Tuesday, August 30, 2022
Monday, August 29, 2022
Sunday, August 28, 2022
I had a few exciting developments occur this week.
I am a dog who loves a bone. When I arrived here, three fresh bones were waiting for me, two made of kangaroo and one ostrich; I felt terrible for gnawing on their remains. Knowing their fate must be why they hide in pouches and bury their heads in the sand.
My parents assumed that I have a tender bite since I am short of stature and slight of head. When my parents play the hand game with me, they slap their mitts on a surface, like the bed, and I try to catch their hands with my mouth. They encourage me not to bite, but I inevitably catch a finger. Because I never break the skin, it is assumed my jaw isn't powerful. They never consider that I am smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds me.
One night this week, I was chewing on an ostrich bone in the big bed. My Dad noticed I was chewing something, and he reached into my mouth and pulled out part of the bone the size of four half dollars stacked upon one another. Daddy said, "I couldn't believe that fit in her mouth.
"That's what she said," I responded, but it did not garner a reply.
At that moment, a decision was made for me without my input which was quite upsetting—no more natural bones with pieces that can break up. If you notice an uptick in the ostrich or kangaroo population, you can thank me.
Luckily I loved wooden bones too. When I moved here, I was lucky to inherit my sisters' toys. My favorite is a Tweety Bird head I can throw in the air and chase. I also love a ratty toy with a fuzzy tail I got on my first vet trip. I love it, but I am worried about hair loss. When I chew it, the hair comes off in my teeth. Poor thing is suffering from rat pattern baldness.
The wooden bones were big, and I could barely hold them, so my parents ordered two smaller ones I took to immediately. After my natural bones were tossed away, I received a pack of three new wooden bones, more significant than the small ones, but I could still hold them. They are in different shapes to keep me from getting bored, and I play with them equally. I don't bogart bones.
So, I think I have my parents trained in giving treats, feeding me, letting me sleep in the big bid, and keeping me well-stocked in bones and toys. Next is leaving me home alone; my sisters never trained them.
But my parents ain't seen nothing like me.
Friday, August 26, 2022
I am happy to announce that I have finally settled on a role in our family’s legal Dynasty. I am now River Sing bailiff first class.
Every time court is in session; I get to say, “hear ye, hear ye all those who have business in front of the Honorable Judge Monster, please rise,” and then Foley struts out to her favorite Wu-Tang song and takes a seat behind the bench.
I stand by her bench, and if anyone misbehaves, I hit them with my stare of doom. That and my resting bitch face keep the proceedings in order.
I also act as a bailiff at the new angel swearing-in ceremonies. When a new angel crosses the Bridge, I escort them up Enzo’s Escalator to Hobo’s Landing, then stand next to Foley as she executes the angel Oath.
All new angels are sad, scared, and traumatized by their passing into the River of Life and coming out of the water in full angel form. I help to convince them to cross the Bridge, so they don’t become trapped in Purgatory. For many new angels, I am the first semi-friendly face they see.
Foley, having suffered an addition when I arrived, was granted leave to accumulate me into the angel family. Her way of doing this was to sit on the beach and down Foleytinis. We grieve in our way.
After I passed, the rate our friends crossed over decreased enough for Foley to consider retirement if it meant more of her friends remained mortal.
But alas, nothing stops time from passing over. This week a friend, 17-year-old Kahlua Joy, a lovable, cute, fun-loving pup, fiercely loved by Mama Fern and carrying a hundred times her weight in memories, pulled her body from the River of Life. She sat on the banks dripping water into the River, creating little ripples of love and sorrow.
When we come to the Bridge, the transformation can wipe our minds, so I first told Kahlula her name and reminded her of her mom’s tremendous love and subsequent heartbreak. Once I reminded her who she was, I informed her of who she would be: A dedicated angel who could now go anywhere with her mom, keeping her body warm by snuggling in her as I do and fighting off any misfortune her way.
Then I led her over the Bridge and to Foley, who proudly gave her the angel oath. Then all the spirits who lived with her mom before Kahlua and the friends who had preceded her affectionately greeted the Bridge’s newest arrival with 1,000 kisses.
Kahlua played with her friends, re-experiencing her youth, now that her body was young and carefree again.
We all worked hard and continue to do so to make sure Kahluau doesn’t sink into one of the Bridge’s many pits of despair.
