Friday Fill-Ins

 

Finally the Ruby has come back to Fill in the Blanks. My statements are in red. 

1. I hope my Easter basket has abortion pills (because people will pay big money for them if they become illegalin it.

2. March has been like sitting in the back seat of your parents' car stuck in a traffic jam,in your wet swim suit wrapped in a damp towel when the air conditioner cranked up to high. Cold, wet,snd going nowhere.

 

3. If there ever was a time to move to a small Canadian fishing villiage bordering the Northwear passage with three house of daylight a day, it’s now.   

4. I have built a bomb shelter under the house in preparation for the Presidential election, and that is only for if a candidate I support wins. 

Poetry Thursday

   

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

Here is this week's entry and my poem.

All day Tommy and Suzie could play with his toys

And no one mattered if they made noise

They could scream until they were out of breath

Because theit parents were hooked on Crystal Meth

The kids did what he wanted all day

Their comatose dad had nothing to say

And his wife’s mother skills were south of Lady MaBeth

She has a monkey on her back called Crystal meth

Tommy was not going to school

And the district didn’t want 11 years hence to graduate another fool

They arranged a home visit

And found the parents unconscious on the couch surrounded by paraphernalia society did prohibit

Their parents vowed to get clean

After their friends did intervene 

There would be less drugs and more hugs

And the house be free of drug dealing thugs.

The kids were placed with their sweet grand mom

Who was only addiction was Big Red cinnamon gum

But if there was a difference the kids were not aware

Because right after supper grandmom was asleep in her chair

In six weeks the parents completed rehabilitation 

And vowed to provide the kids the foundation for a good education 

The kids were back home where there were now strict rules

No playing inside or out until they completed all the work assigned by the school

After a year a party was held to recognize their achievement

But to Tommy it was a time of bereavement 

And he took a moment and to the crowd did vent his spleen 

Saying like was more fun when his parents were hooked on Methamphetamines

Wordless Wednesday

 

Monday Question

 Do you eat all your food everytime it is put down in front of you or do you leave a little behind?

Do you skip meals?

I have been known to leave some food on the plate for the kitchen staff.

I rarely miss a meal.

The Ruby Rose Report: Old Dogs, No Tricks

 

Mortal humans aren't aware, but all species have Presidents who meet in the dream world to settle problems between animals.

Charles has been dog President for ten years since he was four years old. He has done a great job. He is kind and wise and puts the well-being of all dogs first. However, the rules say that a president needs to be mortal, and Charles got sick and stepped down before going to the Bridge.

It has been so long since we have had an election, and all the good candidates have also gone to the Bridge. There are only two members of Charles' cabinet still on the mortal side: Hunter, a German Shephard, and Koltsov, a French Bulldog.

Hunter is 17, and Koltsov is 18. Foley visited me in my dreams, concerned that the two candidates' combined age is human years older than their country's. She asked me to vet the two candidates. I was honored.

I first met with Hunter, who began by telling me his plans to improve the lives of all dogs. I got to the point and asked if he thought his age hindered his candidacy.

"Of course not," Hunter said, then peed on the floor.

I tried not to act surprised and inquired why he made his water on the shag rug.

"Darndest thing, been doing it for a year now, my Mom doesn't complain." I said that was good, and he added, "She's just happy when I don't shit in the bed while she is sleeping." He began to swat in front of his face. "I could answer your questions a lot better if it wasn't for these damn bats."

I realized that our society would be destroyed if Hunter, who has a record of bitiing his guards, our leader.

At least we had another viable candidate. I went to see Kolstov, who, when I introduced myself, immediately began ranting about his being thrown out of the Daisy Meadows kennel for attacking other dogs.

"Those dogs were some real sickos," he said. "They weren't the best dogs. They had rabies, they had fleas, some of them, I suppose, were good boys. We are going to build a wall around the kennel and the cats are going to pay for it." He then rambled incoherently for 20 minutes.

I told Foley that neither candidate was impaired nor qualified to be our leader. She said it was too late to change candidates. For worse or worse, we were stuck with them.

