Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

You want me to get up for the pregnant lady? Let me tell you, I’m pregnant too. I got about seven of them, draining me from the inside. If she has seven in there, I would gladly get up, but since she doesn’t buzz off 

Monday Question

 What do your parents say to you to stop you from doing something bad

My parents say either no, or get down because I get up a lot.

I ignore both 

The Ruby Rose Report: Balls!

 

Pocket has often visited me in my dreams and extolled the virtues of playing ball. She was upset that none of her other siblings had followed in her paw steps, and when she met me immediately began barking about the bouncing ball.

At first, I was not impressed with the balls. I liked bones, something I could get in my mouth and rub my teeth against. Girls like me often leave the ball untended, and it shrinks into the back of the toy box undetected.

I am low-key most days, as I build my energy in case of an emergency where a dog running around the house confused and nonsensically barking is required. But, the stored energy that is yet to be needed bubbles over, usually twice a week, around midnight. I jump out of bed and run into the living room. Like a young mother who has been with the baby all day and needs to sleep, she orders my dad to stay up with the unruly child.

I have a lot of toys, more than my pack's dogs have had, and I have soft stuffies and hard bones. In times of excess energy, I take everything out, throw it in the air, and run after it, then return for what is next until the toy box is empty. One night last week, I saw a ball tucked in the back; I picked it up and spat it out.

I picked it up and whipped my head, releasing the ball. It bounced high and rolled on its own, causing my instincts to kick in, and I chased the ball, picked it up, and did it again. Look at what I have been missing! Then the ball rolled to Daddy, who picked it up and threw it, and now the ball was bouncing and darty. I ran after it, caught it, and triumphantly ran around the house. It was the best way to burn off unwanted energy ever!

I spent more than an hour playing with the ball. Fortunately, the ball squeaked so I could make noise and keep Daddy awake. Finally, I laid down, and was brought into the bedroom, where I got on the mattress, then stood on Mommy for a whole minute pretending I was Hilary and her breasts were Mount Everest. She wishes.

That night Pocket visited me in my dreams, happy that she had a sister who likes a ball in her mouth, like my aunty. Pocket will teach me to tend to my balls, make sure I don't use too much tongue and don't bite hard.

I am lucky to have an angel who knows so much about balls: Yellow, red, and even blue.

I can't wait to play ball again.

Foley's Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Welcoming Nathan the Prophet

 

 We all go to the Bridge: That's a fact, but some dogs rage against the dying light and don't leave our parent's side until every measure of our devotion has expired.

Nathan the Prophet was named so because he is a wise, all-seeing pup, so when he began to feel poorly, he knew exactly what was happening, and each night he met the darkness by saying: "Not today."

It was 19 months ago when Nathan began to show his advanced age. He began to lose control of every part of his southern region: His legs weren't working well, and the bay doors on his butt were stuck open. Momma Barbara didn't mind. When you are in a long relationship, you understand that someday one will clean the other's poop.

Nathan decided to combat his failing lower part by turning the top part to all puppy: He began to chew everything in sight and destroy things that shan't be destroyed. It was his way of saying to his mom: "I am still here, and I am not ready to leave." His mom minded this slightly more than cleaning poop. You don't have to go to the store to buy poop that has been torn to shreds.

Momma Barbara began considering aiding Nathan with his transition to the Bridge. Still, he let her know, when he was outside, that he wanted to stay despite his need for diapers and inability to get his butt on the couch. He did so by playing and barking: Announcing to the neighbors he was still there and not going anywhere.

But, inevitably, we all do have a place to go at the end, and despite all of Nathan's love and determination, this week, his mortal song came to an end, and Momma Barbara helped him cross over and took on his pain, his guilt, his suffering, and set him free.

A large group cheered Nathan as he crossed the Bridge and a large welcoming committee. He told me there must be some confusion, he wasn't a prophet, but I told him they were there for the Nathan part, not the Prophet part.

Nathan asked me to write down what he did and report it to his mom because he knew it would make her smile. He is sniffing every glistening piece of grass and tree trunk. He inspects the fences, finding holes, squeezing through them, and running freely. He stops and tells everyone he sees about the smells he encountered, then runs and sniffs, trying to burn off all the sorrow he feels about crossing and hoping his mom can see him in her dreams and that it might raise a smile.

Because that is what the Prophet said.

Poetry Thursday

 

 

Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton 

have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday.

Here is our meager offering  

 

 

 

Darren asked Suzie to dance, just for one song

It wouldn’t be long

Five minutes tops 

At the local sock hop

She was light as a feather 

As they danced together

The time flew by

Until he felt pain in his thigh

They had been dancing for many minutes more than a few

Ane looked at Frank the piano player for a cure

But Frank knew there was something very wrong

He could not find the end of the song

He heard dancer’s feet begin to drag

As he played jazz time rag

He had studied so hard the start

He had forgotten the closing part

The dancers kept going round and round

To stop in the middle of a song was upon frowned

But they were afraid of passing out

As they twirled one another about

Finally Darren spoke up

And yelled “Frank you schupp

Stop playing that damn ditty

Our dates are sweaty and not pretty

But Frank thought he could find the end

And said just hold on to his friend

He thought he could end with a flair

But that hope ended when Darren hit him with a chair

They all crawled the seats along

Some just did a fall

Frank was never asked to play piano, not even to pretend 

Because he knew the beginnings but not the ends