Beat This Caption

 

The cat's out of the bag: I just told Steve he's black. 

Monday Question

This may be hard for your parents, and takes some imagination, but what do you dream about?

I dream that I am a big, mighty dog, who commands respect, and snuggle all day with my even bigger and mightier mom. 

 

Ruby Rose: Speaker of the House

 

After a long vote and several chaotic meetings, I was chosen as the new speaker of the House.

Which House? The only one that counts: My House.

And what does it mean? I am the first in the House to speak my opinion.

And I have a lot of opinions.

I spend most of the day ruling from my perch on the recliner I share with my mom. But, if needed, I am ready to spring into action.

I may have a tiny head, but my ear-to-skull ratio is high, and I can hear many things. I could say I am the Hearer of the House, too, but that sounds silly.

So I usually hear a voice from a distance, and I jump down, run to the living room window, stand on my back legs to see, and genuflect (I am spayed, we talk with our paws) and speak.

Several things could make a noise outside my window: Humans, cars, and animals. That's about it.

Once in position and am locked onto my target, as they walk towards the House, I bark, "Come here, come here, come here, come here," and when they reach the driveway and start walking away, I bark: "Go away, go away, go away, go away, which they do."

Then, when they pass the driveway, I bark: "Come back, come back, come back, come back!" They never do, but in case they didn't hear this, I continued to bark it for 87 minutes.

Then, I am tired and go to Mom's recliner, climb under the blanket, curl up on her lap, and - Wait, is that the sound of a human? Time to start again.

But, humans are only part of the problem: Outside my windows, dogs on leashes, on my lawn. What kind of speaker would I be if I didn't bark at them to get off my lawn and never return?

Once they have heeded my barks, I stay at the window, barking, to make sure the violators know not to come back. And, if they are unaccompanied, I use some words only heard on HBO Paw.

When the men with boxes stop by our House, I bark at them: "What is it? What is it? What is it? What is it?" but they don't answer. The most be sworn to secrecy by the King of the Amazon.

Being on call to be Speaker of the House 24 hours is hard, so sometimes, from my mom's lap or the bed, I will stand up and bark the dog equivalent of: "Hey you kids, get off my lawn!"

And, sometimes at night, when I can't see anything, I still stand at the window and bark because, you don't know, something could be out there.

Yours truly,
Ruby Rose
The Speaker of the House

Friday Fill Ins

 

Today I am also joining in Friday Fill-ins Blog Hop with the pawesome 15 & Meowing and Four-Legged Furballs.

The originial statement are in plain text and my answers (Ruby Rose) in red. 

1. If I were to attend a Halloween party, my costume would be bitching.

2. On Halloween, I plan to Stand at the winfow and bark at the people in the street, then bark when there are no people in the street, and to bark the loudest if a costumed cutie comes to the door, and if they try to touch me run away and hide. It's a proven winning formula.

3. If my life were a scary movie, it would be titled Where's Mom?

4. If I found an ouija board, I would lie on top of it and hope no spirits try to leave a Griffon message. 

Poetry Thursday

 

 

Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton are on vacation, so I found my photo.

The family was happy when they got a new cat

He fit right in the house like a natural diplomat

But there was a problem with the cat named Bart

Man, did he have to fart

And it wasn’t just the smell that ruined the day

It was a bodily function that got in the way

Because as much as the family loved Bart

All that cat did was fart

But it wasn’t just the awful smell that was the trouble

When Bart farted, it sounded like someone sucking through a straw a bubble

It was like a high-pitched scream

Something out of a twisted dream

When friends called the house, they heard awful sounds

Like a child beaten up, down, and around

They even call special services

And the parents had to explain to the police that it was just their cat who was nervous.

Their parents worked at home after the plague caused a shutdown

During the ZOOM meeting, his parents saw the others frown

Because in a room next to the computer

Came the sound of a squirrel that a child with a dull knife was trying to neuter

Bart had a sister, Rita was her name

And their mom was to interview for a new job with some acclaim

Rita knew if they heard Bart’s farts, the interviewers would imagine the terrible things they could have saw

So Rita jammed into Bart’s butt her paw

The quieted Bart’s flatulence.

