Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

I'm melting, I'm melting

Monday Question

What is your reaction when you see another animal?

I bark my head off in the most embarrassing fashion, then dart behind one of my parents to hide.

The Ruby Rose Report: My Spot

 

For dogs, their place is near their humans. Our favorite spots are snuggling on a lap, under a warm blanket, next to a human, or under the covers.

           But sometimes we need a place of our own for some time.

           I finally have one.

           It happened after the Christmas tree was shoved in a bag like a hostage and brought into the little house in the back where the ornaments and garden supplies are kept to await an elf to pay a ransom of eight months sunshingarden growth. My parents have limited space to rearrange the furniture. They can only swap the loveseat, the lift chair, and a couple of end tables. When they did, they discovered it opened up a space in front of the TV.

           My predecessors did not occupy much space: They were happy in the kitty condo. They didn’t enjoy toys as much as I did. But I need more living places to spread out on a blanket or mat and chew my toys.

           This was the result.

           I have a warm blanket to live on while I chew from my bone collection, but it is accurate and plastic. I scored this Christmas when I got four little natural hollow marrow bones, which were packaged for a holiday sale and are now in an early January sale. They are my favorites right now, but I know I shall soon succumb to the siren song of the Nyla bone.

           I also have my soft toys nearby, Both squeaky and crinkly. I prefer the wavy, and that squeaking gives me a headache.

           At the end of the blanket is a small, thick mat that leads to the world-famous leopard skin vagina condo with a sauna, swimming pool, and library where I can relax. Also near my mat are my tornado treat game and, finally, my never-ending snuffle mat, which will always have one more kibble, no matter how much I search.

           I spend most of my time in contact with one of my humans, but a few times a day, I need my space, and I get down, lie on the rug, and chew my bones and crinkle toys until I am ready to go back with my humans. This library lasts as much as fifteen minutes before I need to be in touch with my human again.

           While I didn’t spend much time there today, I am happy to know I have my own spot. It makes me feel important to have my own place.

           Even if I never use it.

          

          

Foley's Tales from Rainbow Bridge: Cinnamon

Dogs are people's constants. We are home more than 99 percent of the time. Parents take comfort in knowing that we are there when they get up in the morning, happy to see them. We are there when they are sick when they celebrate, and when they spend a day doing nothing (we are excellent company when you're doing nothing.) In a world where you can't count on anything, we can be counted on for everything.

         Then, some dogs are constants for all dogs.

         Cinnamon was one of those dogs.

         Since 2005, we could count on Cinnamon popping up in blogs and comments, always with something sweet.

         She was my only friend from Australia; he loved telling us about his native land. I wish I had visited him, especially when our winter was summer.

         She lived in the lower part of the world for 17 years and lived in the opposite time, too. Her day was our night, so there was only a tiny window of time to interact with her, and we took every chance we got.

         When something is there for 17 years, you start to take it for granted. Cinnamon survived illnesses and a vicious dog attack and came through shining. I was sure she would never join me at the Bridge.

         That is why, even at the grand age of 17, I was shocked when I read on my iPad that Cinnamon would soon arrive at the Bridge. As the years built up, his parents, one on the other, wondered if Cinnamon would keep on going against all odds.

         The odds may forget about us, but never for long, and, after 17 years and much too soon, Cinnamon, with the help of us parents, shrugged off her mortal coil for a new, shiny, moral one.

         Cinnamon had made so many friends in her time, many of whom were born and transitioned to the Bridge during his lifetime, that Hobo's Landing, where I swore in new angels, was packed.

         Cinnamon was sad leaving his parents, but she had given everything she had to the mortal side, and while she didn't like it, she accepted it was her time to be an angel and held her head up high as she crossed the Bridge, knowing she had lived life to the fullest.

         A hearty cheer exploded around me as Cinnamon approached. She took time greeting everyone with a smile and a lick because she knew the secret: kindness is always exemplary, and if we all lifted one another, no one would ever be down.

