At Long Last Pocket Gets Groomed

I have been walking in a daze for weeks.  My hair has grown so long I can’t see two feet in front of me.  When I curl up, I am sickened by the smell, and then I realize that smell is me!  I am two inches taller because my nails have not been cut in three months.  My anal glands are packed like a family of six going on vacation in a VW bug. Every day I hope the groomer will open, and by sunset, when I hadn’t got as much as a snip, I pray that tomorrow I can smell the sweet scent of dog shampoo fresh from the bottle. 
    My mom has tried to bathe me.  I give her credit for the attempt, but when J.Lo goes out on the town, she doesn’t want her mom styling her. She has a whole team.  If J. Lo went this long without her team working on her, she wouldn’t be dating A-Rod. She would be regulated to a random Knick.
    On Wednesday morning, I saw no sign that the day would be any different than the 80 days that preceded it.  We ate breakfast, my parents showered and prepared for another fascinating day of doing nothing.  Then Daddy got the dusty car seats out of the closet.  I was the first to see them and began to bark like an intact dog who finally smelled a lollipop in heat.  River followed the sound of my yips, and she began to bark too.  We were going somewhere, and there was only one place we ever go to.
    We were placed in our car carriers. They are like backpacks that are secured in the back seat.  As soon as I am in one, I try to worm my way out.  There is nothing worse than a half stuck Pocket on the freeway.
    It took us twenty minutes of barking every time we slowed down, me wiggling, River grunting, Mommy telling us to be quiet, and the back window getting fogged up before we arrived at the groomer.  Mommy and Daddy struggled to get us out of our carriers because they were trying to remove us from the top, and we insisted on going out the bottom even if there is no exit that way. My parents usually carry us in, but one of the groomers came out to get us.  Then I realized they were all wearing masks, and I panicked that we weren’t getting groomed but had been recruited to be in some sort of posse. 
    We were placed in a cage together while the groomers worked on dogs who were as equally grotesque.  The water flowed brown from dirt and who knew what else.  Finally, it was my turn.  First, I received a warm bath, with professional hands that knew how to softly massage my hair and measure the perfect mixture of shampoo and water.  Once I smelled beautiful, I got my hair cut.  I could see the world again, and it looked….well, at least I could see.  Then my nails were trimmed, so I no longer made an infuriating click-clack sound when I walked. It took less than a half-hour for me to transform back to my beautiful state, far from the ragamuffin who had entered the establishment.  Then, it was Reiver’s turn, which took longer, because, as talented as they groomers are, they had less to work with.
    When we were both done, we were carried outside to what I thought would be meet my new posse we found our parents waiting for us.  They said how beautiful we were, which we knew, but it is nice to hear. Soon, we were in our car and on the way home, planning our walk around the neighborhood to bring joy to the embattled residents.
    Getting clean was our first step have to normal. We hope it spreads.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Capton

It's okay Mary, I will go to Prom with you and unlike Timmy I won't sniff your friends' butts

Monday Question

If there was a television or movie starring you what would it be called?
POCKET:  Little Pockets of Lover
RIVER SONG:  The Stare

Tweedles Finds Her Parents Two Special Gifts

Poor Tweedles barely has had a day’s rest since she arrived at the Bridge because of how her parents’ were suffering.  The pain that a soul feels when a loved one goes to the immortal side is equal to the amount of love the survivor held in their hearts for the one they lost.  For Tweedles’ parents, that was nearly their whole hearts.  For weeks after her passing, they existed like zombies with nothing living inside.  

    Tweedles visited her parents in their dreams, then as various winged creatures, and even as a ghost, but she could not break through her parents’ grief.  It didn’t seem that anything would work, except one.  She needed to find her parents, another dog who could start repairing their hearts.

    She interviewed hundreds of pups, some of them were in shelters, others waiting to be born.  Occasionally I would help her and point out dogs that I was sure her parents would love, but Tweedles had very specific traits she needed to see in her replacement, and no dog was meeting them, not even by half.

