Dogs Dealing With Time are Our Pups of the Week

I am going to allow give you another secret about Rainbow Bridge.  There is no time here, no clocks, no days.  Since we are here for eternity there is no need to get anything done by a certain point.  When there are millions of tomorrows putting things off until then doesn’t seem to be a big deal.

But on the mortal side of the Bridge Time is a constant companion.  One that never stops moving:  It keeps going, at the same madingley steady pace, and when you stop paying attention, or even if you are paying the closest attention possible, this companion  known as Time steals what you love until the day comes when it’s cold hand reaches for you, and sends you to me, and your loved ones, here on the immortal side of life.

No matter how much you search for solitude you will never be alone because Time is always there, and with each methodical step a grain of your life slips away.  Sometimes, when you are walking alone at night, you hear it’s footfalls.  Sometimes when you are sitting alone you feel it’s cold presence pass near you and sometimes you see it, just out of the corner of you.

When a pup you love starts getting older, a bit slower, a bit grayer, or worse, sicker,  Time walks a bit closer to you and you become more aware of him.  You want to reach over, grab Time, make him stop but you can’t, he keeps looking straight ahead, taking the same measured step stealing those special moments you need to treasure.

I think there is nothing harder than knowing that Time is near, and you so want to stop it, so you have more time.  But Time keeps moving, and the days are getting shorter, the sun is setting earlier, and the end is in sight.

Time becomes your enemy.  You hate it, because with each step Time inches closer to taking your beloved.  “Stop,” you want to scream.  “Show some compassion, show kindness, just give a moment, one moment when I know you aren’t there.”  But Time shows no emotion, no empathy, until He runs out.

Humans on the mortal side of life say they do thing to pass the Time, but you can never pass Time, never get ahead of it, you do things to ignore Time, to hush those fateful footsteps, to keep him out of the corner of your eye.  We must all find ways to ignore Time, if not it will drive us all quite mad.

My only advice to you from my lofty perch at the Bridge is to not walk in step with Time, but to run, to dance, to enjoy Time, even when it’s running out.  Stop for a minute, to hug and hold your pup while Time keeps going.  You can’t stop Time, all you can do is enjoy it’s passage.

Enjoy every second with those you love and soldier on when Time takes what you love, until what he takes reunites one day again.

The Nose Knows by Pocket Dog

A scientist with way too much time on his hands, obviously obsessed with dogs’ noses and peoples’ crotches, discovered, by what I hope was a freak accident, that dogs can detect prostate cancer in men by sniffing their pee.  The breakthrough was thought to be a great advancement for man, but really it is a great advancement for dogs.

Now, when we see a strange man, and we jump up and shove our face in his crotch, and are told to get down, we can turn around, look at our parent, and say “dammit, this isn’t fun, this is a medical examination.” If, after an examination we grab on to the man’s cuff and don’t let go it isn’t a sign of aggressiveness but a sign that something might be seriously wrong and the stranger should see a doctor immediately.

I hope that the scientists with nothing better to do can help us detect some butt cancer too, and maybe some lady part cancer too.  Oh to be able to shove our noses where ever we want in the name of medicine.

I advise all humans wear clothes that are sewed together quite well.  The last thing someone needs walking down the street is a medical breakthrough.

Cracking the Refrigerator Code

Since she was a pup I have noticed that Pocket, while seemingly very innocent, is, when determined, quite clever.  I have, sadly, had three sisters and a brother who went to the Bridge.  I loved them all, but in Pocket I saw a dog who might be able to solve the mystery of the most bothersome appliance in the house.

No, not the vacuum cleaner.  While I grant you the vacuum cleaner sucks, if we were to defeat it, while we would have the temporary reward of victory, we would more than likely get in a tremendous amount of trouble, and Mommy would just buy a new on the next day.

No, the real appliance of mystery is the refrigerator.  It is here where what we desire the most is kept.  Food.  And unlike a cabinet door it can’t be nudged open.  These appliances have been made dog proof because that’s the way the humans have wanted it.  
They have spent decades working on keeping us dogs out of their magical food storage unit.  They have spent years perfecting that white thing on the side of the door.  It’s only purpose is to make it impossible to open the door except by using the handle.  And they position the handle so high up that it’s impossible for a small dog to get to, and so close to the door that it’s impossible for a larger dog to get their paws around it.  I never thought we could crack it, until Pocket was born, and I started seeing things through her eyes, and realized, with years of planning, we could get that door open.