         We know she left a massive hole in her parent's heart. There is no pain like losing a beloved constant, especially after 17 years. But they will have a mighty angel and friends on their side because no one gets through it without them.

         There is a new bright star on the southern side, and it is called Cinnamon. 

 

         

Poetry Thursday

 

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

Lenny has saved all year for a vacation

Working every day cleaning the radio station

He had heard that Tahiti was the new sensation

And a week there would lift him up and be a salvation

 

He bored his coworkers with stories of Tahiti

And bluntly asked if a girl would come with “you’ll love it, sweetie.”

But he was shut down, and management entered into a treaty

Stop asking the girls or someone would beat he.

 

In August he left on his trip

It was his first time on a ship

He’d sit by the pool and to each girl he made a rude quip.

A slap in the face left him with a bloody lip.

 

A week later Lenny returned via plane

His head wrapped, a neck brace on, obviously in pain

His return to work was met with destain

But there were some who wanted him to explain.

 

“Did you leap off a cliff and land on a rock?”

“Did you get hit by a car when not using a crosswalk?”

“Did you get mugged, hit with quarters rolled into a sock?”

He informed them no, he never made his destination, having been assaulted after requesting a long-haired beauty stroke his cock.

 

The object of his affection was a cop from Spokane

Who had served in the mountains of Afghanistan

It dawned on Lenny that what he thought was a woman was a man

When the offended cop pile drove him into a Naugahyde divan.

 

Lenny, who missed his vacation and lost money, was asked if he had learned his lesson.

But he shocked them when he said it was a blessing.

Because the onboard nurse who helped him with his convulsing

They had fallen in love with him when changing his dressing

 

And that is how Lenny found love.

Finally, a woman who thought of him as something that didn’t need to be gotten rid of

She had killed her husband in the Spanish city called Ove.

She needed to change her ID and hide in America until the killing was no longer thought of.

 

Lenny did not care about her past

He knew he could make this love last

His plans to live the rest of  his life with her, he did broadcast

And she prayed that her time with this loser would go fast

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.

Monday Question

If your parents had to go away for a few days who would they trust to take care of you?

Ruby's answer:   Mommy would ask one of her granddaughters. Two of them are sistres, and have inherited Mommy's love of dogs. They are just starting out as adults, and are busy, they would ask their groomer.   

The Ruby Rose Report: Coats for Ferals

I was talking to Pablo, the feral cat who sleeps in our crawl space at night and leaves us half-digested mice as payment, about the recent cold, freezing rain, and snow snap we suffered through (me more than anyone, even though  I don't step outside during standard time, the snow covers my green grass and causes me unrest. Pablo asked if we could keep the heat a little higher at night, which I sadly told him was impossible since I live with vampires. I asked him if he had a jacket, and he said no, none of the ferals do.

Above all else, I am a charitable dog and always willing to devote my time (free/gratis) to a worthy cause. From my perch, I can see dogs walking down the roads, all wearing spiffy, warm coats. I realized that the ones wearing the coats, who live in warm houses, least need the coats. That is why I am starting my coats for ferals campaign.

The first step is for people who live in areas populated by ferals to buy coats.

Then, you wait for a feral to show itself. It is essential to follow the next steps precisely, and I have given you ways to tell if you have.

When you see the cat, approach it carefully and reach down to grab it. If it hisses at you and runs away, you have done it correctly.

Secondly, grab a net, and when the cat reappears, throw it on top of the cat, then wrestle it to free it from the net while attempting to put the coat on. If you have completed part two correctly, you should have (a) face, hands, and arms covered with scratches—a rip in your favorite jacket and a bare-ass cat.

Before attempting another try, see if you can repair the garment. If not, return it to the store and say it exploded in the car, and you are demanding a refund. You will get the money back if the associate registers are under 25.