    I don’t like to tell another dog how they should be searching for their successor, but I did think Tweedles was too strict.  None of us can find the perfect dog to replace us; we all have to settle for close enough and hope, with our guidance, the dogs will improve after they join our pack.  But Tweedles would accept nothing less than the absolute perfect dog.  I told her it sounded like she needed a pup who was twice as good as the candidates she had interviewed.

    A look of realization came over Tweedle's face.  “That’s perfect!” she yelled.  She ran out of the house.  Honestly, I had no idea what she meant.

    But, I soon found out.  I saw Tweedles interviewing pairs of dogs.  I agreed, two dogs might be able to rebuild her parents’ hearts, but it was hard enough to get our humans to find the single dog we chose for them, getting them to pick the right two would be impossible.

Tweedles was confident.  She had a unique connection with her parents.  It was hard for him to give them comfort after she came to the Bridge because the wall of grief caused by her passing was too strong, but now she would be approaching them with a new tactic, with two new partners to triple-team the pain.

She found the perfect duo in pre-born classes.  Like her, they were pugs, and almost as adorable as she was.  They are named Mooki and Biddie.  They were filled with love, snuggles, devotion, and cuteness.  It was the perfect recipe to help slay the grief monster.

It took a lot of dream persuading with both her parents to get them to open their house to two trouble-making baby pugs but, after nights of dream visits, she wore down their reserves. Even if they didn’t realize they would do so, one morning, they uttered the same thought; it was time to open their house to a new baby, a double in fact.  

Many people would think that people her parents’ age would be crazy to take in two puppies, and the duo, have certainly kept their parents busy, by crawling into every crevice, having boundless energy, and creating the two things that conquer grief every time:  Love and staying active.

Tweedles is delighted when she watches her two chargers with her parents.  The grief they had carried for so long was easing in her heart too.  Like all dogs, she feels what her parents are feeling, and the sadness is turning to joy.

Finally, Tweedles is happy at the Bridge, and she can rest, knowing the long projet of starting to rebuild her parent’s hearts is over.  

She had found two great carpenters in Mooki and Biddi.

Let the rebuilding begin.

Arthur Goes from the Jungle to the Couch

Personally, I have always found dogs to be a quiet animal, who is happiest sitting with it’s human and thinking of grand adventures, but some dogs need to have adventures for real.

    Dogs often take on the personality of their humans.  If you belong to a musician, you are likely to sit around and get high all day; if your parent is an accountant, you learn to lie under the computer table and are always uptight, and if your parent is an athlete, a sedentary lifestyle is only a dream.

    I don’t know if I could have put up with being the dog living with someone like Swedish athlete Mikael Lindford, who doesn’t do the things I like the most, like sleep, take leisurely meals, and enjoy his downtime.  He likes to climb, bike, trek, and compete.  Not the life for a Yorkie.  

    Mikael never showed any interest in having a pet.  Some humans are like that, and there is nothing wrong with it.  If they want to live a life without joy, then who am I to judge?  He met a woman named Helena and made her his wife, and they had a beautiful daughter.  It looked like he would be dogless his whole life.   

    Mikael, for some strange reason, enjoys endurance racing through exotic areas, like the Ecuadorian jungle, where one day he was passing by venomous creatures, through impenetrable trails, and over rocky ground, when he saw something that didn’t belong.

    It was a beautiful dog, mud crusted, thin, and weary.  Mikael was used to seeing wild dogs on his races.  They usually got in the way and begged for food.  But this dog just looked at Mikael lovingly, without raising even a bark.  Mikael went to the dog and shared a meatball with him.  

    Mikeal began to force his way through the mud, water, and thick forest. An exhausted Arthur never left Mikael’s side.  Arthur knew he had found his human.  They crossed the finish line together.  Mikael had never had a better partner.  He examined Arthur and found the dog had serious wounds and teeth damage.   He swore to take good care of his partner and bring him home.  Immediately he hit with two obstacles harder to navigate than the jungle.  Ecuadorian authorities did not want to let Arthur leave the country, and the Swedes did not want to let him in the country.  Mikael patiently dealt with the bureaucratic red tape from both countries and persuaded them to allow Arthur to go to Sweden.  For Arthur, the worst part of the entire endeavor was the scary plane ride.  

