Wordless National Dog Day

River Tries to Disappear Down Her Own Rabbit Hole

There are times in life a dog just needs to disappear:  When it is crate time, bath time, tooth brushing time, it’s disappearing time  We have, not including bathrooms and laundry, four rooms, two of which are blocked by closed doors, so places to hide are difficult to come by.  I have discovered a place but haven’t been able to get inside.

When my parents come to get me I stand, put my head down, lift my stubby tail and walk in circles.  It took my parents a while to figure out that I was trying to disappear up my own butt hole.

I have come close several times.  I can get my nose to it (this is easier when I am sitting down but I don’t have the momentum to get up there if I am sitting.)  But I am just not long enough to get inside my own butt.

Someday I hope to do so and once I do my parents won’t be able to take me where I don’t want to be. and be safe.

I told Pocket, who is not nearly as bendy as I am, about my plan. She reminded me that while I am quite clever I am also impulsive and often leap into things. like my own butt hole, without an exit strategy which, in this instance would require me to back out of my butt.

Entering my butt seems quite easy but backing out of it seems quite difficult momentum wise, agility wise, and otherwise.   And I don’t think my ribs give me enough room to turn around inside myself.

Still, I hate the crate, and having my teeth brushed, so, until I think of something else, shoving myself up my own butt is the only answer.

I better bring a lighter so I can see.

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 

Wordless Wednesday

Pocket and River Have Differing Views of Cousin Neely's Visit

Pocket: Neely came, Neely went, and mostly, I yawned.  Last year when Neely stayed here I hated him.  I hid under chairs, never left Mommy’s side, my insides turned to water, it was a terrible situation.  Meanwhile, Foley either laughed at me or yawned.  Mommy anticipated the same thing this year.  And with me having digestion issues Mommy forecast nothing but disaster.  But I’m a big girl now, the leader of the pack, and I am now confident in my position in  my Mom’s heart, so, after a fit of initial barking, I mostly ignored the little bugger.

River:  Neely came and I hated him.  Who the hell was this guy?  Why are they bringing other dogs into the house?  Are they dissatisfied with my work?  Shouldn’t I have gotten some sort of warning?  The last time I was with a male in a house I ended up pregnant and then on the street.  I did not want this to happen again.

Pocket:  Neely had that faucet shut off a long time ago.  Mostly he’s just a big lovable goof ball who was missing his family.  I let him play ball with me in the morning and he didn’t hog the ball like River does when she plays with me, and he never attacked me in my sleep like River does, or get all defensive about her food like River does.

River:  That thing came walking in here like he owned the place, chewing my toys, sitting in my chair, and continually giving me the “How you doin’ look!”  And while Pocket didn’t have a bad poop the entire time he was here my appetite disappeared and I had to be fed separately and begged to eat.  That is not me.  Then, the last day he was here, he crapped all over the house, like he was going through something stressful.  Far from a model guest.

Pocket:  There was only one thing I cared about, that he stayed off my Mom’s lap, and he respected that.  He did spend a lot of time face licking Daddy, I think he almost ripped his lip off, but that’s OK.  Daddy was willing to lose a lip to keep peace in the house.  Anyone is welcome in the house as long as they stay off Mommy’s lap.

River:  I believe that dog took us to the edge of disaster.  Thank God we are back to Mommy, Daddy, Pocket and me.  And I am back to being the biggest dog in the house.  I hope I never see that dog again.

Pocket:  Can’t wait until Neely comes back in April.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wedneday

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

What do you mean did I eat the plant?  Why would you think that?  Why am I sitting in the bay window?   Looking for the bay

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

River catches her doppelganger

During the first week living in my now beloved forever home I noticed, and blogged about, another Griffon living in the looking glass above my Mom’s armoire.  I barked at it, it barked at me.  I lifted my head, it lifted it’s head.  Not only was it in my house it was mocking me.  

Mommy told me I was being silly.  It was not another Griffon, it was a “Reflection.”  Well it sure looked like a Griffon to me.  But she told me to ignore it, and we were still at that stage where she was trying to find out what kind of dog I was, and I was desperately trying not to get sent back to Florida, so I learned to ignore this “Reflection.”