Being a bailiff is more emotionally taxing than I expected, but as I watch Kahlula acclimate to the Bridge and knowing I helped with the transition sure is worth it.
Thursday, August 25, 2022
Angel Sammy and Teddy have given us the below picture to both entice us to join their poetry blog hop, and inspire us.
We all shuddered when the rode into town
The meanest bike gang around
First the hit the Wal-Mart
And cleared out all the Pop Tarts
They didn't pay a dime
No one would report their crime
Unless one wanted a kick in the shin
Or a spit ball on the chin
They marauded through our village
And every ice cream shop the did pilliage
They rode on our lawns
A group of real tough cons
They swam in our pools
Knowing the only ones to complain were fools
They did wheelies on the grass
And against our window they pressed ass
By sunset they had grown tired
And rode out of town most undesired
We went to bed happy it tomorrow
When back to school they will go
Tuesday, August 23, 2022
Monday, August 22, 2022
Sunday, August 21, 2022
Now that I have firmly entrenched myself in my parent’s
hearts and it hurts them more than me if I do something wrong and they
speak harshly, I can now assert my dominance over the house and take my
rightful role as the baby boss.
River taught me a trick to tell if I have ultimately won over my parents. I still don’t want to go to the bathroom outside, so I am strictly a pee-pad dog. In bad weather, River was the same way. She told me if I could put my front paws on the pad, my back paws on the floor, then pee so it misses the target. Then because Batman villains built our house, the pee ran down the uneven floor and under the pad causing an Exxon Valdez cleanup, and after all that, I do not get in trouble; I am the head of the household. I did sell thrice to establish that I could do what I wanted, even to file the floors and remain dominant.
The most mommy will say about missing the mark is to ask if I could at least try to get it on the pad. I put on my sad face, which is easy because morose is my default look. Happy face dogs must work hard to look sad and guilty, but I can do it without effort. Also, I want to ask her why doesn’t she worry about daddy missing the bowl when he pees. He’s got the aim of a one-eyed shooter with severe cataracts.
My parents still find it amusing when I see a dog, horse, or another four-legged creature on the television; I charge at the TV and then slide into the cable box recover stand on my back two legs, and furiously back until the animal is off the screen and then check behind the TV to make sure it’s gone because I know that’s how they are. My parents said that there are days of watching Westminster seems to be over. Given my dislike of horses, I think Yellowstone is out too.
After six weeks with these people, I am confident I made the right choice to join them. They picked up on the training quickly, the meals are served on time and with care, and I am left alone for less than a dozen hours a week. My parents, I think I’ll keep them.
Friday, August 19, 2022
We are joining our friends at the Adventures of the LLB Gang for Nature Friday
Today I am presenting pictures of the mighty Hydrangea
They are in Foley's, River's and Pocket's gardens.
They have all bloomed nicely this year which is not often the case
I don't go too close to them because they can make me sick
Beautiful flowers shouldn't do that
I hope you enjoy them
Thursday, August 18, 2022
Oh great big wave all mighty and strong
I would like to use your energy to right some wrongs
Like when I comment on a friend's blog and have to stop
And identify with street lights or motorbike riding cops
And I check all the pictures that look right
But cannot get back to the web site
Now it wants me to find the bicycles
From a picture using no vehicles
I just blindly check boxes
Until I hi9t the right responses
And my comment gets posted
Before from friend's lists I am demoted
The I move to Blogger
On which I am an author
But when I got to post a line
Which is surely sublime
I am told to sign in
Which I try time and time again
Until I quit
Because the stupid computer won't let me talk to friends
And why I just can't comprehend
Tuesday, August 16, 2022
Ollie and his sister Matilda had spent their life on the
streets and woods, avoiding people at all costs. But when a little girl
became lost in the Forest, they protected her by snuggling close and
risking their freedom by praying for help.
Luckily for them, the prayers came to me. I flew down and saw them protecting the girl. I had checked the human prayer center and found several requests to save the little girl. I told Ollie what he needed to do. Find the humans looking for the girl and lead them to her.
I located the rescuers and then returned to get Ollie. He followed me into the woods towards the people who would rescue the child. Regrettably, I should have found a way to signal them myself because a coyote had picked up the girl's scent and was closing it on her.
Matilda was a shy mixed breed who preferred to be gentle, so Ollie was her fighter and protector. But when she saw a threatening coyote, Matilda found the courage to challenge it. The two had a vicious fight, and after summoning great strength, Matilda chased off the coyote, but now she had a large gash on her side.
