The Ruby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3 Blog

We angels spend so much time trying to comfort our parents after we leave we often forget others are mourning us, specifically our siblings, who are far more likely to follow us into the dark than our parents are. Pocket knew I was sick and didn't mourn me when I was gone but concentrated on aiding my grieving parents.  River, after two months, still looks for Pocket but she loves being an only dog. Other dogs don't adjust as well. One of them, Raja, arrived at the Bridge this week after suffering from a myriad of issues none more significant than a broken heart after losing her brother Logan. Through many adventures, Raja was Logan's sidekick, and despite watching Logan deteriorate before her eyes, she was still stunned when he passed.  Each day she would check his bed and other favorite spots, but her brother never appeared. When Logan went to the Bridge, he took part of Raja with him, which proved to be vital. Raja was never the same dog after Logan departed.

      As you know, minions are terrible humans worth redemption but must first serve angels until they redeem themselves. We are assigned humans who abuse dogs, and it is up to us to determine when they can become angels.     Since I arrived at the Bridge, Cecil has been my top minion. I found him to be diligent and trustworthy. When he was mortal, I was shocked to find out that he left his dog tied to a tree in a blizzard and the poor creature froze to death. He certainly deserved being a minion for a long time. I didn't think I could ever look past his transgressions.     Every year the minions are reviewed to see who should become angels. If I judge that they have exorcised all the traits that made them fail as a living human, I agree to let them go. What I look for is for my minions to tell me what they did was wrong. This is where Cecil failed, insisting what happened to his dog was not his fault.     Cecil's review came up this week. I didn't want

    Just because you arrived at Rainbow Bridge doesn't mean you want to socialize with the other angels.  Some people are just better off on their own. High up in the mountains is a house the no one visits occupied by a person to whom no one talks.  Many angels have tried, but none of them has been successful.  It was time for another to try, and I thought it should be me. "It shouldn't be you," Pocket said.  I asked her why.  "You are a lot to deal with and rather impatient.  To approach a hermit, you need someone passive, like me.' I bit her a hundred kibbles that she would never get past the front door.  We set out the following day, climbing high up the mountain to the shack.  There was a fence around it, and we had to dig under it, which I hated because I had just got my nails done.   We knocked on the door and were told to go away by someone with a strong, deep voice.  It sent a  shudder down both our backs.  Still, a hundred kibbles are t

 

  You prick

How vocal are you, when are you vocal and do you have conversations with your parents?   River:  I bark when I hear noises, when I want food, or when someone comes over.  I talk through growls all the time, and my parents answer like they understand me, which they mostly are. 

It all began when Jake thought he saw a kibble. Jake, a border collie, is a wanderer, something rare in this world of leash laws. Unlike splendid isolation, Jake's family constructed a lovely home deep in the woods.  Far behind them was a cliff overlooking a lake.  Jake loved exploring the area. He likes jumping off the slight cliff into the cool water and swimming downstream, where he can easily climb out.  He thought he knew every inch of the terrain.  But Mother Earth can change her appearance overnight and catch us unaware. that was literally on you Jake's downfall   Jake was exploring the cliff when he saw something new. A large crack had developed in the ground. Jake sniffed around it. Confident that he had seen something lying at the bottom of the opening, Jake jumped into it.   He immediately realized he had made a grievous miscalculation. There was nothing at the bottom worth jumping in after, just water that wet his paws. The walls were too steep to cli

      When my doppelganger appeared and chained me in a barn, I thought Riley had done it just to replace me.  I did not know she was a group of denizens from the dark side who intended to take over the Bridge  A rabbit named Quick freed me, but my family and the other angels believed Riley was me.  When they turned on us, we took refuge in the river where we needed to formulate a plan to stop the villains.   Pocket, who knew I was the real Foley, and for that reason, was hunted by Riley's minions, lay on the riverbank, wet and cold.  "What are we going to do?" she cried. Riley may look like me, but she had none of my memories.  If we contacted our friends and I proved to them, I was the actual Foley by stating facts about our relationship that only I would know, we could form an army to prove Riley was a fraud and send her back to the barn where she belonged.   The first dog we saw was Aran.  She began to bark when we appeared, thinking we were the evil an

  Thank to a rabbit named Quick, I escaped the barn where my doppelganger and her lackey Daddy Beevis had chained me.  I had to get back to Doggyspace and reclaim my life. We found the road back to my house.  On the way, I promised Quick he could live in my yard, where there is yummy vegetation to chomp.  When we finally reached my home, I heard raucous laughter.  I looked in the window and saw my family sitting down for dinner, and at the head of the table, I was regaling them with what I thought was a mundane story. I burst into the house and said, "That Foley is an imposter, I am the real one." "There she is," the Faux Foley yelled, pointing at me, "my double who is trying to take over my life!" Riley was clever.  She was doing the old fake double switch.  Thankfully for me, my family would, upon seeing me, know who the real Foley was.  Jax hoped down to greet me, or so I thought, instead he yelled "imposter!' and, along with my sib