Except for dark dog candidate Rib-Eye, who runs on a no rabies vaccine platform.

We are all screwed.

 

                       

Tales From Rainbow Bridge: Chief

 

 

Somewhere. Long forgotten in this story, was a person deciding where to hold an event, one of the hundreds of decisions they made to little effect, or so they thought. But the person, more than a decade ago, who scheduled a Petco conference in Boston changed the lives of several souls and ultimately brought about a group more substantial than a family, a pack.

At that time, the group that brought many of us together, Doggyspace, was bright new, and everyone got along before the things that divide humans crept into it.

When she learned her company conference would be in Boston, Miss Kate, on the other side of the country, had her dog Shiloh ask his friend Pokey, who lived in a suburb north of Boston, if his mom Miss Laure would like a visit from Miss Kate. Miss Laura said yes, more excited than Pokey.

As close as Miss Kate and Miss Laura were online, they became a thousand times closer in person. Miss Laura had found the daughter she had never had.

Miss Laura had given so much of her heart to her dogs and the rescues she would transport to their new homes on weekends that she ran out of them prematurely, leaving her beloved animals, Pokey, Maggie, and Toby behind. There was only one soul she trusted with those closest to her.

Miss Kate had recently lost her beloved Shiloh and was down to one pet, her regal cat Chief, who little knew what the future had in mind for him.

Because Miss Linda’s dogs were being transported to the new home from across the country.

Chief took his new life in style. He had loved Shiloh and knew no one dog could replace her, but three well-loved seniors could do the trick.

Toby went to join his mom first, then Pokey followed, leaving just Chief and the resilient Maggie. When the bridge angels came calling, it was thought they would come for a while, but they were unpredictable, and while both were struggling medically, Chief transitioned to the bridge.

          He was greeted by the humans who preceded him to the Bridge, then knocked on his back by Shiloh, who gave her brother 1,000 kisses. Behind him was Miss Laura, Pokey, and Toby, who now lived together at a mansion on the river.

          Miss Laura picked Chief up and gave her a soft scratch. “Your mom took my angels in when I came here, and I promised to give you a home, and love while you are here, you will never want for love.” Then, Chief followed Miss Laura and her old and new siblings to a home.

          They were not a family, not blood-related; they were something stronger than that.

          They were a pack, inseparable from now until the end of time and beyond.

Poetry Thursday

 

 

 Angel Sammys and Teddy have provided for us a new picture to inspire the poet inside of us all.

Here is today's picture and poem

 

 

From the first day Sally arrived home

Her sister Susie let her feeling be known

There was something in the house they would best be rid

Because Susie hated the new freaking kid

 

“Make it go away,” she begged

She had this rotten baby pegged

She went on the Internet and began to take out bids

For someone who eliminated unwanted kids

 

She put X-Lax in her formula

Causing indigestion that sounded like a chamber ochresta

“You’ll never clean those marks of skid,”

Susie said about that poop covered kid.

 

Susie painted Sally’s face black.

And reported her sister had some kind of attack

Whatever she had could not be undid

They would catch the disease from this rotten kid

 

Susie put needles in Sally’s bassinette

And her parents did not sleep, not even a minute

“The baby is possessed,” Susie said knowing her parents weren’t aware of what she did.

In her efforts to rid the world of that rotten kid.

 

She snuck the baby out of the house putting it under a sign that read “free to a good home.

As long as you don’t mind a little down’s syndrome”

Her dad found her before she was taken by a couple living south of Madrid.

A city that was no place to raise a kid.

 

That night their parents sat up in bed

Realizing what had gone unsaid

Since Sally came home Susie had flipped her lid

And she was truly one rotten kid

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

Geez mom, at this point I think what happened to the fish is the least of our problems 

Monday Question

 Have your parents bought anything for you for anxiety?

Not me, but my parents tried pills and thunder shirts for Pocket and River with little success.

