Pocket Dog / Alpha Dog? by River Song

The darndest things happen when you’re not paying attention.

Just short of two years ago I strolled into my new home.  I was immediately loved by my Mommy and Daddy and could do no wrong.  There was also another dog here:  Pocket.  She was five years old and had spent years happily living as Beta dog to the ultimate Alpha dog:   Foley Monster.

I found Pocket to be a very nervous dog.  She was still affected from losing Foley.  I am not proud of myself but I used these two factors, plus my own experience of being in  house full of dogs in Florida, to immediately take over as the Alpha dog.  Given my height and weight advantage, and Pocket being timid, I had little worry that I would lose my position.

Pocket never showed any interest in being the Alpha dog.  When she was sitting on Mommy’s lap and I wanted to sit there I would stare at her until she moved.  If she infringed on my territory I would knock her over and snap at her throat.  

Occasionally, when I was being picked up and helpless Pocket would make a move against me, snapping from below, but outside of that she did little to try and usurp my authority.

But lately Pocket has been giving off a vibe.  We will be eating and I will hear her voice in my head, first whispering at me to stop eating while she was eating, then talking louder, and finally shouting at me until I stop eating.  When I do I look over at Pocket and she is quietly eating.

After our walks, when we go in the house, I hear Pocket’s voice saying “Me first,” and I let her go.  The same thing happens with the water dish.  To the rest of the world she is still meek little Pocket but all the time I thought she was napping she was mastering mind control and she has used it to usurp me.

Now, when we eat sometimes I eat my food right away, and sometimes, just before we eat, I get a look from Pocket and I won’t eat until she is done no matter how much my parents encourage me.  When Pocket is taken outside to do her business I eat.  

I don’t know how, might be some Yorkie voodoo, but Pocket is in my head, and has taken over the role as Alpha Dog.  

I think I am going to need therapy to get on top again.

1,000 Blogs by Pocket Dog

Six years ago, on May 9th to be exact, after being blocked from DS, and having lost all the blogs we wrote on that site, an angry and determined Foley Monster decided to start her own blog:  One where she could bark whatever was on her mind and fight for the rights of dogs everywhere.  She named it the Foley Monster and Pocket blog.

I was touched that my sister included my name in the blog title.  I thought it was honorary until I learned she expected me to provide content.  For Foley writing was easy.  She could spin a tail, turn an everyday occurrence into an epic story and write loving tributes to our friends.  Foley took blogging very seriously. As for me I was more interested in a warm bed, some tasty kibble and a lap of kindness.  But when Foley told me to step up and blog I did it.  Making her angry is never a recommended option.  

Over the years we started our Pup of the Week blog on Sunday, Wordless Wednesday, Ask Aunt Foley, on Fridays, and thanks to Kol’s Notes  (http://kolchakpuggle.com/) Mom Jodi Chick we updated our web page design and changed the name to Small Tales.

Then two years ago next week Foley accepted a position as a judge at Rainbow Bridge and she left us.  I did not know what would happen to the blog.  I certainly could not take it over full time, I had neither her talent or her drive.  But Foley would not let something like moving to the immortal side of the River of Life keep her from blogging.  She now reports from her post at the top of the lift leading to Rainbow Bridge, assuring parents that their beloved pets have arrived, and how they are coping with their new immortal life.

And now we have my younger sister River Song blogging with us..  I think my blogs, which are sweet and innocent are more of a draw than River’s, who is always bitchy and complaining, but I must admit whenever we put a glaring picture of River on the blog we always get more hits.

Last year we published Small Tales, The Adventures of Two Tiny Terrierists, our first blog collection, and Foley is currently editing “Tails From Rainbow Bridge” a collection of blogs she has written about friends who have crossed the River of Life.

Last month we wrote our one thousandth blog.  The blog has changed a lot over time.  When Foley was with us there were wild balloon rides, White House visits, and raids on castles.  River and I have settled into a quieter lives with less fanciful adventures, although Foley assures us that River is growing into a dog who is capable of disastrous decisions that could lead to fun and mayhem.  Regardless Foley always has been and always will be our main voice..

