criticize.     The year was 2012, and it was the dog Olympics.  I was eleven years old, past my prime, and could no longer do the physical events.  But, that was not my forte.  In 2004 and 2008, I took home the gold medal in the 1,000 meter cute and was favored in 2012.      The event was not challenging.  You slowly walked 1,000 meters while looking adorable.  I had a distinct advantage that my birth family had not docked my tail.  It rose over my back like a furry flower, the tip drawing attention to my face.  That,

  I’d do anything, for you dear, anything, except maybe get between you and a rattlesnake.  I don’t want to mess with one of them.   To begin with, I was very fortunate to have you as a mother.  You never lived anywhere that had rattlesnakes.  I appreciated that.  Snakes are disgusting.  I don’t trust anything that moves but doesn’t have feet.  It is contradictory to all the laws of nature. Plus, they have the rudest way of protecting themselves:  They bite.  I know dogs do too, but only as a last resort.  Snakes do it out of boredom.  And our bites might cause you to get some stitches, but snakes will kill you.   But Redd, a 7-year-old Labrador retriever, let none of those thoughts bother him when his human found a rattlesnake that was ready to bite.     I wish I could tell you that the human who Redd saved was doing something foolish.  He is 18 years old, and his name is Timmy Lockhart.  Instead of hiking barefoot on an unmarked trail, he was doing his laundry.  Of

 

  Don't tell Henry, but he's not the real father

Give us an example of how smart you are  

  I had it. There were far too many Bridge crossings in July. It was time for a stupid and futile gesture, and I was just the Angel to do it.  I ordered my minions to build a door on our side of the Bridge. Without a way to access the immortal side, no soul could pass. I was looking at my creation when I heard a human clearing her throat behind me.  I turned to see Miss Laura looking at me sternly. “What is that!?” She asked like a cross mother who discovered her child had scrawled on the wall.  I explained how I was blocking the entrance so pups could not pass over. “You are just making any dog who leaves the mortal world walk in limbo,” she explained. “It won’t stop them passing.” I explained how limbo would become full, creating a pack of undead dogs who would spill over to the mortal side, creating havoc. That would inspire humans to find a way to extend dogs’ lives, thereby lessening the amount crossing over. It was i

  Bullett and Bolt were two happy chocolate labs living an idyllic life with their childless parents, who treated them like they were kids.  Sadly, the lions came for them both, inflicting the two dogs with cancer and snatching them from their beloved parents.    Bullett and Bolt knew that their parents could not exist without a dog, and they immediately began searching for a replacement, but none of the applicants were suitable for their parents’ needs.   Also, they were so broken-hearted; anytime the angels tried to broach the subject in their parents’ dreams, their subconscious blocked the word dog, making their efforts futile. Instead of being discouraged, Bullett and Bolt saw it as an opportunity to find the perfect pup.  They slowly and methodically interviewed pups with no luck.  They did not know the right candidate was not yet in the shelter. Meanwhile, Floyd, a two-and-a-half-year-old Great Dane, born in a shelter, then adopted, was returned when his family could no longer

  I, Foley, often report to my mom about my sisters' activities.  This is one of those reports: If only you were aware of what occurs when you are away.  On Saturday, as soon as your car left the driveway, River opened Pocket’s crate and told her she needed assistance.  Pocket groaned. Having lived the first half of her life with me, she knew that she was only needed for bad things. She told River she was too old for adventures and, after nearly 14 years, had earned the right to rest.  River said that she got into a Twitter war with Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos to go deeper into space. “As a fellow billionaire, I must meet their challenge.”   Pocket reminded River she was not a billionaire.  “I have eaten a billion kibbles.  And they are stored in my belly. I can regurgitate them when needed.  It’s a new currency I created with another billionaire friend Elon Musk:  puke coin.” Pocket considered River quite insane

 

    \What do you mean you are deciding not to get the vaccine?  Can you do that?  How come I can't?  I am tired of living under an oppressive regime that doesn't care about my rights.

  What is the worst thing you have done when left alone?