The Ruby Rose Report: What Happened Next Door

 

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. I was watching Oppenheimer with my parents and thinking of my 131^st great-grandfather Oliver, who lived in Belgium during the war and originated the famous Griffy scowl by frowning at the Nazis as they marched around town. I don’t have a resting bitch face; I have a resting bitch stop goose-stepping on the grass, you Nazi bastard face.

I am always alert, and when I heard doors shut, I jumped down and ran to the window.

I saw policemen with guns drawn creeping past the house. They were headed towards our next-door neighbor, who has been rumored to be something nefarious; I don’t believe it. They have an old car and the worst lawn in the development. If they are criminals, they need to go back to robbing school because they suck at it.

I could tell the police did not want to alert the suspects that they were approaching. The lead detective put his hand on the doorknob. Everyone held their breath.

Then I began to cry loudly.

The police kicked in the door and told everyone in the house to get on the ground.

I stayed watching it like it was an HBO show outside my window.

I saw a suspect running out the back door, and I barked louder. I owed it to the police for tipping their play.

They caught the man in his backyard. “I would have got away if it wasn’t for that stupid barking dog,” he said while walking to the waiting squad car.

He was told my barking had given him a chance to run.

At least being vocal had supported both sides. Foley would be proud.

Even after the suspect was apprehended, I attempted to help the police by barking at them where to search, but they don’t listen to non-commissioned dogs.

My parents kept telling me to get away from the windows and be quiet while they looked out the windows and loudly spoke about what they saw. Finally, it was over, and the cops left. I stood at the window, barking thank you and goodbye.

I think I may have a future as a law enforcement dog or at least as a warning animal for some high-level criminals who can afford a Farmer’s Dog subscription.

My only regret

I missed the end of Oppenheimer.

I will never know how the war ended

 

 

 

 

Foley's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: One Last Time with Nellie

 

Nellie and her mom sat on the couch after church, as they had hundreds of times before, but today was different. It was the last time.

The week before Nellie had taken ill. She had trouble peeing. When this occurs a parent’s mind goes to the simplest solution, an easily treated bladder infection.

But, when the diagnosis was made, it was both the furthest thing from Momma Lea’s mind, and the one she feared the most: Bladder cancer.

At Nellie’s age there was no treatment, and, since humans are more humane with dogs than they are to themselves, arrangements were made for the one who would guide Nellie to the Bridge would do so from her living room, so she could peacefully slip away next to her mom.     

Nellis lay next to her mom, softly snoring, at peace, knowing her job on the mortal side was done, and she had done it perfectly. Her mom was anxious, listening to her, each breath sounding like the click of a minute hand counting down to permanent midnight.

When humans begin school, the first thing teachers do, unintentionally, is rob children of their ability to see magic. Being an adult human is hard, and there is no room for magic. When it happens, the human mind lies to the soul, telling it a logical fib wiping the magic away.

Momma Lea will tell you a vet came to her home, gave Nellie the final shot, and let her slip away to the Bridge.

It was the lie her brain told head.

It is sad, because what happened was so much more comforting.

Momma Lea fell asleep next to Nellie. When she was stirred awake she had dogs on either side of her. Sandy, her heart dog, had returned to help Nellie transition to the Immortal side.

Nellie sat on her mom’s lap and gave her a thousand kisses, then revealed the truth, which one does at the end, and spoke to Momma Lea, thanking her for everything she did, for being the best mom she could hope for, and for making every day of her life an indescribable pleasure. Momma Lea told Nellie that she had been a fantastic child, and Lea had no idea how she would go on, but vowed she would, for the sake of her angels.                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Sandy sat in her mom’s lap again. He fit perfectly. There were kisses, tears, and words of love that reached across the River of Life to fill her heart in a way it hadn’t been since Sandy had last patted around their Kentucky home.

Then came the final but not permanent goodbye which I cannot recount here because it was too powerful for any language except the forgotten Elven.

Then, paw and paw, Nellie followed Sandy’s steps to the Bridge, where she was met with so much love it blew her ears back.

As that happened Lea’s mind told her a lie, that the vet who helped her baby would go to her true forever home.

The entire incident was wiped away, except in dreams, and a nugget of what happened that stayed with Lea.