Thank you for sticking with us through 1,000 blogs.  I think about 260 of them were pretty good.  Not a great batting average but the pictures have always been cute.  We love nothing better than to comfort parents who are sad and to gives smiles here and there.

Hopefully we will give you reason to stick with us over the next 1,000 blogs.

http://www.amazon.com/Small-Tales-Adventures-Tiny-Terriers/dp/1500982326/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1429896097&sr=8-3&keywords=small+tales+the+adventures

A Crappy Weekend By Pocket Dog

How was your weekend?  Mine was pretty crappy, most of it coming out of my butt.  And it was crappy for Mommy and Daddy who became very worried about what was coming out of my butt.  Heck it was even crappy for River who, for the first time in her life was thrust into the role of caring sister, and did a good job.

As many of you know, I am a very nervous dog.  When I get nervous things in my lower end turn to liquid, and when it does I become like a leaky faucet, if your faucet was hooked up to the sewer line.  

Last Wednesday Mommy and Daddy rearranged the living room so their chairs were closer together and Mommy was facing the TV without having to turn her cranky neck.   There was some, what I would term tension between Mommy and Daddy over cleaning the floors, and that tension turned my bottom end innards to water.  This lasted a couple of days.

On Sunday Mommy turned on the stove to make Daddy breakfast.  I hate the stove.  It’s electric and it beeps.  Last year one of our smoke alarms began beeping and I didn’t react well at all.  Ever since then I have been very sensitive to beeping sounds.  On Sunday the stove beeping sent me over the edge turning everything in my body to liquid.

It started out as my normal nervous diarrhea but my system was so sensitive that everything in me wanted to come out.  Then something happened that scared my Mom very much.  I was straining so hard that cherry red blood started to drip out of me.  It felt like my entire insides was throbbing.  Mommy and Daddy googled what to do and saw:  PANIC! so they did.

They called the emergency vet who told them to keep an eye on me, that I wasn’t in any imminent danger, and to take me to my usual vet in the morning.   I still had the runs at night, but the blood stopped.  And it is here that I have to give a shout out to my sister.  At 2:30 AM I woke up and had to poo.  I got out of bed, went to the pee pads, and left a poo puddle.  I am too small to jump into bed so all I could do was just sit on the floor and look sad.  River saw me, woke Daddy up, and he picked me up and brought me back to bed.  So thank you River, that was very sweet of you

In the morning we were off to the vet first thing.  I wasn’t crazy about this because I got my appetite back but I knew it would make Mommy and Daddy feel better if I went to the vet.  I soon regretted it.  I got a thermostat up the butt and had a slight fever.  Then the vet took me away and stuck a needle in me for blood.  Finally the vet gave me a shot to make me feel better and told my nervous parents she would call the next day with the lab results.

When I got home I still had the runs, leaving a big puddle behind Mommy’s recliner.  I had another little puddle shortly after that, and since then my system has been down which I am told is a good thing.

This morning the vet called to say my bloodwork came back normal and she thinks I suffer from stress colitis.  With medication I should be back to my normal self in a few days.  Mommy and Daddy are not going to give me any mediation for my nervous condition but try to treat it naturally by keeping me out of stressful situations, thunder shirt, and some natural remedies..  So dinner time means walks time (or a drive if it’s raining.)

Thank you to all the Facebook Moms who helped our Mom through Sunday and Monday with great advice and to our DS and TB friends for their many prayers.

I love you all and I am dedicating my first firm stool to all of you.

Love you and thank you.

The Trials and Tribulations of Pocket Dog

There are all sorts of dog training classes out there, it is very confusing, but no matter how hard I look I can’t find the classes I really need:  How to be the Pack Leader for me and How to be a Follower for River.

After Foley passed over the River of Life to the Bridge I had three weeks alone, and I was an excellent Pack Leader during that time.  Then River came to live with us.  And she doesn’t get the “Pack Leader” idea at all.  So I have done my best to physically assert myself as the leader but I usually end up on my back with River’s teeth on my throat.

Foley comes down and tells me that if I am going to a pack leader I have to stop letting everything scare the bejesbers out of me.  Honestly, having Foley come down and suddenly appear next to me scares the bejesbers out of me.

