Tails From Rainbow Bridge: Hunting the Dream Monster with 12, Brooklyn and Teddy

I had become worried about my Mommy.  There was nothing physically wrong with her, but I had not been able to visit her dreams.  There was something blocking access to them that scared me. I needed some friends to help, so I picked 12 for his size, Brooklyn for her speed, and Teddy Bond for his cunning.

That night we flew into the sun and entered the beam that contained her dreams.  12, being the strongest, led the way, after pledging to knock down whatever barred entry.  Suddenly it was like we had hit a wall, and we were flung back, tumbling out of the beam and back to the Bridge.

“What was it?” I asked 12.

“I am not sure,” he said carefully choosing his words.  “It was much bigger and stronger than me. It pushed us away with just a slap.  I think it was a dream monster.”
That made sense.  A dream monster was causing my Mommy to have nightmares and interfering with her sleep.  We needed to make it go away.

Teddy went to his laboratory and came back with a stink bomb that he promised would make the monster flee.  The next time we flew into her dreams, Teddy went first. We stopped outside the sunbeam, and he tossed the bomb inside.  It was swatted back out unexploded and then went off all over us. We had to spend the rest of the day in the river washing away the stench.  Teddy said he was sorry and I told him how grateful I was that he tried.

The next day Brooklyn proposed to use her agility to get past the monster.  When we arrived she ran right through his legs. We got our first look at the beast.  He was green, with horns, and sharp teeth. His belly was round, his butt thin, and he wore cut off jeans.  He roared as he reached for Brooklyn then blocked her with a thick leg and threw her, and us, out of the dream beam.

We decided to attack the beast as one, using 12’s size, Brooklyn’s speed, Teddy’s cunning, and whatever unidentifiable quality I brought to the endeavor.   We flew in a tight cluster and burst from the beam into Mommy’s dreams. 12 hit the beast in the belly. Teddy blinded him with a special potion. Brooklyn ran around his legs tying them up, and then we knocked him down.

Now it was time for me to use my skill:  Talking.

“What are you doing in my Mommy’s dreams?” I demanded.  “Why are you tormenting her?”

The monster looked at me and then began to cry.  “She seems like a nice lady, and I was lonely,” he said.  “No one wants to play with me because I am big and ugly so I decided to hide in her dreams.  I didn’t mean to scare her.”

I felt bad for the beast.  He was right, even though he was kind, I understood why he scared my Mommy.  I convinced him to fly back to the Bridge with us where he would meet the most understanding souls on either side of the river.

And that is how the dream monster became a dog and a member of Doggyspace.  We named him Frankie, and he is very happy playing with his new doggy friends.  We all love him, despite his looks and fearsome face because loving unconditionally is what we do.


Most importantly, once again, my Mommy is having sweet dreams.

Pocket and the Birdhouse Mystery

One day, earlier this month, I was in the yard with Daddy.  He was attached to me by a leash that was hooked to my collar, so he didn’t wander away.  We walked over to the big pine tree where the birdhouse was hung. Daddy stopped and looked at the tiny wooden structure.  

Sticking out of the birdhouse was a robin.  It wasn’t moving. Daddy came near it and determined the bird was deceased.  Finding the robin carcass was strange. I have been told it is because when one dies a scavenger carries off the body.  I don’t think so. I think birds are immortal. Unless something untoward happens to them.
Daddy reached in his pocket, took out a poop bag, grabbed the bird, pulled it out of the house and threw the body in the trash, a rather inglorious end to what I am sure was a rich life.

When we got inside, I told River what had happened, and she was equally as curious. We both knew the ugly truth.  The bird did not die of natural causes; he was murdered inside the birdhouse!

I had to crack the case and bring the offending creature to justice.  At first, I suspected another bird but the only way a bird could have committed the murder was to be in the house at the time of the assault, and if it were it would have become trapped when the carcass got stuck in the door.  But the house was empty. I thought that the bird could have been shot from the outside of the house, but birds can’t shoot a gun.
But a squirrel can!

We all know we can’t trust squirrels.  They are vile and vicious creatures. I reconstructed the crime.  There must have been a fight, probably over bird seed since the house was near the feeder.  The bird likely was hoarding food. The squirrel got a weapon, after all, we know they can get their paws on anything, climbed the tree with the gun in its mouth, hung off a branch, and fired the weapon into the opening.  The squirrels only failing was that the shot was not instantly fatal. The bird had enough strength to pull itself out of the house where it died at the entrance.

I wanted to get out and interview the suspects, but the snows came.  I had to wait until it melted. I was preparing to start my interviews when I heard my parents talking. 
 They had arranged to take the tree down because so many pines had fallen during the storms and it was a threat to the house and shed.

Poppycock!  My parents were part of the conspiracy.  They were destroying the scene of the crime!  I don’t know what this bird knew and when he knew it, but I know my parents conspired with the hated squirrels to take him out. 

I don’t know if I will ever get justice for the poor bird with both the squirrels and my parents working against me.  But every time I go outside I have my nose to the ground searching for clues. Someday I will find the bird shooter and bring him to justice, or my name is not Pocket Dog Dog Detective.




The game is afoot!

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

We are watching the Incredible Dr. Pol and then we will discuss my surrendering the remote.  Any questions?