Ollie and I found the rescue and led the rescuers back to where the girl and his sister were. Truthfully Ollie could have found it without me, and he had the excellent olfactory ability.
When we reached them, Ollie let out a scared yelp and ran to his wounded sister. When the rescuers picked up the girl, she fought until they brought the injured dog with them. When Ollie followed, he was allowed in the car during the transport, and when they reached the vet, he was put in a cage while his sister had her operation.
Ollie had spent his life avoiding this situation, but now that it was here, he didn't give it a second thought. His sister's condition dominated his mind, and when she was placed next to him, she was groggy and sore but alive. He lay next to her until she began to wake, "Well, we've done it now," he said, looking through the bars.
Then from around a corner, he heard the girl's voice, and when he caught her scent in the breeze, he couldn't help but sigh, happy that she was safe. Footsteps approached. Typically, a dog would stand up, wag its tail, and put on a show, hoping to be adopted, but the duo was still afraid of humans, despite the optimistic outcome that morning, and they hid in a corner together.
The girl saw them, pointed, and said excitedly that those two dogs saved her. The cage was open, and hands full of long fingers grabbed them, and pulled them towards, what they thought was doom, but was freedom.
They were brought to a house and went inside for the first time in their lives, and, in another, they were bathed in warm water. Finally, they were placed in bed with the little girl, who hugged them, and they all fell asleep forever many mornings as the little girl's heart dogs stretched out before them.
Monday, August 15, 2022
Ollie and his sister Matilda was born on the street to a
mom who never knew love or human touch. She taught them to be afraid of
humans, which was redoubled when their mom was caught by the dog napper
and never seen again. Ollie told Matilda the street was not safe, and
they retreated into the woods.
They soon learned how to hunt and found shelter under a large, fallen tree. There were threats to their existence. Coyotes, foxes, fisher cats, and other predatory animals lived in the woods with them. When threatened, Ollie led his sister to safety and stared down at the opposition. He was a small dog with a big attitude and a growing reputation in the forest for fighting.
One day, after Ollie hunted and brought back two chipmunks to share with his sister, they heard a sound they had never encountered in the wild: A child's cry; Ollie told Matilda to wait while he investigated the noise.
He saw a young girl, no more than three, sitting in the woods, crying. Ollie hid behind a tree stump. Little humans, especially crying ones, brought bigger humans, and they would try to capture Ollie and Matilda. A bark in Ollie's head told him to run, but he could not leave the girl. The instinct to protect humans had kicked in, even though he had never had a relationship with one.
He did not hear a curious Matilda sneak up next to him. He was startled when she placed a paw on her shoulder. "She looks hurt; what should we do?" Matilda asked. Her brother said they do nothing because the baby could be a clever trap to catch them.
After watching the child cry for ten minutes against her brother's wishes, Matilda slowly approached the girl and put her head on the toddler's lap. The child bent over and cried into Matilda's soft fur.
Ollie knew he had to help and lay down next to the lost girl. She tenderly stroked his fur, and Ollie felt a calm wave pass over him. He entered that timeless state dog's experience in contact with a loving human. When he snapped out of it, he realized it was getting dark and colder. They kicked leaves on the girl to make a blanket and then lay next to her to keep her safe.
Ollie did what he had avoided doing for his entire life. He prayed for a person to come for them. The girl's safety was more important than his own,
Luckily the prayers came to me, Judge Foley Monster.
Sunday, August 14, 2022
This week marked my first month in my new home. I don’t think things could be working out better.
The hot weather, which would have made it difficult for me to breathe outdoors, but since I don’t like going out, didn’t mean anything to me, finally broke, and I got a walk midweek.
I don’t like to walk on the grass. It tickles my sensitive paws. My parents think I will submit to it since being on the tar in the summer burns my paws. But I am a stubborn little wench, and I continue to walk on tar, keeping my walking sessions brief which is good because I
I prefer the inside.
I am always one step ahead of my parents, which they make easier by continually being two steps behind.
My training the parents is going well. I have taught them how to give me a treat every time I come to them. They have started demanding that I sit, which I do because I just ran and I’m tired and stay, which is OK because it gives me a chance to catch my breath. They have tried paw, which I’m ambivalent about, but River told me it seems to make them very happy when you do it. I’m drawing the line at down and especially rollover. Foley has taught me if you do too many tricks, they’ll put you outside a subway station with a little hat on while one of them plays the squeezebox; you’re expected to perform like a circus monkey.