  I was enjoying my morning walk when I became aware of someone following me.  Every time I turned back, there was no one there.  Finally, I ducked down an alley, then stepped back out to catch my follower red pawed.  I was shocked to see, except for being dirty, the dog looked like me. I asked her why she was following me when someone put a bag over my head and threw me on the rear end of a horse.  When the bag was removed, I was in a barn; the fiends quickly put a collar on my neck and chained me to a wall.  I demanded to know why this was happening.   My Dopplengar introduced herself as Riley.  Despite being one of the prettiest Yorkies in existence, she never had a home on the mortal side, and even at the Bridge, lived on the street.  Riley thought it was her destiny to be alone when she read Doggyspace Daily and saw my picture.  That is when she began to formulate her evil plan.   Because of circumstances bey

  We dogs are adept at hiding pain and illness.  Not only do we hide them from our parents but our friends too. That is why I was surprised to see my friend Ruby the Aerrdale on the list of dogs to be sworn in on Saturday.  I read every post, visited Ruby in her dreams, and she has never barked a word about being ill. I saw the reason for her impending arrival was arthritis. Ruby's old bones were betraying her body. She also had a tumor on her eye and two on her breasts.  The longer we live, the more we have to carry. Because her mom loved her more than she did herself, she sent him to us where she could be happy and carefree. Ruby was a lucky dog. She had scores of online friends who followed her, enjoying her numerous posts and always happy to see her smiling face. That was why there were so many pups awaiting her arrival. Overnight the beavers, carpenter ants, and skilled minions built Ruby her home in Blogville. I  have a place there, too, and at Doggyspace, Tanner

If you could dress up for Halloween as something that reflected personality what would it be? River:  I would be grumpy cat   \

  You would think that there were no disputes between angels at the Bridge, but sadly there are.  Usually, one soul will ask another for a favor, and in payment, choose a service that the requestor can do for them.  Problems occur when one of the parties does not believe the contract was upheld. That is when litigants come to me:  Judge Foley Monster.      Last month I had a tough case.  Morey, a male poodle, had a malfunction in his favorite body.  His nails kept growing.  He went to Lovey's Salon, and she agreed to do his claws until he went to Happily Ever After, and in payment, Morey would bring Lovey one fresh fish each week.     Lovey did a fantastic job with Morey's nails, but the fish was boney with very little meat on it.  Lovey was dissatisfied and filed her briefs with me.     I summoned them to my courtroom.  Lovey, a Shih Tzu, came in perfectly groomed.  Morey limped down the aisle, with his back end

  Pocket has been getting up early and going somewhere for the last couple of weeks.  When I ask her where she has been, she says just for a walk.  I didn't believe that for a second.  She was having fun without me, and I could not stand it.  I had to follow her. I knew as soon as I got outside that I was not as prepared as Pocket. I had chosen to wear my eight-year-old body, which was comfortable but carries a few extra pounds. Pocket picked her puppy body and lengthened the distance between us, causing me to do the most dreadful activity:  Running.   Pocket came to a mud puddle with a round log over it. Because of her diminutive size, she was able to scurry across. I had to move more carefully, and when I came to a slick spot in the middle, I slid off into the mud covering my body. I stood and tried to clean myself off, although nothing would cleanse my humiliation. I followed Pocket's path for a minute and saw her smelling a tree trunk. Were these directions to

  I Pocket Dog am taking over the reporting duties from my sister, Foley, who is judging a pumpkin contest at Doggyspace on the Bridge, where we like to keep our weather concurrent with the seasons our parents are experiencing.  It is autumn for many of us, which means cooler weather, shorter days, and an obsession with pumpkins, all capped with the gourd growing contest.   The morning of the competition, I was surprised to see a frantic Tango knocking on my door. I had been inspecting the pumpkin gardens and knew that Tango had, by far, the best crop.   But now, it was apparent something was wrong.   I asked Tango what was wrong. He said that someone had stolen his prized pumpkin from the patch.  He had come to Foley for help, but any interference from the judge could cause Tango to be disqualified from the contest.  This was a job for Pocket, Girl Detective. I brought Tango into my office and asked her when was the last time he saw the missing pumpkin. "Last night, I