First Pocket invented these.  I know, we have never mentioned that Pocket invented this toy.  I know many of you have played with the toy, and enjoyed it, but it isn’t really a toy, it’s a tool.  What we needed was something long that could fit in our mouths.  We now pause until Brody’s Mom stops laughing.

The long snake toy is perfect.  But to do something as complicated as breaking into a refrigerator you have to be patient.  If we started using it for it’s true purpose right away humans would figure it out and take it off the market.  But now, since the humans think it is just an innocent toy, there is one in just about every home in the country.



Last week Pocket and I began to experiment getting the refrigerator door open.  I waited for a day when Daddy put us in the bedroom because Daddy does not really pay attention when he is shutting to door and it does not latch.  I am able to paw the door open and let Pocket out of her crate.  She picked the stuffless snake in her mouth and we walked into the kitchen.  She stood on her back legs but couldn’t reach the handle.  She then stood up on her tippy claws and was just able to get the tip of the toy through the handle  I then stood up on my tippy claws but my legs are smaller and I could not reach it.  I thought we were done but Pocket put her head under my butt and then used the strength she had built up from all those k9 kamps to lift me just enough that I was able to grab the tip of the snake with me teeth.  

I pulled it down until it was equal length with the snake on the other side.  Then Pocket and I each took an end in our mouths and began backing up and pulling.  It was hard to get traction on the linoleum but finally the troublesome white stuff on the door pulled away from the frame.  The door was open!  Pocket and I both ran for the door but it shut before we got there.  We determined that one of us, when we opened the door, had to stand with the snake in their mouth while the other explored what was inside.  We picked up the snake again, pulled, and this time we got the door open and I passed the end of the snake to Pocket who now held both ends.

I ran up to the refrigerator.  I looked in the door.  Soda (blech!) and beer (hmmm, but no opener.)  Everything else in the drawers were in plastic bottles.  Then I put my paws on the first shelf.  There was a drawer below us.  I tried to open it with my paws but could not do it.  Then I realized what I needed.  A butt scratcher.  Daddy uses it to get Pocket’s ball when it gets stuck under furniture.  I picked up the scratcher and put it in my mouth then walked back to the refrigerator.  This was very difficult.  I had to hold the non scratcher end in my mouth and then lifted it until it was under the handle of the drawer and pulled.  The drawer opened!  I scampered over and looked inside. .  It was filled with fruits and vegetables.  I lifted a bag out tore it open and shared a baby carrot with Pocket.  I liked them but Pocket spit hers out.

Then I put the carrots back and looked on the first shelf.  Butter:  no good.  Celery:  Blech.  What’s this in the bag here?   Oh my gosh.  The mother lode.  It was the bag of Kerri’s Kookies.  Pocket came running over and the door shut behind us but we didn’t care.   We enjoyed three cookies and Pocket reminded me not to over do it.  When our tummies were full we used the snake to open the door again and I put the Kookies back.  Pocket was now nervous.  This had taken a long time and she was afraid Mommy was going to be home but I wanted to take a look on the second shelf.  We got the door open, I peered up, and then I saw it, boneless chicken thighs.  I grabbed the package and pulled it to the floor while I heard a dog cry no.  I began to tear at the package while Pocket begged me to stop.  She said if we ate the chicken now Mommy would know we had defeated the refrigerator and not only would we cost ourselves another look inside but all our friends would never get in their refrigerators either.

It was one of the most difficult decisions of my life.   But I decided to return the chicken thighs to the refrigerator untouched.  We opened the door again.  I stood up with my paws on the shelf and Pocket ran up to me.  The door squished me a little but didn’t hurt.  Then we picked both picked up the package of chicken and replaced it.  I took one more look around the refrigerator, but there was only yogurt, cake, and other yucky human items.  We let the door shut.

We agreed to come back in a week.  If we took a little out at a time it might not be noticed.  Pocket also went back to the drawing board in her kitty condo to try and get to the top shelf, and, if at all possible, the dream of dreams, the freezer.

So now friends it is up to you.  I am afraid that smaller only dogs may be out of luck unless there is a helpful cat and trusting squirrel.  I do believe a big dog, if they move quickly, can both open the door and get to the food.  But don’t be greedy.  Take only a couple of items.  If the humans figure out we have cracked the refrigerator code they will go back to securing them again.