That, at the end of this hard life, is a place where all the love she had given she will get back the day she passes.

It is in Sandy, Nellie, and others she had lost.

The brain allows that secret, and the beauty awaiting all humans at the end of their journey.

It is the only thing that can keep a human moving forward in this wicked world.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Poetry Thursday

 

 Angel Sammys and Teddy have provided for us a new picture to inspire the poet inside of us all.

Here is today's picture and poem 

 

Wherever he went men trembled in fear.

The meanest son-of-a-bitch in this hemisphere.

Whatever he saw he did maliciously destroy

He is the outlaw Baby Boy

 

He was so mean be made men quake

Especially if it was an hour past his bedtime and he was still awake

Some of the world’s most dangerous criminals he did employ

He is the outlaw Baby Boy.

 

Townsfolk knew there was only one way to be safer

To stock up on his teething wafer

If not no one cold imagine the suffering that would be

When they faced the wrath of the outlaw Baby Boy

 

He struck with the venom of a viper.

Especially if he had a long-filled diaper.

And if he had partaken of too much Rob Roy

There was no calming the outlaw Baby Boy.

 

The air was filled with young girls squeals

When he rode in on a bike with three wheels

He had a girl in every state from Maine to Illinois

All wanting the title Mrs. Outlaw Baby Boy

 

He was responsible for many a crime wave

And he had lowered his enemies in his grave

The police would be fill with joy

If they could catch the Outlaw Baby Boy.

 

They had no clue what he would do

When he turned the age of two

And became an ambulatory.

Outlaw Baby Boy

 

The best advice given to the village folks

Was to listen for the sound of baseball cards in spokes

 And hope when you search the house you don’t’ find playing with a toy

The Outlaw Baby Boy

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

 

I know you say I am the father but frankly I don't see it.

Monday Question

 Have your parents ever made a mistake with a pet that they regret?

A few ago, Pocket had some butt problems that they thought were an impacted anal gland. It got drained, but Pocket kept licking it, so they put pants on it so she couldn't. They checked it a couple of days later, and it was worse. It was an allergy, terrible itching, and po. Poor couldn't get it. She got medication, and it cleared up, but my parents still feel guilty

The Ruby Rose Report: The Great Grape Flood

 

 I was chewing a marrow bone on my blanket when the incident occurred.

It was a typical Friday night at our house. Mommy was making supper, Daddy was due home from work, and neither knew what would happen.

There was a massive explosion in the kitchen.

Mommy began to use words so bad that they were banned on HBO.

I left my blanket and trotted into the kitchen. It looked like an Ooopa Lompa convention had been slaughtered by an exasperated, nearly bankrupt Slugworth. Grape juice was everywhere, and on the sloped section of the floor, it was rushing toward the oven like the Johnstown Flood.

“Don’t step in it!” Mommy warned me, which I wasn’t planning on doing. I didn’t want Evil Grimace juice on my paws.

“Daddy didn’t put the cap on tightly,” Mommy said. I never thought of him as an accomplished man, but if my Dad can knock grape juice off a shelf, then kudos.

“Momma!’ I barked. “You need to the big roll of Bounty before the purple river gets under the stove. Uh-oh, never mind.”

My Mom is not like those people in the Bounty Commercials who can wipe up a spill because they hide a roll up their ass. Unfortunately, my Mommy doesn’t have room up there for towels, so she keeps them on the counter, and by the time she got to the disaster area, a small Korean fishing village had sprung up around them.

Mommy must have decided and tried to change the juice into wine because she said a mixture of Bible words, HBO words, and speaking in tongues. The grape juice river kept rolling along.

Mommy has arthritis and walks with a visible limp, but Lord, you should see her move when there is a spill on the floor.

She came out firing, with a spray bottle in one hand, a mop in the other, and holding an unopened paper towel roll in her mouth like a hand grenade about to be thrown.

She got down and worked like the pit crew at Daytona in the last lap of the 500. She kept telling me to stay, which was not a problem because I was not going to try to breach the Big Grape River.