  Dear Sweet Mommy:  Humans always think that they are the ones who pick out their pets, but as you know, between dream visits, prayers, and old-fashioned persuasion, we choose you.  Sometimes, when we don't have access to dreams or a way to get to your subconscious, we have to hunt ourselves down. One of those dogs is a Yorkie/Shiz Tzu from Spain named Moxie.  Before he picked his new parents, he needed permission to leave his old ones. Dogs take an oath to look after their families for life, but people also take wedding vows, which they often break, sometimes before the end of the reception.  Moxie had picked out a quiet man who lived in the country as his dad.  It was a wise choice, but after two years, the man's heartbeats ran out, and the man's brother, who viewed dogs as workers, and gave Moxie the job of clearing rats from the barn.  It was not a life Moxie enjoyed.   Moxie sent a prayer asking

 To make ends meet Arthur took a job shooting gerbil porn

  Do you watch your parents eat? Do your parents watch you wat? River's Answer:  Yes on both counts

  I hate bullies of all sizes and species.  They are often cruel.  They tend to look for the weakest souls and hurt them.  As a Yorkie, bullies mistook me for being weak, but any dog who crossed my path learned differently.  For human children, dispatching a bully is more challenging than a hardy snarl and snap. Larry was a sweet little boy.  He loved stories about wizards and dreamed of being one himself.  He spent his afternoons in his room, performing spells.  At recess, Larry and his friends would practice wizardry.  Their activity caught the attention of bullies named Andre and Davis.  Larry's crew wasn't bothering anyone, but Andre and Davis were feeling a particular way and decided to hurt the group of wizards.  Their victims were sitting in a circle, casting fake spells, from a book Larry's grandmother had given him.  Upon seeing the bullies, everyone scattered except for Larry.  Davis lifted him from behind, and Andre punched Larry in the belly, sen

   I, Pocket Dog, am taking over the writing from Foley Monster, who was out late last night drinking Foleytinis and is sleeping off the effects. Thankfully, no pups were waiting to take the angel oath in our district. I like days when the population here at Doggyspace doesn't grow, but I got a message from my cat friend Paddy who said a kitty I knew was crossing over. As the Doggyspace ambassador to the cats, I thought it was my duty to be there to greet the newest cat angel. Paddy greeted me after I made the trek between the two lands. I got there minutes before the crossing over. That is when I saw my social media friend Kismet, who belonged to Momma Cynthia, crossing the Bridge with her head high. Kismet is a beautiful siamese. It reminded me of when I met Gizmo. She was my parents' siamese in the 90s and put them off of cats for decades. Gizmo was an attack cat who liked to hide in corners, jump on his unsuspecting victims, or leap at them from her perch o

Dear Sweet Mommy: I, sweet little Pocket, have taken over the writing duty today because Foley is sleeping off our grand adventure with the golden eggs. It gives me a chance to state how much I liked hanging out with you on Monday in my praying mantis body. It felt like iI was a real dog again.  When I told Foley that I was visiting you as a praying mantis, she told me not to do it because praying mantis bodies are bulky and challenging to manage.   But, I have been an angel for more than a month and felt up ready. The issue with a praying mantis body is that they aren't airborne, which means I had to find a flying form, then trade it for the praying mantis, with a layover at your neighbor's house.  I used a bee.  I have earned a good reputation with them, and I like the buzzing.  I flew to where Maude, the praying mantis, was hanging to a leaf, hidden by the plants towering over him.  I had visited

 

  The baby?  Don't ask me.  It must have gone out for cigarettes or something.

 What is the oddest animal you have ever seen?

River is a very relaxed dog as long as you are within her site line. Unlike Pocket, who is praying for some perceived problem to go away daily, I rarely get requests from River, which is why I flew down to see her in her dreams when she reported that she was in dire straits.    I asked her what was wrong and she said that there was a vicious dog loose in our village and it attacked her while she was on a walk. I was incensed that some dog violated my sister. Also, I was worried because loose dogs usually lose battles with cars and end up at the Bridge.    I got the perpetrator's address and went to see the violator. When I arrived at their house, I saw a tiny three-pound black and white fluff ball sleeping in a dog bed. I asked if he was the only dog there, and he replied yes. Could this little runt be the pop scaring my brave sister?   "My sister Riversong walks by your house, and she claims that a

      Willie, Chelsea Smoochy, and I entered the dark side to rescue Spencer, a friend of Willie's incorrectly assigned there.  The dark angels immediately captured us, but a quick-thinking Ashton saved us, and in turn, we saved all the dogs sent there, including Spencer.  As we tried to leave, squirrels of unusual size stopped us.  The only way out was through them.  We charged. Usually, I would bet on dogs in any fight with squirrels, but only the pups in my raiding party were battle-ready.  Their captors had neglected the rescued angels for their entire time at the Bridge, and, while their spirit was willing, they did not have the stamina to battle giant, armor-wearing tree rats. Also, the squirrels were angry and armed.  I never thought about how we treated them on the mortal side, but all that chasing and occasional killing made these angels angry.  Now that they were the larger species, they were intent on revenge. Chelsea and I, being the smallest in our group,