And the interviewees were about to say now; their mom did dazzle When they heard a terrible plopping sound coming from Rita.

Being so close to Bart’s butt had given her explosive diarrhea.

And so the lesson was learned 

And into their minds was burned

When it came to naming a cat and causing no disfunction

Never name it something that rhymes with a bodily function. 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Oh my God, not only is Amy not dead but she’s framed Nick for her murder

Monday Question

 Do you take any supplements?

I am not, but River used to be on some for her achy joints and Pocket took a probiotic. 

The Ruby Rose Report: How to Chase a Squirrel

 

: Ruby Rose has submitted another report to the Home Office. Here is your copy.

I was taking a lovely walk this week when a squirrel ran before me. I barked at it. The thing stopped and looked at me, which caused me to stand behind my Dad to protect his rear flank. Luckily, the squirrel left us in peace. 

That night, my dreams were anything but peaceful.

Foley entered them with her tail down and scowl on her face. She demanded to know why I had not confronted the squirrel.

I told her he seemed like a friendly chap, and I did not want to disturb him.

“He’s squirrel, they are not fine chaps,” Foley explained, “and if you don’t believe me, let my friend Steve the Squirrel tell you.” A bushy-tailed squirrel appeared behind him. It frightened me, but I stood my ground and asked, if squirrels were terrible, why was she with one?

“It is different at the Bridge,” Foley told me. “We are all friends here, but when I was the Condo Queen, and Steve used to climb up on the back porch and scratch his nuts I hated him.”

“The feeling was mutual,” Stephen said. “Foley was inside the nice, warm house and I was outside freezing. I hated her, and her cushy life. Now we get together for an acorn beer and talk about the old times.”

“But,” Foley said, “to do that you must play your roll and chase a squirrel. You can’t just ignore him.”

“Besides,” Stephen said, “the squirrel wants to be chased, it makes us feel like we are part of nature. And do you know what the squirrel said to you?” I shook my head. “He said your undercarriage smells of enderberries.”

He might be right about that.

“Even Pocket chased the squirrels, and she spent her life trying to run in fear from her own shadow.”

With the pep talk, I was ready to chase a squirrel on my next walk.

I saw the same one crossing the street on my walk. I was with Daddy, who had a tight hold on my leash. I knew he would not let me get hurt. So, I lunged and barked at the squirrel, happy when I was pulled back.

The squirrel stopped at the tree and smiled before he climbed up.

I had my first enemy, which I know is good because enemies become friends on the other side, and I can always use friends, even if I have to chase and bite at them first.

Flashback Friday: Foley and Pocket Crash a State Dinner

 Of all the embarrassing situations my sister has got me into, last weekend was the worst.

 I should have known, given the problems Foley caused when she nipped the kitty and the current administration’s pressuring me to abandon my independent run for Massachusetts Senate since I will not support a universal health care bill that does not include dogs, that we were not invited to a State Dinner.

 But Foley insisted we were. Since she is an administrator of a website, she has been given the codes to travel through the series of tubes, which is the Internet and can pop up anywhere that has an Internet hookup. Because there are many such computers at the White House, she insisted our access to the dinner would be a snap.

 The actual invitation, though, proved to be a problem.

 We went to the Groomer, and Foley told her about the State Dinner, and she laughed and scratched her head and told her she had the best stories. Foley huffed and spent the rest of her grooming in a snit. As for me, I sat very still, let them work their magic, rolled my little brown eyes at Foley’s impatient sighs, and eagerly snapped up her portion of the treats.

 That night, Foley arranged for our Mommy and Daddy to have their special dinner in exchange for free advertisement on her Twitter page, and once they were gone, Foley furiously began to pound her paws on the keyboard. She then barked at me to hop on the laptop. I did, and the next thing I knew, we were being sucked through a series of tubes and popped out in a circular office with a blue rug and a beautiful American flag.

 “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked Foley as we hopped down on the floor.

 “You want to mark the carpet?” Foley said.