Once you have acquired a new coat, hide in the bushes for the feral to go by, jump on it, grab it with two hands, and force the neck opening over the cat's head. You will not be able to tell you have done it correctly until you are in the ambulance, with an EMT keeping pressure on your jugular vein, and one of the medics says: "Don't that cat look sharp in his coat."

Foley's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: Teddy

 

Teddy, in his later years, quite late actually, since he stayed on the mortal side for 16 years, dreamed of his youth, when he could fly, or at least so it seemed. Teddy was a well-awarded agility dog who, for years, performed with his mom, happily jumping through hoops, between cones, over the see-saws, and through tunnels. It was, except for when he was getting attention from his family, the time he felt most alive.

         He had heard the term, once at the vet’s when a doctor was marveling over his age, that he was experiencing his golden years, but it sure didn’t feel that way. He felt tired and achy; there was nothing golden about that.e

         But he still got attention from his parents, and he felt like a pup again in those moments.

         Which is why he was in no hurry to leave. He had thought that, while his litter mates and equally aged friends had gone to the Bridge, he was still mortal, like someone who gets skipped over during a draft for no explicable reason. But Teddy didn’t bark a peep, happy to be, as he always is exceptional.

         But no mortal soul can hold off their final destination for so long. Teddy slowed down and was tired until his parents decided to remove their hearts, joy, contentment, and love. Sadly, Teddy went as well.

         Teddy moved like a senior dog when he slowly climbed out of the River of Life within wagging distance of Rainbow Bridge. He sighed, resigned that he was an orphan, although one with visiting privileges, at least in his parent's dreams.

         As  Teddy walked across all, the pain, rigidity, and stiffness were lifted from his body like a coat on a cold day. When he put his feet onto Doggyspace village, where all his friends and members of his pack, Ebbie and Moss, awaited, he felt young again.

         Slowly, at first, he began to run. He was unsteady at first, not trusting that the old body, which had started failing him long ago, was renewed, as were his lungs. For the first time in years, Teddy ran.

         As he did, he barked in joy. All aging athletes dream of one more day at the top of their game. Teddy wasn’t getting one more day. He was getting all the time in the world.

         For Teddy, there would be a time for reuniting with those who preceded him at the Bridge, for remembering and watching over his parents and his psycho brother Willie, for visiting them in dreams. As small flying creatures, but for now, Teddy was running again; his soul was singing a happy song.

         None of us minded. Watching Teddy run was like hearing an unfinished sympathy performed by a classical orchestra uninterested in finding the ending. It was simply beautiful.

        

 

Poetry Thursday

 

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

I was finally on vacation, a chance to be free

Spending a week with my wife at sea

Then there was an accident some called freak

I flew into a lady and hurt my beak

 

I have heard this happen before

Just at we begin to sour

To go to the bow and reenact a movie humans are enticed

To act out the final scene of the Last Temptatiion of Christ

 

It used to be people respected water

Before everyone human became a yachter

They used to leave the sea to birds and fish

The return of those days is what I wish

 

The lady said my injured beak was my fault

She asked if I had insurance because paying out of pocket she would not

“I don’t have insurance, I am just a bird,” I said

She said she would sue me and to bankruptcy I would be lead

 

I promised the family in court I would be defiant

And the wife said he who  represents themselves has a bird for a client

The plaintiff said I was flying erratically and drunk on seed

And she had witnesses who would say the same so I must concede

 

I had my own witness but the plaintiff’s attorney did balk

Since his testimony was squawk squawk squawk

The prejudiced judge was against me

I was afraid they would lock me up and throw away the key

 

I never thought my savioir would be the Captain

His testimony made the truth snap in

From the crows nest he looked down below

And the the woman and her men trying to do the Dicaprio

 

I was found not guilty by the judge

The plaintiff said some f words and none of them were fudge

And I flew out the window letting out a whoop

And dive bombed her car leaving a huge splat of poop

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Of course, my watermelons are fresh. Do you think a cat selling produce out of the trunk of his mom's car wouldn't have fresh fruit? And no credit cards, cash only, ya bastard.