And I did, until I was firmly ensconced in my parent’s hearts.  It didn’t take me long, but I still waited for the right moment.  It was a rainy March morning.  Mommy and Daddy were sleeping in late. I popped my head out from beneath the covers, saw the “Reflection,” made sure my parents were in a deep sleep, then ran across the bed and attacked.

I flew through the looking glass and landed on a bed just like mine, with a sleeping Pocket, Mommy and Daddy.  But my reflection was awake.  “What are you doing?” it asked.

“I have come to take you back to my side of the mirror and prove that you are real.”

“But...but…” the River Reflection said, “that’s not allowed.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said.  “I am the heir to Foley Monster and I do not follow the rules.”

I then grabbed the River Reflection by the ear and pulled her through the looking glass and back to our bed.  In the morning Mommy was stunned to see the two of us together but since I caught her fair and square she let me keep her.

Here is a picture of us together.

Never doubt the word, or the determination of River Song.

River's Interview With Vladamir Putin

Foley told me I needed to have an adventure so off I went to Russia to check out the Chachi Olympics.   I was able to get an open media pass, because no one from the dog blogging community had claimed one.  I had to wear it around my neck at all times so I would not be confused with a stray dog.  When I got into my hotel room it was furnished poorly, dimly lit, overcrowded, hot and the water was yellow.  If there were more people in walkers i would have sworn I was back in Florida.

I decided if I was going to make a splash with my first big adventure I had to get the big interview of the Olympics:  Vladimir Putin.  It being the Chachi Olympics I e-mailed Scott Baio and asked him to set up the interview but the little punk ignored me so I contacted The Fonz because Chachi always did what he said, and soon Putin’s people were calling me for an appointment.

I trekked over to his villa overlooking the mud mountain where the skiers skidded downhill.  I kept my credentials around my neck so I would not be confused with a stray dog and rounded up or adopted by an overeager American slope skier.  When I reached the library where the shirtless Putin sat on a hobby horse I was frisked by a hairy cossack with cold hands.

Finally I was given an audience with his Putiness.  Of course my first question was his horrible treatment of the stray dogs on the streets of Chachi.

“The dogs were a badness on our streets.  Badness on the streets must be eliminated.  First badness:  Homeless dogs.  Second badness:  Homeless people.  Third badness:  Home owning Gay people.  All must go.  Stain on Russia.”

I told him that it was my understanding that the Olympics was about bringing people of different beliefs and cultures together to celebrate our differences.

“Not in Russia.  This is the Bizarro Olympics.  Winter Olympic in cold place, we have in warm place.  Hotel have running water, we have creeping sludge.  Olympic welcome everyone with open arms, we have hairy Cossack beat them with club.”

I asked him about his treatment of dogs.  If he knew they were having the Olympics why didn’t they find home for the street dogs then, why wait until the Olympics were starting then decide to kill my comrades.

“We Russia.  We don’t prepare so good.  Hitler say he hate Communists  He offer us deal.  We say OK.  He wipe us half out. What a country.”

And that’s when I called him a dick.  And then they said to lock up the little dog.  The bare chested dictaitor on the hobby horse told me to put me behind a foor foot gate because a little dog like me couldn’t get out.  But was you know I am a flying dog, and I jumped over that gate and ran back to the Olympic village where one of those crazy slope skiers brought me home in his luggage.

But before that I took a big dump on that Putin guys shirt.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

 

River watches the Brussels Griffon at Westminster

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

River's Further Desecration of Foley;s LSVKC Causes Foley to Take Drastic Act

As my blog followers know when I lived on your side of the Bridge I slept in, entertained guests in, swam laps in, and watched movies on my widescreen TV in, my leopard skin vagina kitty condo.  When I crossed over the Bridge I asked my sister Pocket to turn the condo into a museum featuring historical artifacts of my life so friends from around the land could tour it.

When you undertake a venture like opening up a museum public relations is critical.  Any negative publicity could be disastrous.  So, when the soul whose name is going to be above the word museum gets a new sister who takes a leak on the roof of said museum it is reasonable to expect that anticipated traffic there will be lessened once the news goes viral.

