Pocket Relates How She Survives the Shutdown

Thank God the government shutdown has concluded. I can rest easier knowing the government agencies I rely upon are in place again.

I can safely eat knowing the people who inspect my crappy kibble and beloved treats are back at work. Every morning during the shutdown I questioned what crap was in my crappy kibble. It caused tummy unrest. Additionally, I sometimes snack on stray River stools which meant I was eating crap produced by unregulated crap. This shutdown was complicated.

The weather has been crazy since government regulation ended. In the space of three days we had rain, then snow, then ice, then temperatures in the 50s and then back to cold. I don't know how we survived without government controlled weather.

When I stopped by the vets for a simple rabies shot, there were lines like you have never seen. Usually, when I am just getting a shot, I am in and out of the vets in five minutes. This time I had to wait a half hour next to a shivering chihuahua. That little dog freaked me out. I am going to instruct my mama to schedule my annual checkup before February 15th, so I am not stuck waiting in the lobby with filthy animals infected with unspeakable diseases.

During the shutdown, the southern border of our crawlspace was susceptible to penetration by kitties trying to steal our heat. River and I did our best to sniff the grates and bark in hopes of scaring the infiltrators, but this method of securing our border is haphazard at best.

River and I have not been for a walk since this mishegas began. I don't know if it was the road conditions, the weather, or lazy parents but the shutdown interfered with daily strolls.

Because there was no NFL regulation, the Patriots are in the Super Bowl again. How did this happen?  I had been told that there would be one, possibly two, Patriot playoff games during the Shutdown which would cause loud and tense Sundays, and make my tummy flip flop,  but now, not only will there be a third game, but it is the loudest, most tense one of them all. Not only that but, with the game on, I can't watch Outlander. I can't sleep Sunday night without checking on Jamie and Claire.  Is anyone more dismayed that the Patriots are in the Super Bowl than I?

Since the shutdown began, mommy has found some dry pee stains on the floor.  I don't know how they got there, but I am blaming Sum Udder Dog. One good thing about the shutdown is that mommy could not send the pee out for DNA testing.  Our days of free peeing in the house may have ended now that the Shutdown is over.

I worry with Ranger Rick and his co-workers not reporting for duty that the squirrel breeding has gone unchecked meaning there are caravans of squirrels forming in our national parks planning to invade our yards and trees. If we can't control squirrel infiltration, then we don't have a home.

Now that the temporary shutdown has become a momentary” turn on” let's hope it becomes a permanent one and this little Yorkie can live in peace.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

Hi Dad. I brought some friends home with me I found at the park. I hope you have enough kibble.

Monday Question

Do your parents have a special name for you when they get angry with you?

Pocket:  My parents add a Dog to my name.  Pocket Dog! they say, but the annunciate it.  "Pawwwkittt Dawg!"

River:  They usually only call me River but if they are mad they call me River Song and if they are really mad it is Miss River Song.  

Gordo is our January 27 2019 Pup of the Week

Like our humans, we dogs are guilty of checking out Facebook when we should be working. I like to see dogs and their parents doing mundane activities:  A walk, a car trip, snuggle time. It reminds me of better days when my humans and I undertook similar endeavors.

One of my favorite profiles is as on Momma Teresa’s and Gordo’s page. No matter what they did together, even if it was sitting around the house, they did so happily.  The pictures were proof of the joy the duo felt just being together.

One day last week Momma Teresita awoke planning to have another fun-filled day with her heart dog. She found that Gordo was breathing heavily and his stomach and legs were swollen. She took him to the vet who said Gordo was suffering from congestive heart failure. There were treatments, but it was doubtful Gordo would improve. HIs mom asked him if he wanted to go to the Bridge and he put his head on her knee. Momma Teresita knew their song together was ending.

Like a giant maple tree that is uprooted by a sudden storm and abruptly transformed from a glorious living creature to an empty spot in the sky Momma Teresita’s and Gordo’s time together had come to an abrupt end leaving both mom and dog existing like shell shocked soldiers desperately trying to find their way back to friendly lines.