So be smart, and good luck my friends.

We are one step closer to ruling the world.

Sounds that causes dogs pain

Studies how that dogs are sensitive to certain sounds.  Take Pocket for example  She does not like the high pitched sounds that emit from smoke and carbon dioxide alarms that have failing batteries enclosed.  Other dogs hate the sound of thunder or fireworks.  To help identify with the common every day dog I have made a list of sounds that I cannot tolerate.

The word “no.”  I do not understand it and hearing it is very harmful to my ears.  Mommy says this word a lot.  When I sit on her chest while she is having a snack and stare into her eyes she says it.  When I want to have some chicken she is enjoying for supper she says it.  When I decide I have taken as much of Pocket as I can and want to kill her she says it.  It is a very bad word and it hurts my brain.  I wish she would stop.

The word “down.”  

This is interchangeable with the word “off.”  The words are so offending all we can do is lie down and put our paws over our ears if we are on furniture, or jump up on a person enticing them to pick us up and  cover our ears.  Either way it seems quite counterproductive. 

The sound of the last precious kibbles spilling from the bag.  Oh what a lonely sound that is.  Will there be more kibble?  Did humans stop making them?  What will we live on?  The sound of the last kibble is most frightening of sounds, but the first rip of a new bag of kibble and that first whiff of fresh kibble, there is nothing better.

The sound of humans chewing.  

 This noise is just awful.  It can only be abated by the humans sharing the food with us.  Most humans thing that we stare into their eyes, beg, or bark, because we want food, but we just either want to stop the horrible sound of human chewing or quell the sound with our on chewing.  Honest.

The sound of the vacuum:  Not only does it suck, but I am part of nature and we all abhor it.

The sound of absolutely nothing in the middle of the night:  This causes us to sit up, hear nothing, and then begin to bark loudly to wake everyone up.  We just want you to make that sound of silence stop.  It’s so annoying.

The sound of car keys:  Oh this is a terrible sound, this sound makes us go run and hide.  Most of the time we hear this sounds we know we are going to be left alone and not have a warm lap for awhile.  And who knows when our parents are coming back?   This sound can be cured by the sound of us being told that we are allowed to come with our parents on a trip.  If your parents want to make sure you never suffer from this sound have them take you where ever they go in the world.

The sound of velcro.  This one is rather personal.  Whenever I wear a jacket that is attached under my belly by velcro straps, and they are pulled apart, I give a loud yip because it sounds like my guts are being ripped out.

So please humans, stop these harmful sounds so us pups can live in peace.

In whch Foley and Pocket start a football team and sign Michael Vick

As most of my astute friends must know by now Mr. Michael Vick has been reinstated to play professional football by commissioner Pantywaste Knickertwist.

Pocket and I knew we had to act quickly. We ignited the Pocket Rocket, I climbed on, and we flew to the icy part of hell to get Michael Vick’s John Hancock on a contract to play football for our new team, the Tanner Bubs.

Winning games with a group of dogs and only one hardly professional human player would be a challenge, so we told Mr. Vick that we would be breaking training in the morning.

We met in the big field at the State Mental Institution across the street from my house where they used to play croquet before someone realized that giving mental patients sticks with big wooden mallets on the end was a bad idea.

Mr. Vick was already there when we arrived. I told him we needed to see if his arm was still strong, so we gave him a ball, and our star wide receiver, Sonic, took off after it, jumped, and had the ball graze off his teeth and fall on the ground.

I looked at Pocket and nodded. She jumped up, grabbed the electrical cables, with Ashton’s help hooked them up to Mr. Vick’s ankles, and Chelsea turned on the battery.

“Ooohhhhh” Mr Vick yelled like a giant cocktail weenie and then did a passable moonwalk as smoke rose from the tops of his shoes.

“What did ya all go and do that for?” he asked, slapping his ankles trying to put out his burning socks.

“You didn’t complete the pass. You really didn’t show the spirit we were looking for on that play. This is just a motivational tool that we have developed,” I explained.

Mr. Vick asked for some water and Hobo dragged over a pail filled with brackish water.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It’s water,” Hobo said. “We imported it from a kennel in Virginia, thought it would make you feel at home.”