I can’t help it.  I am a dog who worries about things.  Like that thing that lives in our balls.

Daddy came home with these two balls that were big and had holes in them.  He cut some of the rubber around the holes so we could stick our face in them.  He then put these things called Whimzees in them.  Then he rolled them across the floor.  River took to hers right away.  Sticking her face in the ball to bite at the Whimzee, walking around the house with her face stuck in the ball, and generally enjoying herself.

I went over and pawed at the ball.  It rolled as the thing inside moved.   By itself!  The only things that move by themselves are alive and most things that are alive are sneaky and going to bite me.  When I saw the thing in the ball move I knew it wouldn’t be long before it got out of that ball and attacked me so I went under the kitchen table and trembled.

Daddy picked me up and put me in his chair and patted me.  I anxiously watched the ball roll back and forth and River snap at it.  I shook.  Daddy passed me to Mommy who told me it was just a toy and that I had nothing to be afraid of.  

Which is what Foley had told me.  So I am trying very hard to be less afraid of things.

I wish there was a class for that.

But if there was I would be too afraid to go.

Not Sure I am Ready For This by Pocket Dog

Hello my sweet friends, it is I, Pocket Dog.  Oh boy.  Can I confide something in you guys?  I’m not sure I am ready for this.

Foley used to tell me that she would be going to the Bridge someday, but I never really believed her.  Foley?  Going to the Bridge?  Didn’t seem possible to me.  She was here bossing me around on my Gotcha Day and I thought she’d be here bossing me around on my Bridge Day,

Even when she told me she was sick and didn’t know if her song was ending I thought it was a trick.  I figured that she would wait for me to make a mistake then come walking in the door and say “ah-hah I told you that you couldn’t manage things!”  She can still do this, but only from the Bridge when I am asleep, so I have been trying not to go to sleep and man am I tired.

When I do sleep she visits me and mostly she tells me I’m doing a good job.  I certainly am trying.  I don’t want to be any trouble for Mommy and Daddy.  I am keeping with my housebreaking and eating all my food.  I can sense when Mommy and Daddy are feeling badly so I make sure I come over and snuggle with them.   I lick Mommy’s tears and I stay nice and calm.  Mommy says that I am the perfect dog for her right now.   I will never be a Foley Monster but I can be like the big red blanket that used to be on the floor in our bedroom, a Foley Monster comforter.

But I am going to need all your help.   You have been doing a great job so far with the cards, and the presents, and the flowers.  It is impossible to imagine a better group of friends then I have.  Our little house is turning into a Foley museum and that is fine with me.

Foley was always the voice of reason whenever there was a dispute going on, and the voice of comfort when she thought that someone had their feelings hurt, and I will try to do the same, but I am only five years old and have lots of learning to do, so, if you could all watch out for one another I appreciate it.  You guys are the best.

I know Foley is interviewing applicants for new dog.  She tells me that is no reflection on me.  Mommy and Daddy need a new dog to help heal their heart.  Foley wants me to be strong and firm with the new dog like she was.  I certainly hope I can do that.  Don’t want to let her down.  

Keep me in your thoughts my friends.  And have patience.  I’m doing the best I can.  Honest.

Best in show? I say no

Pocket and I have watched the Westminster Kennel Club Dog show over and over and we have to tell you, we don’t get it.  When they line up those dogs for best in breed every dog looks exactly the same.  Where do we celebrate our individuality?

Pocket and I are in the Toy Group.  We are not happy about this.  We are not toys.  We are street smart, tough, small dogs.    If you pick us up do we squeak?  Well, OK, we do, but that is besides the point.  Do children fall in love with us instantly and want to play with us?  OK, that’s another yes.  When we sit very still in the window do people mistake us for fluffy toys?  Well, yes, true.  Maybe you can change it to the Rugged Toy Group.

Here are the breed characteristics for us Yorkies”

Overall
To be best in show I would have to have long hair.  Sorry Ringo.  This isn’t for me.  I don’t want to get my long snarls brushed every day.  And gosh knows what I would pick up on my walk.  And when I vick, how do I keep the hair out?   Do I have to walk on my front legs.  The whole long hair thing seems like a bad idea to me.  I don’t know why short haired Yorkies can’t be considered.  Personally I think both Pocket and I are beautiful dogs with short hair.  It says we should hold ourhead high and have an appearance of self-importance.  I think I have that one under control.  