 I nodded, and together we sprinkled that blue carpet, and whoever uses that round office, and whoever may use it in the future, needs to know we marked it and it’s ours.

 We went through the door, and Foley told me that we had to run to the front doors so we would go in with the crowd. I wondered why, if we were invited, we needed to go through the line, but Foley, that old girl, is relatively fast, and it was everything I could do to keep up with her.

 We weaved through the people, who were too busy making sure their noses were held appropriately high to notice two little, well-groomed Yorkies, and took our spot at the back of the line. When we reached the front, Foley said: “Foley Monster, accompanied by her sister Pocket Rocket Dog.’

 The man in the suit flipped through the pages and said we were not on the list. Foley stood on her back legs and began to bark that this was discrimination, that the administration was anit-dogies, and what happened to the change we could believe in? Fearing a scene with so many media in line behind us, the man in the suit called in his supervisor, who bent down, smelled us both, stated that we smelled like the rug, and let us in.

 Do you know what we found out are alike? A State Dinner and a doggy park filled with six-month-old male puppies who have not been spade because they both have lots of humps.

 I think Foley and I were the two prettiest Lollipops there because everyone wanted to have their picture taken with us: The Chief of Staff, the Vice-President (who is all hands, my tail got stroked more than it did at the groomers), and even the President himself who said Foley looked familiar, but my sister hurried us away before the jet-lagged President could remember.

 Then they announced it was time for dinner, and I panicked because we did not have place cards. But Foley said our place was under the table where the excellent food always ends—it made sense to me. We crouched under the table and were getting significant bits of fumbled portions. I told Foley the Indian Prime Minister ate like a pig, and she laughed and told me that was ironic, but I didn’t know what none of that meant.

 Everything was going great, and then little Malia came walking in, and she started looking under the table. Foley and I were trying to hide under whatever the Indian guy was wearing when Malia looked under the table and said, “Look, it’s Foley Monster.”

 The President stood up and said, “Foley Monster, we did not invite Foley Monster.” I turned and looked at my sister, and I swear steam was coming out of my little ears. Foley didn’t let the steam bother her. She just grabbed me by the paw and said, “Run.”

 We ran from under the table, and all these big guys, with ties, sunglasses, and radios, began running after us while the President yelled that he couldn’t even put on a State Dinner without getting screwed up. As we ran down a long hall, the men were getting closer, and then we saw Bo, the Presidential dog, at the end of the hallway.

 Bo ushered us into his office and locked the door. (I don’t know why the President’s dog would have an office, but you’ve stuck with me this far, so why start asking questions now?) He wondered how we got there, and Foley told her about the computer codes. Bo asked for them. Foley refused. The evil men were banging on the door. I begged Foley. She told me she didn’t know if she could trust Bo. I nipped her. Bo said he was First Dog, and if he couldn’t be charged, who could? The men said they were going to shoot off the knob. Reluctantly, Foley surrendered the codes, and Bo typed them in; we jumped on the keyboard and were transported just as the evil men came through the door.

 We got home, and Foley put me in my crate and lay in her blanket just as Mommy and Daddy came home. We had to act like we had been sleeping all night and jump and bark when exhausted. Luckily, we thought we had got away with our adventure.

 Until the following day when the newspaper arrived, and on the front page was a story about the couple who crashed the White House dinner with a picture of us with that grabby Vice-President.

 Well, Mommy and Daddy were unhappy, and Foley has been banned from the computer until further notice, which is why I am telling you this.

 Foley is on her blanket. She ordered her Blackberry, so she’ll be back online soon. She always has a way to find her way back online and into trouble.

 Some good did come from our escapades. Bo is now traveling around the world. While humans in different countries continue to fight, dogs live to love and to all be part of the same pack, and since we have such control over our owners, this may be the best chance of ever having peace on earth for the holidays.

 And you can bet Foley and I will be traveling again. So if you feel little paws under the table or a little warmth in your bed at night, just drop a bit of food or enjoy the snuggle because it’s just Foley and Pocket having traveled through the series of tubes to your house. 