For Momma Teresita, every dawn brings another reminder of her loss.  There is food dropped on the floor with no one to eat it; treats found in a coat pocket with no one to reward — little gut punches of pain and memory that rise up every day.

Gordo followed the usual path a new angel takes:  From the water to the shore to the Bridge to the stairs and finally into the immortal world, and also from confusion to disbelief, to sadness then determination.

I saw Godro climb from the River of Life. He shook off the water, looked around, and began to cross the Bridge. He stopped, considering going back, but the Langoliers had eaten everything behind him forcing him forward.

Many cultures and religions have symbols of death.  In the dog world, it’s me. When Gordo saw me with my black book, he sadly nodded.  “What happened?” he asked with a tear in his eye.

Often dogs, like Gordo, who were suddenly snatched from the mortal side don’t have memories of their passing. I reminded him about his last hours with his mom. “This is wrong, I don’t belong here, you have to let me go back to momma!” Gordo cried.
I told him that, sadly he did belong here. Time comes for all of us and this time it has come for him.

“No,” Gordo insisted. “My momma will be lost without me. I can’t let her live brokenhearted. There is no one there to clean her floor or eat her biscuits.”

“Yes, she can,” I told him. “It will be hard but every angel has a mommy who went down grief’s dark, lonely road and they will help your mommy find her way out.  She is a strong lady. And we are going to teach you lots of tricks so you can help her.”

“You promise you will teach me how to make mommy better?” Gordo asked.
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I assured him.  “Maybe you will help your mom find a new dog to fill that horrible hole she has in her chest from when she gave you her heart.”

“I think, after a time, she would like that, ” Gordo said thoughtfully.  “I am going to start looking tomorrow. It is going to take a lot of searching to find a dog who is worthy of my mom.  The pup also has to be worthy of my biscuits.”

Gordo and I walked towards the Doggyspace village where he would find a home specially built for him.  From there he could watch over his mom and plan his dream visits. He wasn’t happy, nor was he sad. He was accepting, and determined, which is the best we can hope for on a dog’s first night at the Bridge
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Perhaps happiness will come tomorrow.  Sometimes happiness is something out of focus that we can’t see or a smell that we can’t quite place.  It is nearby, but elusive. I hope Gordo finds it someday.


Then he can tell me where it is.

Boo and the Price of Fame

I was sleeping in bed when I was awoken by the sounds of a hard rain falling on my roof and a soft scratching coming from the window screen.

I rightly figured the rain was caused by the passing of a well-loved pup. I wondered what dog could have prompted such an outpouring of tears. The scratching remained a mystery that could only be solved by me sitting up in bed and yelling “Who Dat?”

“Foley Monster,” a voice squeaked, “I had to come to the Bridge incognito because I was afraid my notoriety would cause a stampede of angels to greet me. If you could please administer my oath and help me, I would be very appreciative.”

Great, just what I needed, another little dog with delusions of grandeur. I opened the front door and let the little guy inside. I could barely see his face because his long hair was soaked. I gave him a towel and a hairdryer and let him fix himself up.

He was finished drying, and his hair was poofed up I recognized him. “I know you,”  I said. “You’re Boo the Pomeranian. I've seen your pictures on Facebook and Instagram.”

“Yes,” he said sheepishly. “I guess people thought I was cute which caused me to become the world's most famous dog. It's not something I ever wanted.”

“Well, one of the most famous,” I said trying to hide my jealousy.  “I got a blog, and the most popular posts have been read by somewhere between five and ten thousand people.”

“That's great. My Facebook page has 17.5 million-dollar likes but between 5 and 10,000 is good too. You should be proud of yourself.”

17.5 million my tail! I reminded myself it didn't matter who was famous and who was almost famous, it was my duty to give Boo the Angel oath, which I did, and then I helped him acclimate to his new surrounding at the Bridge.