Head
My head is supposed to be flat on top.  I don’t know what that means.  Am I supposed to walk around with a book on my head?   When I am at the groomers, and I bark that a dog is a flat head, it’s not a compliment.  My teeth are a problem, I’m missing a few.  Plus I have an over bite.  It is actually one of my best features because it makes my tongue stick out.   I don’t know how Pocket’s bite is except it hurt likes heck.  The nose needs to be black.  What other color could it be?  Well it could be brown because we have either eaten something we shouldn’t or really want Mom to like us.  Our eyes need to be sparkling with a sharp intelligent expression.  I think we have nice eyes.  But does it mean anything if our blog is sparkling with sharp intelligent expression  Also out eyes should be carried erect.  But if your eyes stay erect for more than four hours call your vet.

Body
Our bodies are supposed to be well proportioned and compact.  Well, I’m well proportioned and Pocket is compact.  Our shoulders should be the same height as our rump.  I am going to have to find my Suzanne Somers video to make that happen.  

Legs
It states our forelegs should be straight, our elbows either in nor out.  Excuse me:  But to be best is show I have to have elbows on my legs?  I think not.   Our hind legs stifles should be bent.  What the hell is a stifle, and why was Archie Bunker always ordering Edith to get him one>  Have you ever gone to the vet and told him you had an ache in your stifle?  How are you supposed to bend a body part we don’t know we have?  We also should have black toenails.  But what about my pedicures?  What lollipop would choose best in show over great nails?   Our declaws are also removed.  I have to ask:  If best in show is the best breed standard, why all the cosmetic surgery?

Tail
Our tail is to be docked to a medium length.  OK, this is where I waive the tail feather.  Yorkie tails are beautiful, leave us alone and let us fly our freak flag.  There is something wrong with a people who will dock your tail but leave your reproductives in place.  Then again there is something wrong with cutting off our reproductives and not docking our tail.  You people can’t wait to snip and clip can you?  It is like you all have Edward Scissorhand envy.  New  rule between dog and man:  You don’t clip and we don’t nip.  Or better yet you don’t dock and we won’t talk about your little clock.

Coat
Quality, texture and quantity of coat are of prime importance which are all things my Daddy said didn’t matter.  Our hair must be straight, not wavy, which is a real blow to the doggy mousse industry.  The rules say it should be floor length. Look, I like to clean the floor with my tongue but I’m not a swifter.  Oh and I should have a bow in my hair.  Why should I have to get myself dressed up pretty?  What am I some sweet harlot looking to pick up a Johnny Fun Time?  Personally I love our short haired looks.  Frankly I don’t have time to do my hair in the morning.

Colors
Puppies are born black and tan and are normally darker in body color, which makes Rick Santorum want to vomit.  The color of our hair continues to be important through life.  When I was in my rebellious age, three through five, I had a pink Mohawk.  That really set back my show dog career..  The richness of the tan on our head is important so apparently we need to resemble a drat of Guinness.  Also we need to be a dark steel-blue not a silver blue.  Personally I have had the I lost my ovaries blue for a long time.

Color on Body
Our blues have to extend over our body from the neck to the root of our tale.  Note:  In 1967 BB King had a top then hit with How Blue is My Tail?

Headfall
I don’t want to know what this means.  And I don’t want to know.  When I was Queen Yorkie in France I was know for saying “Let them eat kibble.”  Lots of pups lost their head of that one but I escape with mine.  

Chest and Legs
I’m not sure what they are going for here but I am sure implants are not appreciated.
.
Weight
Must not exceed seven pounds.  I don’t agree with this at all.  I think we are creating bulimic pups.  I weigh slightly over seven pounds.  Let’s here it for all the real lollipops with curves.  Woof, woof.

So neither Pocket or I will ever be best in show.  But we’re best in our house.  I don’t have a problem with show dogs.  They all seem like good pups to me.  But to our owners we don’t need a list of rules about what makes us perfect.  They know we are all truly perfect at heart.