Poetry Thursday

 Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday.

 

Once again, Angel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton have provided us with a photo for Poetry Thursday.

Winona had wandered to far from home

It was dark; she was lost and alone

The only house in sight looked haunted, standing in the gloam

So she walked up the steps, opened the door, and said Shalom

The door opened with a mighty creak.

The inside was dusty and bleak

The house had a certain mystique

Winona stepped forward with knees most weak

A thin elderly man approached the corner and asked, “Who are you?”

Shocked, Winona didn’t know what to do

So she decided to say what was true

She was far away from home without a clue

The man welcomed her to stay there

He knew the house could give off a scare

She had a bedroom, and she could keep the door blocked with a chair

He promised her she would not have a moment of despair

She took him up on his kind offer and went into a spare room

But, as she lay there, she could not avoid the feelings of doom

But in the middle of the night, there was a big boom

And footsteps on the floor, and she did not know whom

She looked outside and saw three men in the hall

They looked scared, disappointed, and small

Then she realized she had seen the men and the tragedy that befall

And she realized accepting the invitation would be her downfall

Scalise, McCarthy, and Jordan were their names

And her fates and theirs were the same

For now, she knew the house and from which it came

The House of Representatives was still standing after a country went down in flames. 

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

After falling for the cat in the box trick Harry the Porch Pirate swore, while recovering from a heart attacked. to never to steal another Amazon package again.

Monday Question

 

What do your parents do if you have a loose bowel movement?

1. A) Figure Sh, it happens
2. B) Decide to make chicken and rice until it clears up
3. C) Call a very for advice
4. D) Rush you to the vet for treatment
5. E) Go on the Internet to find out about diarrhea
6. F) Watch your next bowel movement coming out like a captain on Deadliest Catch watching a crab pt surface to see if it is full
7. H) Pray
8. I) Render garments and speak in tongues

Ruby's Answer: At some point, all of them

Foley Monster's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: The Day Brian Crossed Over

 

: I liked to think of myself as a big deal when I crossed over, and the hundreds of friends who met me confirmed it. But, my celebration looked modest regarding the reception my friend Brian received when he crossed into Blogville.

Brian is a leader in the cat world and the mortal Blogosphere. Cat blogging is even more popular than one that features dogs, and Brian's blog is a can't-miss for all his loyal fans. He leads a large pack of cats, all with different attitudes and problems, but Brian keeps them in line.

But most of all, Brian was a heart cat, capturing his parent's affection like no other. His fame meant nothing to him; all he wanted was the companionship of his favorite humans. He gave them the greatest gift: to feel loved, to have their heart full, to know that, to Brian, they were his world.

It's the way we pets look at you, with all the devotion heaven will allow, that parents miss the most. Those eyes say everything will be okay; you are loved and not alone. I hope Brain's parents can find that with their pact or any new members. People have a hard enough time surviving; without that look, it makes every day darker and more complicated.

I always thought taking Brian from the mortal world would be something huge. But, as is often the way, it is the most minor thing to take her hero down, an infected tooth that spread to his lungs. He was suffering, so his parents took all his pain and sorrow onto themselves, freeing him from being in pain forever. It is the way our parents repay us for their love.

Brian felt everything that hurt and scared him disappear in the River of Life. He scampered out and crossed the Bridge. He still felt sad, leaving so much behind, but the Bridge doesn't let you feel poorly for long. There is too much love all around for that.

Brian was cheered and feted like a conquering hero. He had lived his life defining what it meant to be a cat. Brian made sure he thanked everyone who had come out for him.

Then, he was shown a mansion he had earned for being a cat above and beyond others. Brian thanked everyone and said he would wait for his parents to come home, and until then, he would lie on a sofa waiting for them, looking out the big bay window at the frolicking angels.

Brian should wait for his parents because he never wanted to be anything more than a family cat.

His doing it better than anyone else means little to him.

The rubs, scratches, and soft pets, and he will wait when his parents reunite with him, and sit in the overstuffed chairs in the mansion, Brian on their lap, purring, while watching the sunrise on a perfect day.