  When my dear Blogville friend Finley Westie crossed the Bridge, she was greeted by her sister Whitley who barked, “What the hell are you doing here? IWhat made Whitley react harshly when greeting Finley was a promise the latter made to stay with their mom and teach her siblings to be proper pets. Whitley saw her arrival as breaking a vow.  “I couldn’t stay forever,” Finley defended herself. “I tried to hide my pain from mom, but you know how perceptive she is. When I became incontinent and couldn’t settle down without yelping in pain, she made a choice to send me to the Bridge because she cares for me more than she loves receiving my adoration. She would sacrifice her heart to take on all my pain so I can be comfortable once again.  Even Whitley, who is totally devoted to their mom, had to admit Finley tried to fulfill her promise.  She gave her sister a hug and kiss and welcomed her to a new life at Rainbow Bridge.  I often concentrate on the pain felt by parents when a dog cro

When I first arrived at the Bridge and had not learned of the arbitrary manner that pups cross over, would, after a friend passed under extraordinarily tragic circumstances, climb the highest mountain to where the Big Guy resides, (so he can see both sides of the river), to rail at him for the unfairness of the latest passing.  The longer I have been here, the less I make that journey.   But, when Monty passed, just weeks after his sister Heidi did did, the pain their poor mom was forced to endure enraged me.  Unable to control my anger I put on two pairs of snowshoes and began to ascend the mountain to let my displeasure be aired.      Perhaps, my anger was fueled by the fact that Monty. Heidi, Meeka, and Missy-Diva were Yorkies, like me, and old online friends.  But, I like to believe I would take up the cause of any mom who had her heart ripped apart just as it was being rebuilt.   I found the Big Guy sitting on a stage high above me in an old wooden chair writing

  For all dogs, but especially those sons and daughters of Yorkshire, England, the Fourth of July is the worst night of the year. I know humans complain that we dogs make noise, but no creature on Earth raises an annoying cacophony than an American celebrating its independence. While we can adjust to the fireworks sponsored by local municipalities, which are usually short, it is the illegal backyard displays that last all night and seem to be occurring on every block that frightens us and can disrupt the digestion of our precious bodily fluids.   I hoped to take legal measures to stop this terrible practice during the past year, but battling COVID and the election dominated lawmakers’ schedules last year. I vow to redouble my efforts to end the practice in 2022. But, that did not solve the most pressing problem:  To wit - stopping backyard fireworks this year so dogs can have a peaceful night. For that, I had to rely on my sister's Pocket and River Song and the secret codes I pr

 

  I literally do crap bigger than you in the morning.

  As a pet, what is your idea of a perfect day?

  Toto wagged his tail and looked at his mom with bright eyes as she said goodbye and went to work. When she was gone, he collapsed on the floor. “It gets harder every day,” he said to his brother Max.  He was referring to arthritis that made it almost impossible for him to move. But, he would not let his mom know how much pain he was in, saying that she had enough to concern herself with. She needn’t be worried about him.  “She’s already concerned about you,” Max told him. “She knows something is wrong. You can’t hide your pain forever.” But that was exactly what Toto planned to do. We dogs are excellent at hiding our pain until it becomes too overwhelming to conceal. Toto was close to that point, but he always had a smile and tail wag for mom until it came.  But our parents are often wiser than we give them credit for being. Toto’s mom watched him closely, often out of the corner of her eye, where secrets are revealed. She saw her beloved boy struggling.  When his pain was obvio

  Every dog boasts that their parents are the best, but Monty, a labradoodle, hard facts to support his claim.     Monty and his dad Carlos loved hiking.  Every weekend brought another adventure.  Monty not only loved accompanying him, but the higher he went, the smells became stronger and more exotic.  Monty, a very well-trained pup, climbed off-leash and was allowed to explore places his dad could not go, but he always came right back when his dad emitted a sharp whistle.     As Monty aged, his dad noticed his best friend’s energy waned, and their rest periods grew longer.  When Carlos took Monty to the vet, his fears were realized.  Monty had leukemia, and there was nothing Carlos could do but keep his friend comfortable.     Monty still wanted to go with his dad on their hikes, but his spirit was stronger than his endurance.  When Carlos knew he would have to give Monty the greatest gift by freeing him from his pain and sending him to the Bridge, he decided to take his friend o

  I knew Pocket wasn’t feeling well earlier this wek, so I decided to fly down as a ghost to see her and reminisce about some of the great adventures we had together.  “Remember when we went to New York?” I asked. She groaned and said she would rather forget.  I knew she had lost her sense of daring-do, and I would have to restore it.  She was just a puppy, four months old when I learned that if I went on the computer, typed in a zip code, highlighted it, then clicked it, I would upload to where the zip code was from. When everyone was working, I took Pocket from her crate, held her paw, and uploaded us to New York City.  Pocket and I landed in the lobby of the Empire State building. “We are going to go to the top!” I said excitedly. “I bet we could see our house from there. Pocket balked saying she was scared. “It’s perfectly safe,” I told her, “unless you put your paws on the glass. Then you will fall to a terrible death.  Now follow me.”   I snuck through a door that was jammed