Foley learns she is a Senior Dog

It was an average Saturday night.  I was surfing the Internet looking for images of dogs in submissive poses when I incorrectly pawed the search engine and found an article on how to care for your senior dog.  

I have never considered myself a senior.  I am young, spry, have a cutting edge sense of humor, I am down with the the snizzle, and can more than handle my four year old sister.  I am still in my prime.

But according to this article not only was I no longer in my prime, I was four years past.  I read in disbelief that dogs become Seniors at age seven.  I am close to lapping Senior.  What comes after Senior?  Senor Wences?  If you understand the reference, you are a Senior.

Something this article says that I do agree with is that I need more attention and care.  I should get more lap time.  I should get all the belly rubs.  Pocket is four.  She should spend her days hunting and gathering.  She is in her prime.  She should be giving me portions of her food.  She should hold my paw as I cross the street.  She should be checking on my during power outages and bad snow storms.


The article said that “ideally” I should be seen by a veterinarian every six months.  Yes, and “Ideally” I would have fresh chicken every night.  The person who said this is, of course, is a veterinarian who would cash in on these twice yearly pinching, prodding, and butt violating humiliations.  She is from up Smoochy’s way in Wisconson.  Her name is Stephanie Sosniak.  Now that’s a made up name if I ever heard one.  She is probably in the veterinary vetness protection program.  Probably misdiagnosed Gotti’s Goldy with gout.    If you take nothing else from this blog take this:  Seniors shouldn’t see Stephanie Sosniak.

The second paragraph dealt with dental care.  I am a very friendly dog who goes for many walks here in our village of the pruned.  Many of the pruned people bend down to rub me and talk to me.  Take my word for it:  We aren’t the ones with dental of breath problems.

Regardless I do get dental care frequently.  After much debate, whining, crying, and hiding we finally got Daddy out from behind the rocker to provide dental care.  Since neither Pocket or I will tolerate anything being jammed into our tiny mouths (unlike the dreaded thermometer we have a spray for our teeth.  We still hide whenever we see the spray bottle.  Daddy pulls back our lips and blasts our teeth the rubs it in while we are stunned from the spraying.  Frankly I find this to be a major violation and something that should be litigated.  But darn I’m so addicted to the minty fresh taste I’m ready to bathe with Whitney.  (If you think it’s too soon remember, I live in doggy time, and to me it’s been weeks.)

My parents need to monitor me for changes in behavior.  If I go from grumpy to b*tchy they should take notice.  They do watch for changes in my appetite and thirst which is a pain because some days I’m just thirsty.  I appreciate them watching over me but they do when I pee, poo, drink, eat.  Sometimes a lollipop just needs her privacy.


And stop worrying about my weight.  I weigh seven pounds.  People deliver babies bigger than that.  How something my size fits out of there, that I don’t know.

And then there is exercise.  I don’t mind.  But sometimes I just come to a full stop and get pulled for awhile.  I think it’s just me being ornery then me not wanting to walk.  But I am not chasing that stupid ball like Pocket.

So in summation here is what I took from the article.  I must accept that I am a senior dog and I need to make some changes.  I definitely need more attention.  But only the good kind, the more treats, the more food, the more laps, if I am in the mood the more exercise.  And I just can’t quit that minty tooth stuff.  But as for the weight and water and more vet appointments and watching me all the time back off.  I’ll let you know if there is a problem.

And remember, it is not nice to talk about a ladies’ weight or age.  I am just a well seasoned and mature lollipop and those are the best. 

Another addition of Foley Monster the Human Whisperer

1)  Start training your humans early on.  While old people can be taught new tricks, it is best to start training your human as soon as you get home.  Whether you are a puppy or a rescue as soon as you get home pee and poop on the floor.  They will not get mad at you because you are either a cute puppy or have gone through so much as a rescue.  Now it is important to remember to continue to pee and poop every few days.  Don’t do it everyday, it is imperative for your parents to believe you are “almost getting it.”  After awhile they will just decide you are “one of those dogs who has accidents now and then” and, if it’s raining, or cold, or you’re just not in the mood, you can go to the bathroom without going outside  

2) Train your human gently and dogely, using positive, motivational methods.  Make sure your tail is always upright and wagging, your nose is always cold and you have a smile on your face.  Be ready to give your human sweet kisses when they fill your water bowl on time, give you treaats and food.  