We have hit a bump on my road to perfection. Lately, I have been relocating my poop. I’ll pick it up in my mouth and walk around with it tucked in between my chicken gum like chewing tobacco. When it loses its flavor, I spit it out wherever I lay my head.
I’m not disgusting; you’re disgusting.
So now, when I walk down the hall towards the pads, one of my parents, usually my dad, who has all his original parts and is a tad sprier, follows me down the hall to see what my business is. Often I’m just going for a walk, and the more I do that, the slower my parents are to respond. This gives me time to poop and transport. When my parents discovered my activities, they vigorously brushed my teeth, something I didn’t like, but it’s a small price to pay for poop fresh from the shooter.
If I can come when they call my name, they should come when I poop. That’s only fair.
Foley and River have advised me not to put poop in my mouth, but Pocket, a fellow Poopaholic, says it’s a hard habit to break. Out of all the good traits I adopted from my predecessors, I cannot help but have a few bad ones sprinkled in.
That’s the Ruby Report for this week. Next week I will update you on this great poop race.
If I could poop directly into my mouth, I would never leave the house.
Friday, August 12, 2022
Some pictures of lilies from our Big Little Angels 3 Gardens
I used to feel so bad
I got so sick of having sleepless nights
I went and told my dad
And stuck them on my wall
And now my nights ain't quite so lonely
In fact I, I don't feel bad at all
Pictures of Lily helped me sleep at night
Pictures of Lily solved my childhood problems
Pictures of Lily helped me feel alright
Thursday, August 11, 2022
Our dear friends Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton founder of Poetry Corner, has given us this picture to inspire us, and be our muses.
When Johnny was in school and his passing grades were few
His teacher told him he was overdue.
When Johnny played baseball and no hits went through
His coaches told him "Johnny you're overdue."
When his friends moved away from home but his efforts went askew
His friends told him was overdue
When he couldn't hold a job for more than a week or two
Everyone told him he was just overdue
When he got a job at the library he thought his luck was born anew
Filing books was a job could pursue
But when the librarian found him asleep on a shelf she knew
It wasn't that Johnny was overdue
He was was a screw
up through and through
Tuesday, August 9, 2022
Monday, August 8, 2022
The circle of life
means different things to different species. For dogs, if we are
blessed, the right family finds us, we live with them for more than a
decade, pass on, see our family a new dog, and they take our spot, and
it begins again.
But when a child loses a parent, a dog, its mother, and a husband or his wife, there is no going to a rescue to get a new one. Sometimes a new person fills that role, but it is never easy or the same. That is why losing a person is harder than losing a pet.
At the Bridge, when we learn that one of our parents is ill, we work tirelessly to get them back to health. Often, we are successful, but sometimes, not even our greatest efforts can bring a cure.
When Atlas, Bosco, Thor, and Hans learned their Mama Diane had cancer, they began to curry favor with the Powers That Be, battle the evil determined to claim their mom for the Bridge, and give their mom the strength she needed.
Mama Diane fought hard, but even the efforts of boxer angels, strong will, and love in their hearts could not stop the evil known as cancer from claiming the victims if they choose. She stopped producing platelets due to her aggressive chemotherapy, and her body could not keep fighting. The boxer angels sadly acknowledged it was time for their mom to join the pups at their forever home.
Being an angel is brutal because they all miss the humans left behind, but when they turn to transition to the next life, their angels grow sad because keeping their survivors healthy is their duty.
The morning their mom was due to cross over, Atlas, Bosco, Thor, and Hans spent hours grooming, wanting to look their best when they greeted their mom. Of course, they could have spent the morning in a swamp, and it would not have hundred the joy felt at their reunion.
Diane crossed the Bridge on the human side where dozens of loved ones who had passed before her were waiting, and in front of them were Altas, Bosco, Thor, and Hans, standing at attention, each wearing a black bow tie.
They were supposed to wait, but when have dogs ever sat still after reuniting with a parent? They ran down a hill to the Bridge, and all leaped on her. Luckily, passing over gave strength, and their over-exuberance crushed her.
Diane had arrived at her forever home, solid and free of illness, and now she joins the angels, giving strength to those who survived and wishing, as the Boxers did, that they never arrive at this lovely, peaceful, quiet place.