I told Boo it would be best for him to wait until dawn to make his first appearance public appearance.  He sat in my rocking chair and told me about the circumstances that brought him to the Bridge. He liked being a famous dog.  He got to go places most dogs could only imagine. He met people from all over the globe. But what he loved most was the time with his brother Buddy, who Boo could escape from all the trappings of fame with, and just be a dog.

 “When Buddy left us in 2017 I missed him so much my heart sped up, and I quickly began to burn through my remaining heartbeats. My grieving mom, who was the best parent in the world, had to let me live with Buddy again. Can you help me find him?”

I put an alert on The Angel Network asking for help from anyone who could find Buddy. I then made Bo a delicious cup of hot chocolate, something he had never been able to try before,  He was very appreciative.

We talked for 112 minutes until I heard the familiar sound of a tail slapping against my door. I opened it and saw my bestie Odie accompanied by another furry little Pom. When the dog saw Boo, it yipped in excitement and sped across the floor. Boo jumped down from the chair and gave his brother Buddy a long hug.  Then they began to run around my house barking loudly, nipping at one another, rolling up into one Pom ball, untangling and running again until Boo ran out the door followed by Buddy and they yipped loudly and bounced high until they were across the horizon. Odie, who never missed a good dog run, happily took off after them leaving me to clean up the mugs and the mess that the reunited rambunctious two caused.

As I did, I reflected on the price of fame. Certainly not more valuable than a good romp with a loved one.

Winter Has Come and River is Not Happy

I had a dream that became a memory  I was in Winterfell, home of the Stark family in “Game of Thrones.”  I was lying next to one of the dire-wolves who is sworn to protect his humans. “Winter is coming,” he said menacingly. I asked him what his winters were like.
“The undead rise and walk amongst us. They tear down the wall separating our lands. They fly across the sky riding undead dragons that breathe ice. They will not rest until we are all dead, and our newly reanimated corpses are fighting for them.” He let the horror settle over us before he asked how my winter was.

“It is cold.  My paws get wet when I go out. I even shiver.”

The dire wolf contemplated me for several minutes.  “You win,” he said while putting a paw on my shoulder.

The night before my dream we had our first winter storm of the season. It had been cold, windy and snowing all day. Before he took me out Daddy put on his sweater, his jacket, and his hat. He leashed me and we walked on to the enclosed porch. We passed my jacket hanging on its hook. I looked at it. “You won't be needing that,” Daddy said.  “We aren't going to be out long”

We aren't going out for long? If the length of time we were to be out was the issue why did you have to put on a jacket, or sweater a coat, or a hat, or gloves?  I'm the one going out there against her will. You’re going to be you just standing there holding the leash. Why do you get to be warm?

There is nothing colder than snow on warm paws.  I did my pee business immediately and turned to go back inside. “Hold on River,” Daddy said “you didn't poop last night, and you produced two bags full this morning” (don't pretend you're not impressed), “I don't want you to be uncomfortable tonight, so you need to poop.”

Uncomfortable? I was standing bared pawed and unjacketed in 3 inches of snow which was still falling.  When did my level of comfort become a concern? That's it! I called a wild cat poop strike. We stayed outside until he, in the coat, the sweater, the hat, and the gloves got cold.  I tell you it's a dog's life.

The next morning Pocket went out first.  She came back in cold, wet and shivering.  I asked her how it was, and all she did was shake her head forlornly.

When it was my turn to go out, I knew it would be record-breaking freezing because Daddy grabbed my coat. When he tried to put it on, I kept pulling my legs out of the holes just to frustrate him.  We went outside, and I walked into an episode of Deadliest Catch during Opilio season: Nothing but cold, rain and ice. Like those crab men I stepped out to do my business but unlike them I was about to take a crap on the deck.  I quickly did my business but kept some poop inside so I could release a healthy quarter pounder with cheese onto the emergency poop pads in the kitchen while my parents ate breakfast. I'll leave a trail of it at the hallway from the pads onto the wood floor which camouflages my little dumplings increasing the chance that they will be smooshed.  Upon completion, I will ask: “Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

Vengeance will be mine saith the Griffon.