3) You must get your human to accept that while we love them and do anything they want us to do they are actually our  “hired help”  Also, when we are bored, or need some exercise, and our humans are just sitting on the couch remember that they are a human gymnasium.   We don’t beg at the table.  We are dogs.  We have self respect.  We don’t beg.  We do gently remind our parents that we are here, we are hungry, and we are not going anywhere.  We need to be jumping on visitors to answer to important questions.  (1) Are they armed? and (2) Are they cookied?  We do not demand attention, we just remind you if your hand is just lying there, or doing something silly like playing on the computer or holding a book, it would be much better for their mental and physical health to scratch or pet us.  We should not ignore our parents commands, but we should take them under advisement.  Some humans think if we don’t listen to them inside we won’t  listen to you outside.  This is foolish.  We listen to you outside because all we want to do is get back inside where we don’t have to listen to you.  .

4) Avoid trying to get your parents to do things just for vicks and giggles.  If you manipulate your parents into doing something it has to be something you want them to do all the time.  If you have them do silly things for you they will catch on and not to anything.  .

5) One bark should equal one response, so give your human only one bark (twice max!)  Repeat barking tunes your human out (as does nagging) and teaches your humans that the first barl is enough.  

6) Avoid giving your humans combined commands which are incompatible. Combined commands such as "feed me-treat me" can confuse your human.   Using this example, say either "feed me or "give me treat". The command "feed me-give me treat" simply doesn't exist.

7) When giving your human a command, avoid using a sharp bark. Even if your human is especially independent/unresponsive, your tone of bark when issuing an obedience command such as "feed me,” “take me" or ""give me lap, should be calm and authoritative, rather than sharp or loud.

NOTE: Many dogs complain that their humans are "stubborn", and that they "refuse to listen" when given a command. Before blaming the human when he or she doesn't respond to a bark, one must determine whether or not: a) the human  knows what the dog wants, b) he/she knows how to comply,  c) he ir she is not simply being unresponsive due to fear, stress or confusion. d) he or she is on Ritalin e) he or she is just stupid.  If it is e relax.  You will prevail in time.

8 ) Whenever possible, give licks positively, rather than using it in conjunction to reprimands, warnings or punishment. Your human should trust that when it is licked  good things happen, like sepsis.

9) Correct or, better yet, prevent the (mis)behavior, don't bite or snarl at your human.  . Teaching and communication is what it's all about, not getting even with your human. If you're taking an "it's-you-against-your human, tail whip 'em into shape" approach, you'll undermine your relationship, while missing out on all the fun that a motivational training approach can offer. Additionally, after-the-bark discipline does NOT work.  But between two consenting dogs under the covers in the middle of the night can be fun.

10) When training one's human, whether praising or correcting, good timing is essential. Take the following example:  Your Mom has prepared a platter of hors d'oeuvres for a small dinner party, which they’ve left on the kitchen counter. Your walk into the room and smell the hors d'oeuvres. You air-sniff, then eyes the food, and are poised to jump up. This is the time to fart.  What is even better is work on releasing delayed farts.  Farts are just bubbles of gas.  If you can release one in the bedroom, then run into the kitchen just before your fart bubble pops in the bedroom, your human will go into the bedroom to smell the situation (or The Situation who smells like farts, so I hear) and you eat the hors d’oeuvres then run into the living room, sit on the couch, and when she notices the hors d’oeuvres are missing, nod at Daddy and say Ja Accuse/

11) Often, dogs inadvertently reinforce their humans’' misbehavior, by giving their humans lots of attention (albeit negative attention) when they aren’t feeding you or aren’t playing with you.  Needless to say, if your human receives lots of attention when they won’t let you jump on them, that behavior is being reinforced, and is therefor likely to be repeated.

12) Keep a lid on your anger. Never train your human when you're feeling grouchy or tired.  Earning your human's respect is never accomplished by biting,snapping or peeing on your human’s shoes.  . Moreover, studies have shown that fear and stress inhibit the learning process.

Good luck