Luckily, except for worldwide condemnation of my leaky sister River’s behavior, there was no blowback from the news.   But then River, who, I might add, was an unwed puppy age mother when I gave her a chance as my replacement on my Mom’s lap showed that the future of dogdom is in very poor hands, because she did not  heed my warnings about what I would do to her if she peed on my condo again, she upped her game.

She crapped on the roof of my condo.  My condo!   Where I sleep!  Where my children come and play with their toys!

Something needed to be done.  I visited Pocket in her dreams, told her that I was disappointed in her, and, to make it up to me, and properly punish River, Pocket needed to attack River and send her to my side of the Bridge so she would no longer be able to desecrate my kitty condo.

But should Pocket be absolved of all guilt?   (Being a Yorkie who has passed to the heavens and is still blogging on Earth I do feel a certain right to absolve.)  I say no!  So, to punish Pocket for not protecting the kitty condo, I visited River in her dreams and ordered her to attack Pocket and send her to my side of the Bridge as punishment.

Now don’t worry about your friends.  The two of them could not injure a grasshopper in need of a walker.  But I do take the utmost joy in watching the two of them go at it, snarling, biting, nipping and not inflicting a bit of damage on either one of them (although I do apologize to my Mommy who is left refereeing the battles, but just between us, she should have kept her eye on the condo too.)

This still left me with a security problem at my condo.  I first instructed Mommy to put the condo in her bedroom closet where no dogs are allowed.  Then I hired Max the ever awake security guard.  Here is a picture of Max guarding the entry of my condo.

Now there is a dog I can trust.  No needs, no demands.  If you visit the museum please heed him, he may look harmless, but you don’t want to cross him.

The museum is now open.  Stop by and visit.

Sorry for the smelly roof

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

A River Runs Through My Life by Pocket

I think it is true of any pup who loses a sibling to the Bridge:  They have to go through a period of adjustment.  Mommy and Daddy were just busted after Foley left and it was up to me, with Foley’s coaching, to help them.  I am a modest, little dog but I do think I did a decent job.  I never made demands, I didn’t complain, I became the best me I could be.

Foley told me she was interviewing for position of second dog but I assured her that it wasn’t necessary, the three of us were faring well, and had settled into a normal, functioning, if unexciting life.

Then one afternoon, while Mommy was out, Daddy working, and I was relaxing in my crate, I heard water rushing, then the ground shook, the dam gave way, and a River burst through the door and has been running through my life ever since.

I figured Foley would have sense enough to get another Yorkie, something smaller than me that I could intimidate with my five pounds and slowly mold into the dog I wanted her to be, like Foley did to me, but instead I got this thing nearly twice my weight, who was all legs and teats, thought she was more experienced than me because she had a litter, and could jump from the floor to the stars.

The first day all she did was explore and snore.  I invited her into the bed, telling her that anything from the chest up was hers, anything from there downwards mine, and she respected that, for at least the first few nights, but then she started using those long legs to push me down the bed and next thing I knew I was sleeping by the dreaded feet.

In the morning when Daddy threw my ball to begin our morning game guess who went galloping after it and took it from me?  Then she didn’t drop it by Daddy to be thrown again.  She jumped up on the couch and degraded my ball by licking it.  Daddy took it from her and threw it again and she out galloped me again.  But, and don’t tell River this, the more the ball was thrown the more I like her retrieving it, since carrying it in my mouth was my least favorite part of ball.

We have had a few tussles but I have come out the victor, keeping her in line like Foley said I should.   I have let her have Mommy’s lap, since I prefer the seat next to her with my butt up against the heated vibrating part of the chair (hey, River got to make whoopee with a stud and have a baby, I should get this.  Don’t judge me!)

And River is going to have to go to training classes, something I never had to do, even if Foley says if I was doing a better job of training her River wouldn’t need classes.  I think the classes are for human anyway and Foley was responsible for training them.

I think we are going to be fine as a family, and I don’t worry about it raining anymore.  We must live upstream because all I hear all day long is “Down River.”