Monday Question

 When did you begin posting (as a pet) on social media

Ruby's answer: Foley began in a site called Doggyspace in 2009, and blogging on her own in 2011

The Ruby Rose Report: Liberty Bibbity

 

 People know the name Pavlov, but forget the most important soul in his story, his dog Circa.

            The human side of the story is that Dr. Pavlov trained Circa by ringing a bell and then giving him a treat, until he didn’t and the mere sound of the bell caused Circa to salivate.

            Big whoop.

            But the real story is how Circa trained Pavlov to ring the bell when he wanted the treat, and, salivating, was his way of helping Pavlov become famous, and make more money, which meant better food for Circa.

            In dog Circa means: “He who rings the bell.”

            Since then, dogs have been one step ahead of their parents, using licks, looks, and love to get treats when we want them. We patted ourselves on the head, safe in the knowledge that simple minded humans are the ones who can be trained. We dogs are above it.

            We happily lived this way until the curse of Liberty Mutual.

            I don’t pay attention to whatever banal entertainment my parents watch on the TV. I might bark if a dog comes on the screen, just to be polite, but one day I heard the theme for Emu and Doug, stood up, and watched the bee boo, the most fascinating creature I had ever seen.

             The show is unpredictable. It just pops up in the middle of the other shows. At first I would stop what I was doing to see what they were up to, but one day, after a riveting episode where Limu drives off, I realized that I was no longer in control. Whenever I hear the Liberty Mutual theme I drop what I am doing, transfixed, and unable to turn away. I even watch the episodes that don’t feature Limu and Doug, but random characters standing in front of the Statue of Liberty doing nothing interesting.

            I don’t know who to talk to about my addiction, or what is the purpose, although it does make me want to adopt a large flightless bird.

            I lay up at night wonderingn if Doug is being replaced, how Limu will react, and if the stupid dog walking lady ever got her dogs back.

            I feel like Circa trained by that damn bell, but I don’t get food. And unlike Circa, I am not controlling when the Emu comes on. I am glad I don’t. I don’t think one person should wield that kind of power.  

            I hope I can overcome my obsession and can ignore the siren call of “Liberty, liberty, liberty” and escape this hellish cult before I stop eating to watch.

            Once that happens there is no hope.

 

           

 

Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Welcoming a Relunctant Jacques

 

Jacques didn’t want to go.

          As his heartbeats grew to a precious few, his lungs were failing, he was running out of steam, and his parents were making their final grim preparations, Jacque pled to the angels, including his sister, Princess, new to the Bridge, for what we all want at the end: One more day.

          Knowing her brother’s passing would destroy their mom Princess was tempted to grant his request, but knowing her proximity the situation may cloud her judgment she asked me for advice.

          I have received similar requests from Pocket and River Song. I wanted to grant them, but knew giving a soul one more means, after the sunrise, further requests for a single day.

          The Princess had to tell her brother not because it would only prolong everyone’s suffering.

          The next day their heartbroken mom took all of Jacque’s pain, his fear, his anger, his suffering, on herself, freeing him from his failing body and sending him to the River of Life.

          For all of Jacques’ suffering to truly be gone he had to, after climbing out of the river, Jacques needed to cross the Bridge to complete his transformation, like how you restart a computer to complete an update,

          When Jacques came out of the river he was still upset that he had to leave his beloved mortal life. All his friends were lined up across the water ready to give him a hero’s welcome. Jacques looked at us, then down the river, from whence he had come, unsure which way to go.   

It is forbidden for an angel to cross bridge. If we try, we end up right where we started. But there are exceptions to the rule. An angel can go back to bring a spirit to the immortal side and keep the spirit from walking the Earth as a ghost. Without having to ask, the Princess crossed to help Jaques.

We watched them, brother, and sister, walking then stopping, and talking on the other side of the river. We knew everything that Jaques said was true. It wasn’t fair, his mom needed him, she hadn’t healed from Princess’ passing, all true, and unpersuasive, because this was the deal we made when we were created. We would be one of the inside animals, we would get the best of everything, but not for long, in the blink of an eye, really, because we had to move along, so many dogs could experience the gift that is our parents.