She got done and told me not to mention the spillage to Daddy. I didn’t: Not when he got home, not when he gave Mommy a peck on the lips, and not when, after that, he gave me lots of attention because that’s how we roll in my forever home.

Then Daddy noticed more of the juice was gone.

I leaped into my kitty condo before my Mom took the grenade out.

Foley's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: The Case of the Baconless Beggin Strips

 

As the world’s foremost dog attorney, I have represented many lawsuits brought by puppy plaintiffs. Madison v Marmaduke, Snoopy v the Red Baron Pizza, and Ark Animals v Noah were filed the day after their journey ended by two beagles on board because they had reserved an upper berth and got stuck below the elephants.

Last week, I was sniffing through some potential lawsuits when I found a defendant so heinous that, if it became public, he would mediately pass the prehistoric guy with a knife who said, “I can make their dogs stop reproducing” as the greatest villain in all of dogdom.

The case was brought against the maker of Beggin Strips because there is no bacon in Beggin’ Strips.

What is the literal duck? Because of Purina, generations of dogs thought bacon tasted like the Toppe’s Baseball card under the gum, which you eat when you’re not paying attention.

I asked Pocket to research what Beggin’ Strips are made of and report back to me. She went under the sink, got a bag, and read the ingredients.

The first one was Ground Wheat. I don’t like Ground Wheat. I prefer Air Wheat. I like the logo: A loaf of bed dunking a ball.

Then, there was a corn gluten meal. I am not sure what that is. I think it’s something corn upchucks when getting shucked aggressively.

I can’t believe I spent most of my mortal time begging for wheat and corn gluten; that would be the second part of my lawsuit, wasting my time and energy on corn gluten.

The rest of the ingredients were equally as uninspiring and included Glycerin, which, if I mixed it with Nitro, would give me something to throw at this mischievous Purina bastard.

Full of self-righteousness and indignation, I filed my case in dream court, charging the defendant with bacon fraud, the worst kind of fraud, at least concerning swine.

It was the most significant case since Oscar Meyer vs. the Wiener Brothers.

When it was time for my opening, I laid forth our case that we, as a species, had been conned by those whom we trust second only to our parents: Our food maker.
They were clever, putting in a touch of bacon fat and artificial smoke flavor caused by working on the ensemble line, all smoking blunts to help them get through their soul-sucking shifts.

The judges did not have to hear any longer.

I had won.

But despite being self-satisfied with my presentation, it was a dream come true, and the bigger the company, the less they had to pay.
Justice only takes place in the dream world.
It is why I am there every night.

Poetry Thursdsy

 

fAngel Sammys and Teddys Pawetaton has provided the pictute below for this week's inspiration. 

Lower taxes he did promise.

His words were meant to calm us

I hate to be a doubting Thomas

But I think our new Senator did con us.

 

He said he would repeal Obama Care

And in his first day he ran through the Russell Building in his underwaare

That made me think I should beware

Especially when he wore tissue boxes as footware.

 

He kept his promises, like the one about a chicken in every pot

But they were alive and had pooped in the pot a lot.

He said we would own our own yacht

But his behaviior made all promises for naught.

 

As soon as he took office he ravaged the country’s funds.

He caused massive inflation, and sold our enemies guns.

He got the secretary of state pregnant and flashed her grandson.

It is a mystery why he caused the fleeing of the holy nuns.

 

He put the country on the path to war

By ordering Canada invaded by the marine corps

And in an effort to show strentgth to those he did abhor

He meant to take out China and blew up Singapore

 

He pulled out, leading to the dissolution, of NATO

He appointed an interim ttorney General named Kalen Kato

He put all his ideas in a manifesto.

And labled all those against him a RHINO.

 

His constintutes he didn’t respect

And his needs he did neglect

And maybe in time we will reflect

On why we are working so hard to reelect

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Althou

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat Thie Caption

Can I have a pile of rotting garbage sevbed in the middle of the street3 please? Oh, and a Diet Coke

Monday Question

Have you ever had a four legged guest stay at your house and if so how did you react?