Monday Quesiton

How did you get your name:

Pocket:  When I came home with my parents as a puppy I was so small I could fit into a pocket and that is how I became Pocket Dog.

River Song:  I have two reasons for my name.  The first is after a character from the BBC series Dr. Who.  The second is from this lyric from the Van Morrison song Crazy Love 





"I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles
And the heaven's open every time she smiles
And when I come to her that's where I belong
Yet I'm running to her like a river's song"

Rex is our March 25, 2017 Pup of the Week

Humans often say they would give up their lives for we dogs, but often the reverse is true.  We dogs put ourselves in harm’s way for our humans even when that threat comes from a gun. Our pup of the week, Rex, is one of those dogs.

Sixteen-year-old Javier Mercado was home alone with his two-year-old German Shepherd Rex at their Des Moines Iowa home.  When burglars broke into the house, Javier grabbed Rex and hid in the closet. But the Shepherd knew there were dangerous intruders inside the house, and it was his duty to protect the occupant.

Rex escaped from the closet, ran downstairs and tried to attack the burglars, but he was overpowered and savagely beaten.  The Shepherd retreated back upstairs to the closet while the criminals went room by room trashing the house room by room. Finally, they arrived in the room where Rex hid with Javier.

The beaten dog found the strength to attack the intruders again.  Rex was shot four times in the neck, knee, and leg. The police, who had been called by Javier, were descending upon the house.  As the sirens grew closer, the criminals fled. When the officers found Rex, they presumed he had passed.

Rex was taken to the hospital where he was stabilized.  He was in surgery for several hours and then received round the clock care until his condition stabilized.   If the story was not cruel enough while the family was visiting Rex their house was burglarized again. Rex’s parents are planning to move out of the neighborhood.

But the Mercado family also learned that there is kindness to match the evil in the world.  They started a Go Fund Me page to pay for Rex’s medical care. They asked for $10,000 and received $60,000.  They are giving the extra money to other families who are in debt to their veterinarians.

Finally, Rex and his owner walked out of the hospital.  Rex only had a slight limp and a cone to show for his ordeal.  

But there was more going on with the hero.  He began to show signs of suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder something that is seldom recognized in dogs.   He jumped if there are any sudden movements around him, he barked at strangers who come into the house, and he is obsessed with his owner’s feet, always watching and barking at them because he had repeatedly been kicked during his assault.

Rex is now has a behavior consultant monitoring him.  She suggested medication for anxiety and Rex being positively stimulated to help ease the stressful memories.  They hope with that, and time, he will fully recover.

He will certainly get the love.

The idea that dogs need help after traumatic events can only make dogs’ lives better. People who rescue dogs know their pet has suffered in the past and work hard to get them over that trauma.  Thanks to Rex’s heroism, and the publicity he has received the idea that dogs need emotional support just as much as humans do. Recognizing that may help dogs throughout the world.


That makes Rex a hero on many levels.

Ask Aunt Foley

Dear Aunt Foley:  What is going on with all this snow?  We can’t take anymore. Please make it stop.  - Geordie.

Dear Geordie:  I am sad to admit that the recent March storms may be partially my fault.  My good friends Max and Baron have not experienced snow during two winters with their parents.  I have desperately tried to change this by seeding clouds with water and cold then spinning them towards Max and Baron’s Maryland home.  The result has been no snow for them and 1100 feet of snow for everyone else Thankfully, on Wednesday they got their snow, and I can stop seeding clouds.  Mission accomplished.

Dear Aunt Foley:  Is there any purpose to St Patrick’s Day except our parents making us dress up?  Ruby the Airedale.  

Dear Ruby:  St Patrick’s Day is a phony holiday because our parents still have to work and there is no big meal where people drop food on the ground that we get to eat.  But our parents do like to dress us up, like on Halloween, or St Valentine’s Day, two other holidays where our parents do not get a day off. At least we likely get to treats on those days.  On St Patrick’s Day, we get bupkis except for role reversal. Our parents throw up and pee on the floor, and we have to clean it. Out of all the phony holidays St. Patrick’s Day is on the bottom of my list. (Then again, my breed does hail from Yorkshire which may make me a wee bit bias.)

Dear Aunt Foley:  A landscaper was supposed to come to our house and do work.  He has said he would be here several times and has not appeared.  Why are humans so unreliable? Sabrina.

Dear Sabrina:  Your Mommy needs to ask anyone she hires to do work at her house one important question.  Do you own a dog? If the answer is no, then don’t hire them because people who own dogs are much more reliable than people who do not.  Dog owners have to feed us and take us out on a regular schedule, so they are much better with time and obligations. Also having a dog makes a person more likable.  Your Mom needs to put a sign on the door that says Non-dog owners need not apply.

Dear Aunt Foley:  We found a gopher turtle in our yard.  Is it dangerous? Tashi, Tiara, and Trixie.

Dear Tashi, Tiara, and Trixie:  Normally I would say the turtle is harmless.  But recently stupid humans have started to feed puppies to turtles.  You don’t have to worry about the turtle, but stupid humans are a greater threat.  There is no reason to be afraid of flying on a plane, especially if you are like me and have your own wings, but there is a reason to be afraid humans are either going to kill you or send you to North Korea by accident.  I think non-pet owners should have to wear a tattoo on their foreheads with a dog with an X through it, so we know they are a danger and, if we don’t see the tattoo, we will know we are safe.