    Once they landed, Arthur met Mikael’s family, who instantly fell in love with him.  Arthur finally had his forever home, thousands of miles from his place of birth.   Mikael never knew how many angel dogs worked on bringing these unusual souls together and kept them that way.

    Arthur got life-saving surgery.  When he awoke and did not see Mikael, he began to howl, thinking he had lost the dad he had worked so hard to be with.  Then he saw Mikael, who began to pet him and speak softly.  A relieved Arthur settled down immediately.

    When he recovered, Arthur began to go on adventures with Mikael, always keeping him company, even on the toughest courses. The difference is that no matter where they run now, they are running home together.

River Gets A Lesson in Social Distancing

I had no idea how regulated dogs were on their walks until I met Tori, a black poodle, who works for the Woof Health Organization. She walks with her mother, Nancy, to different neighborhoods to police how dogs are social distancing. 

    I encountered her when my Dad was walking Pocket and me. When I saw Tori, I began barking loudly. “Stop right there!” Tori snapped at me. “Don’t you realize there is a pandemic going on?  We dogs have been asked to stop the spread of the virus, so the veterinarians' do not get overrun.  And when you see me, you start barking.  Don’t you know when you bark droplets of your spit go into my mouth?”

    I defended myself.  I explained that I never leave the village and don’t approach other dogs until now, that my mommy doesn’t go out except for supplies and when she does, she wraps herself in a full-body condom so nothing can touch her.  My Daddy does the same, but he has his own condom.  That isn’t something you should share. Because of these facts, I explained, I could not be carrying the virus.

    “Regardless,” Tori said.  “We all must act like we have the virus to make sure we don’t spread the disease, because if you are sick and don’t go by the guidelines, then when our mom pets you, she gets sick, and BAM!  She’s dead.  If you cannot abide by the rules, you won’t be allowed to go on walks.”   Obsequious Pocket stood behind Daddy and acted as is she was the perfect dog when we know she breaks the rules more than anyone.  She has learned to do it when no one is paying attention.  Pockets are crafty.

    Tori told me to keep walking and pay her no attention. Like that was possible.  I buried my nose in the grass, sniffing something deep below the soil.  “Stop it!” Tori barked.  I gave her my resting bitch face, but she wasn’t intimidated.  “When you sniff you take in all the germs left by those who sniffed before you,” Tori barked.  “Some of them are feral.  They haven’t even had their shots.  You sniff something here, and you go home, your mom pets you, she gets sick and BAM!, she’s dead.  Is that what you want?”

    I growled that it wasn’t.  Tori heard a noise behind her and turned around.  I took that opportunity to sniff her butt.  Tori whipped back, “Did you just butt sniff me without permission?”  I blamed it on instinct.  “First of all, you violated my rights.  You #MeToo-ed me.  And butt-sniffing during a pandemic?  Do you know what comes out of my butt?  Poop.  You know what poop has?”  Germs.  You sniff my butt, go home, your mom pets you, she gets sick and BAM! She’s dead. Is that what you want?”  Wow, Tori knew how to spoil a pleasant walk.

    I said I didn’t want my mom to get sick. What I really wanted was for Tori to go away.  Then she called Pocket, a good dog for not sniffing with me.  I snarled:  “The only reason she didn’t sniff your ass is that she needs a step ladder to get up there.” 
    We began to walk again, and I stopped to pee. 

    “What are you doing?” Tori yelled.  “Your pee is full of germs.  Some other dog smells your pee, goes home, makes their mom sick, and BAM! She’s dead.  Is that what you want?”

    I gave her a most lethal stare but could not break Tori’s accusing look.  “Fine!” I yipped, then turned for home pulling Pocket behind me.  As soon as I got there, I pooped on the floor.  I couldn’t do it outside.  Tori would have said I was spreading germs, some dog would get them, their mom would pet them, and BAM! They would be dead.  

    “River, you were just outside!”  Mommy scolded me.  But what was I to do? When you can’t poop inside or out, it’s not the pandemic that will get you but the gas.

    I know now the best way to social distance. I am never leaving the house.