I haven't had a guest over, but my Big Little Angels did, and they welcomed our cousin Neely on several occassions.

I don't think I would be as welcoming.

I deserve all the attention. 

 

The Ruby Rose Report: The Prescription Dog Food Battle

 

My friend Perry had a case of itchies. While most dogs hate going to the vet, he welcomed it. He would have put up with anything not to spend all night scratching. He got his diagnosis: he had a food allergy. The vet wrote him a prescription for a bag of food so expensive you needed a doctor’s note to show you had a reason for buying it and weren’t out of their minds,

The food was so expensive that his mom could not afford another baby when the last few kibbles were shaken from the bag; Poor Perry would never have a scratch-free night.

I read all this in my yard, where Perry had left his sad pee-mail. Not a fan of open urination, I left roll mail telling him to listen for tapping on his screen in the middle of the night. I knew where we could get cheap prescription food.

I snuck out of my house and ran to Perry’s. He came out quickly, and I told him to follow me. When he saw where we were going, he stopped, afraid. I told him not to worry. The project we were entering is where my prescription dog food connects.

A Doberman stood on the street corner under a broken light. “Got your Royal Canin digestive formular here, fix up your bowels Got Pro Plan kidney formula, get you peeing straight.”

I told Perry to follow me. I slowly approached. “Hey, Griffie what you need? Fiber care? You all blocked up? Got what you need. Got light formula. You’re looking a little chunky. I could hook you up.”

I told the Doberman, Lou, what Perry needed, and Lou told him he could hook him up. A chihuahua pushed a wagon with the bag in it. I told Perry to pay Lo when suddenly the sidewalk lit up, and the police told us to get on the ground.

I told Perry to get in the wagon and push it behind a building. There was a hole in the fence. We fit through, but the bag got stuck. The dog catchers were closing on us, but Perry needed his fix. He pulled the bag through, and we disappeared into the woods. A short time later, we were both home.

I read on the news that the dog police picked up Lou that night. But it wouldn’t matter; someone else would be on the corner tonight selling that good prescription food.

And like humans, telling a dog just to say no doesn’t work.l

Especially one with the itches

Foley''a Tails From Raiinbow Bridge

I went to visit Ruby in her dreams this week. River is her familiar, the angel who spends the most time with a mortal. But I, being Mommy’s [s heartiest of her heart dogs, check in now and then to make sure all of my mom’s needs were being met.

Ruby is doing an excellent job, but there is one small thing. When her demands for a scratch are met, she leaves behind a fluffy pile of fur. My parents have to use the wand to clean up after her. (It is not a real wand. I found that out the hard way when I tried to turn Pocket into a duck.)

“I shed because I have fur, like real dogs do,” Ruby rudely remarked.

I was taken aback. I did not know my newest sister was an anti-hairline. Offended, I asked her what she meant.

“How would a dog with hair survive in the wild?” she asked. “While dogs with fur are hunting, gathering, and protecting you will have hair in your eyes and unable to do anything until a human gives you a haircut.­”

Wounded, I was afraid she might be right, so I set out to prove that an ungroomed dog with hair can survive independently.

I did an I Paw search for dogs with long hair in the wild, and it brought me to a story that proved that a dog with hair does need some human help, but we provide enormous inspiration.

When the Animals Friends Connection Humane Society was informed that two dogs were not cared for in a yard, they sprang into action.

But they only found one dog and what looked like a pile of hair that a Fulminator had created.

Then the pile moved.

Tony, the name bequeathed on the pile of hair, was the most matted and overgrown dog they had ever seen. The rescuers scurried Tony off the seat and got him to the groomers. The technicians were worried they would be hit, unsure of which end they were dealing with, but when they found a wagging tail, they knew they were safe.

Tony had 14 pounds of hair removed. Soon, he looked like an adorable little dog who was quickly adopted.

My lesson from this? While long hair can hinder a dog, it also gives us instant camouflage, allowingow us to sneak up on our enemies.

I would rather be a long-haired spy than a furry food soldier.

This is why long-haired dogs rule,