Finally, Jacque and Princess crossed the Bridge, and all the e pain and worry washed away from Jacques. He had finally arrived at his forever home.

And, until it is his mother’s time to do the same, he will repay his mom by being a dear, loving angel, and she will never walk alone.

But his mom won’t see him, or the other dogs who are now angels, because that the price they had to pay for a long life.

I watched Jaques and Princess playing like puppies in the tall grass as the sunset.

I wished his mom could see it, and maybe she could, out of the corner of her eye. But the rational mind dismisses it, until the day we all walk on the other side of the Bridge and are truly live happier ever after.

         

Poetry Thursday

  

There was a prairie dog named Steve

Living in a hole he did not want to leave

He had found every type of meat he could conceive.

And knew leaving it untended would be naïve,

 

On New Year’s Eve he overly mixed Tanqueray and Wine

And was feeling mighty fine

He fell into a sleep sweetly divine

And that began our story line.

 

Steve looked forward to a breakfast of eggs and salami

Just the way it was made by his Mommy.

He woke up read to fill his belly.

When he saw the pantry was empty his anger washed over him like a tsunami.

 

It was time for Steve to play Sherlock Holmes

And go over his neighbors with a fine-tooth comb.

He had to be quick not wanting to miss a meal and suffer from Anorexia nervosa syndrome.

And once finding the salami heading back home

 

He knew the salami left with halitosis bad enough to make anyone near repent.

And by checking the other dogs ‘mouths he would find their content

When he saw Suzie he stuck his head in her mouth without consent

And soon found himself summoned to HR after being charged with sexual harassment.

 

Steve claimed innocence just wanting to see if in her mouth his salami would fit.

And everyone in the office shouted that they could not acquit.

Steve= was banished from the prairie and if he was told they would not re-admit

Before leaving he peed on their food supply and in the square he left a big shit

 

Now Steve the prairie dog walks the earth alone.

Just a dog, his salami, and a tiny chicken bone

But he liked being on his own.

He would rather have his salami than friends who moan and groan.

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

 “The bamboo shoots are soggy and the leaves crumpled. I demand to see the manager.”

Karen’s first day at zoo was a struggle for the staff 

Monday Question

 What's for dinner?

You don't have to say what brand name you used but what kind of food?

Kibble? Wet food;? Huamn food Frozen food? Topper? Is it prepared in a special way?

Ruby's answer is part kibble, part frozen food and part wet food. The wet food is slightly heated and there is a dash of water to make the kibble softer.

The Ruvy Rose Report: A Trip to Target

 

 

         I usually stretch out on the car's back seat while Mommy shops. Daddy, her driver, stays in the car with me. But, on the Saturday before Christmas, he needed to go shopping with Mommy. My parents debated what to do with me. Leaving me in the car was out of the question; I am too valuable for that. I thought I would be left behind when Daddy pulled River's backpack out of the closet.

         River had told me about it. She wasn't good about riding in the back seat like me, insisting she be upfront with her people, which is why on the rare occasion River went with my parents, she was stuffed in the cramped bag, a fate that awaited me if I elected to go with them.

         I voted yes.

         As Daddy drove, I wished I could stretch on in the seat. At the first stop, the bag with me inside was taken out of the car, placed in a shopping cart, and then wheeled into the busiest place on Earth, a department store, a week before Christmas.

         It was a brightly lit place where people desperately shopped for gifts, not in a "Christmas Carol" sort of way, but like a Mad Max Christmas. I knew I needed to protect my parents. I remembered River showing me how she used her thick head to burst through any cage or bag that held her.

         It may be a Griffon thing because I pressed my head on the opening until my head popped out like a Xenomorph. I was in the food section, and there was enough to feed the city. People were either quickly grabbing products like they were jumping on a fumble or studying identical items like they were in a spot in a different game. Were the robots unable to see anything but their target? Is there where the name came from?