“You aren’t too good to drink kennel water are you Mr. Vick?” Pocket asked.

“No, that’s OK,” he said, knowing commissioner Pantywaste Knickertwist had told him we would be suspended if he said anything negative about pups. He grimaced as he began to drink the dirty water when suddenly he was hit from behind and thrown ten feet.

“Hey Foley, Pocket, it’s me Matilda,” the big black Newfoundland said.

“Hi Matilda, do you remember what I told you your job is?” I asked.

”Get the quarterback!’ she said.

Foley pointed at Vick. “There he is,” she said as a stunned Vick tried to pick himself up out of the dirt.

“Got him!” Matilda said and she ran along the grass, picked him up in her mouth, and carried him off a hundred yards in the wrong direction, as Vick said: “Ow, oh ow, oh ow, ow, ow, oh help me, I’m being carried off by a big black dog, ow, ow, oh she’s slobbering, oh I’m all wet, ow, ow, oh look a penny, missed it, ow, ow, ow.”

Foley sent Chase and Gucci to bring the wet little human back. Matilda dropped him on the ground and said she was sorry and was given a nice, cold, bowl of water.

“Why can’t I get some nice water!” Vick cried.

“You just got beaten by a dog who doesn’t even know the rules,” Foley said. “No soup for you.”

A dejected Vick got up. “We need to see if you still run,” Foley said nosing the ball toward him.

“Whatcha’ want me to do?” he asked.

“Just run with the ball and we will send our defenders against you.”

Vick nodded. He picked up the ball and ran back and forth smiling as Morgan, Brookie, Gracie Anne, and the Lambies chased after him. He turned up field towards the goal line when he heard a rumbling and turned to see the most frightening site. Shama, Karma, and the Pack were racing towards him.

He turned and tried to run the other way as the pups hit him high and low and then began to pull at him like he was the lone soft chew toy left at the house. Vick was screaming as the dogs tore at him, and then Duke grabbed an arm and carried it off.

“Don’t run off the with that arm!” Pocket yelled. “I promised Macdougal a bone for his birthday.”

“Hey, those dogs just stole my arm!” as Vick stood, stumbling towards Foley.

“It wasn’t your throwing arm was it?” Foley asked.

“No,” the one armed quarterback answered.

“Then what are you complaining about?” Foley said.

“Oh Foley,” Pocket, the more compassionate of the duo said. “You should be nice to Mr. Vick.” She looked up at him. “Would you like a Pepsi?” she asked.

“Well, I’d like my arm back better but a Pepsi would be sweet,” Vick said.

“Oh Pepsi,” Pocket and Foley called out.

Vick saw the little beagle running towards him. “What, that beagle got my Pepsi?” he asked.

“No. That beagle is your Pepsi,” Foley said.

The little beagle then jumped in the air and bit Vick on what humans call the crotch.

“Oh my God. This dog is biting my little Vick,” the quarterback yelled. “Ow, ow, ow, oh please have it let go, please save Mr. Little Vick, oh look a quarter, can’t reach it, ow, ow, ow ow!”

“That’s the way to catch the Pepsi spirit!” Hobo said.

“Look at Pepsi, she has a taste for life!” Baarney yelled.

“Pepsi now! Pepsi now! Pepsi now!” the other dogs chanted.

“Why is this dog biting me?” Vick asked.

“She’s the choice of our generation!” Foley said.

Pepsi finally let go and Vick fell to his knees, her one arm holding the affected area when he felt the ground shaking and looked up to see Ruger running towards him again and he cried out no as Ruger picked him up in his mouth and ran off behind the buildings.

A short time later Ruger came back with a foot in his mouth.

“That’s all that’s left,” he said. “I tossed him up in the air to play with him, his foot came off, and he slid into this lime pit.”

“I think he’s dead,” Foley said. She stared ahead thinking. “Yup, definitely dead.”

“Once again the Tanner Brigade solves a problem in the puppy world,” Hobo said.

“Let go get Frosty Paws to celebrate,” Foley said.

“But what about football?” Pocket asked with the ball at her feet. “Bauser and Hattie made these nice uniforms, why can’t we play?”

“Put the ball in your mouth,” Foley said. Her sister did. “Now let’s play kill the Pocket with the ball!” Foley said as the other dogs took off after Pocket who happily scampered across the field as the sun set over the happy brigade.