If you would like to contribute to her GoFundMe Page to defray the medical costs click here
Sunday, August 7, 2022
It has now been four weeks since I came down the escalator at TF Green airport and started my campaign to be the most fly dog who has ever lived with my parents. No disrespect to the ones before me, but I will be making this poop happen to like a rap star.
On Monday, I was put in my sky blue zipper-injected ragtop superfly dog buggy while my parents wasted time and got sweaty battling nature's desire for the weeds and grass to grow. They shouldn't have ever invented lawns. Indians had it right. The Gods own the land; let them manage it. At first, I watched my parents like an overseer from a covered wagon. Then I got tired of spectating and decided to chew some, but they put nothing in with me because they don't let me chew unless they are watching me. After all, me chewing is a lot more interesting than them filling up bags with yard refuse. So, I decided to chew the inside of a buggy and was told no, then I chewed my foot and was told no. Man, fieldhands always are in a bad mood. What's a girl to do to get boned in the buggy?
The next day I got put in the crate for about a half hour. I hated it, but Foley stressed that a professional dog doesn't complain about being in the crate. I took the advice to heart even though Foley spent no time in her crate. She says if you act like it doesn't bother you, the sooner they spring you like parole for good behavior. I'm looking forward to Foley learning me lots of stuff.
Daddy came home alone, and I discovered what men without women do for the first time. The answer was to watch YouTube and snooze. That were two of my favorite activities as well. Luckily there were no videos of dogs or horses which always make me charge the TV to stand up and bark. Sometimes I do it when a black person comes on too. My parents think I'm a little racist, but it's just I'm from Florida.
After a few hours, the phone rang, and I could hear my mama on the other end, so I was happy to discover he had not clubbed her with a shovel and buried her in the woods. Daddy asked if I wanted to go with him to get mommy, and of course, I said yes. He shoved me in a backpack which wasn't very comfortable. I guess it was to keep me from distracting him while he was driving. I thought this was a mistake. I'm a better copilot than God.
Thankfully I was not in the bag for long. Mommy had gone to her groomer, and when she saw I was out of the bag and now a passenger, she scooped me up to show me to her groomer and said this was the look she wanted next time. When she is in pain or tired, she has my frown down. All she's got to do is let the facial hair grow, and she'll be in business.
I have so much more to report, but reporting is tiring, and I need to chew myself to sleep on my mommy's laugh next to my stuffed red dog.
I am living the dream.
Friday, August 5, 2022
We are joining the da LLB-Crew, for Nature Friday
My Daddy’s grandpappy spent the final two years of World War I in a trench in France. The mustard gas, which would end his life 32 years later, at the age of 51, was a constant worry.
When told the men who were lined up with him that once he got home, he only wanted to do one thing: Grow roses.
When he finally came home to the small town of Middleboro Ma, he married his girlfriend, bought a house, and planted a rose bush, that he pruned and fussed over for three decades.
His daughter took a cutting, married, moved to Taunton, MA, and kept the roses growing. His son, my Dad’s Dad, did too.
When Daddy’s cousin married and moved to the northern part of MA, she took a cutling; when Daddy moved into this home, she gave Daddy a cutling.
This is the 100-year-rose bush today, still growing strong, a long way from the trenches in France.
Thursday, August 4, 2022
It’s time for poetry!
Thursday is poetry day hosted by our good friends Angel Sammy and Teddy. Here is this week's inspirational photo and poem:
Thelma and Louise went off a cliff
But they didn't end up dead and stiff
They landed in a big net
Bounced back up and were all set
They hit the gas and kept on going
Where they went was unknowing
They say still to this day
They are riding away
Hands in the air
Still in the same underwear
Happy and carefree
With the needle far past E
Tuesday, August 2, 2022
Monday, August 1, 2022
If you are sitting on your parent's lap, and they need to get something, or use the bathroom, do they hold out for as long as possible or ask you to move right away?
Ruby's Answer: They shuffle around a bit trying to get me to move until they can't take it anymore and move me
After 21 years, Tien had given everything she had, and it was time to cross over. Some people say when a pet parent and animal, like Momma...
Are you a trip hazard? Have your parents ever tripped over you? How often? Did anyone get injured
Last year Pocket and I went to see a marvelous show called Jersey Boys. In it the character of the bassist for the Four Seasons, Nick Mas...