         We walked by shampoos and deodorants, televisions and computers, dolls and games, a child smashing a toy gun on the round to free it from its packaging, and several prominent women in slippers and sweatpants, blocking the aisles, probably shopping for people who got bargain robots.

         Finally, we got in a slow-moving line, and then Mommy gave her the card to take the things without paying any money. Then we went out of the store. I was removed from the bag and carried out like a treasured purchase. The bag was thrown in the trunk, and I lay on the back seat, exhausted.

         I had enough of Christmas shopping.

         From now on, I will only buy things from the store on Amazon's banks.

 

        

Foley's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: Welcoming Wills

 

Birthdays don’t mean as much to dogs as they do those who mark them with cards, food, and presents. Some of us are lucky enough to get presents on our birthdays, and they are always appreciated, but we don’t like acknowledging them any more than a person in their 70s does because the odds of seeing the end of the following year rise with each birthday. No one wants to celebrate their “One year closer to the Bridge Day.”

But, sometimes, our birthdays give us something to be proud of, especially when we share a birthday with our parents as our friends.

Wills shared a birthday with his mom, which made him proud, and also brushed against the birth of a New Year. December 31. There was much to celebrate on the year’s last day in Wills’ pack. All he wanted for his birthday was to celebrate it with his mom.

Wills came from a large pack but was destined to be the leader from the day the previous head of the bag, Josie, picked him as her successor and taught him what he needed to be a good boss. Despite having three maniacal younger brothers, Josie was a strong leader, always setting a good example.

Wills helped his mom deal with her grief when one of his brothers, Elvis, left for the Bridge. His mom’s beautiful boy was showing signs of age. He had never had the most accessible life but fought and triumphed to stay with his mom, which he did every day, which he couldn’t any longer.

On the 15th, as she had done with Elvis weeks before, and still in grief over that, their mom took on Wills’ burden and took away his pain, making the selfless decision to send the soul who knew her best and always made her feel better, to the Bridge, to live without pain and worry.

But worry is a complex emotion to remove from a soul, as is sorrow, which Wills began to feel two weeks after his passing as the mutual birthday arrived.

         There was only one solution.

         Josie, Elvis, and the rest of the pack’s angels filled out all the paperwork and found an intelligent, wise, and charming judge who allowed Wills and his mom one more night to have one more birthday together.

It was a lavish party, and no one had a better time than their Mommy. She is lucky to be a New Year’s Eve baby because it is one of the most magical nights of the year. Wills was equally pleased, enjoying what we all wanted on more days.

Sadly, humans are not allowed to remember their dream visits. On the few times they do, their medication is adjusted so it doesn’t happen again. But, hopefully, she felt, if one for a few hours, a lighter heart.

If you are human and wish to go to your dog’s birthday party at the Bridge, let me ask you this: How do you know you haven’t?

 

Poetry Thursday

                       

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

Timmy’s family moved from the south in May.

From Timmy’s friends they went away

His parents told him it would be okay.

But Minnesota didn’t seem like a place he wanted to stay

 

To him St Paul would never be his home.

The entire state was monochrome.

He wished to say to his old home shalom.

And leave the state where the buffalo used to roam.

 

He had trouble making friends.

Which meant at his birthday party no one did attend,

They weren’t like his old friends on who he could depend.

The truth was he didn’t like them, and too often did offend.

 

Then the air turned cold

He hated his new city sevenfold

He was sad and could not be consoled.

And he decided to run away, a move quite bold

 

As he ran away from home he felt something wet and cold on his face

It was a snowflake, seemingly from outer space

He opened his mouth for a taste

And when he felt it on his tongue he found what a magical about this place

 

From that day on Timmy was happy to be in land of snow

And happily with a smile, and many friends he did go

Because snowflakes are magic, in case you didn’t know

A single taste sets your heart a glow

.