River and the Monolith

 

Last week, after River awoke and did her business, she went into Pocket’s kitty condo to check on her monolith.  It was still standing in the middle of her living room.  River Song patted it and turned to see an angry Pocket glaring at her.  “You said I would only have the monolith in my condo for a week; that was four months ago.  I need to put up my Christmas tree.  I want the monolith gone.”

    River grumbled to herself and left the condo.  She was mad, but deep down, she knew Pocket was right.  Now, she was perplexed.  What does one do with an unwanted monolith?  River went on the Internet for suggestions. 

    River decided that the best place for her monolith was in the California desert.  No one went there, and it would be safe.  She told Pocket of her plans and that she needed assistance.  Pocket didn’t want to cooperate, but she did wish the damn thing was out of the condo, so she agreed to help River move it to the computer, upload it, and then download it in California and plant it where it would never be found.

    That night, after bedtime, River and Pocket snuck out from under the covers, entered her condo, removed the monolith, and carried it out, with River repeatedly yelling “pivot.”  They uploaded it to the desert, left it there, and came home exhausted.  

    After a week of silence, Pocket thought that she could put the monolith out of mind.  One morning, while checking the news on her I-Paw, she was shocked by what she saw.  She showed it to River, who was equally amazed.  The monolith had been discovered, and a big mystery was ongoing about how it got there.  Pocket hoped someone would come up with a good lie about it because people would never believe the truth.  

    River said that she had to remove the monolith before it fell into the wrong hands.  She said America was too full of conspiracy nuts to be a safe place for her monolith.  She told Pocket they would be moving it to Romania that night.  Pocket was upset.  She didn’t want to go to South America.  

    The duo waited until everyone was asleep and uploaded themselves first to California and then to Romania, where they planted River’s monolith in full belief that it would never be noticed.  Pocket didn’t tell River, but she thought the monolith was more trouble than it was worth.

    Three days later, Pocket saw on the news that the monolith had been discovered in Romania.  “My God!” River reacted.  “Some days, you can’t hide a monolith.”

    She told Pocket they needed to retrieve the monolith.  “Maybe whoever finds it will just drive it back here,” Pocket suggested.

    “Where were you when they passed out brains?” River asked. 

    “I was getting an extra helping of cute,” she said.  “It has served me well.”

    That night, they moved the monolith again, this time to the Utah desert.  “It should be safe there,” River assured Pocket when they got home.

    It wasn’t.  A day later, Pocket read that the monolith has been removed.  “The Christians got it,” Pocket told River.  “They replaced it with a cross.”  

    “Just what the world needs,” River said.  “Another cross.”

    There were reports that the Christians treated River’s monolith poorly as they dragged it through the desert.  “I am concerned about it,” River said.  “It never hurt anyone.   She probably never saw it coming.  No one expects the Ogden Inquisition.”

That was when River and Pocket decided to save the monolith from the Christians.  They were able to find where the Utah Christians were headquartered.  It stuck out like a Mormon temple in Manhattan.   The duo uploaded themselves to Utah prepared for adventure and daring Do.  When they reached their destination, they found River's monolith leaning against a rusty dumpster.   Moved by her sister's attachment to the metal pole, Pocket agreed to allow the monolith back in her kitty condo.

Knowing that Pocket did not like having a monolith in her kitty condo, the girls reached a compromise. The monolith would be called Pocket's Festivus Pole. She loves the holidays, and the pole gives her a reason to celebrate year-round.

I think if they called it a Festivus Pole from the beginning, none of this would have happened.

Wordless Wednesday

 

Beat This Caption

Oh no!  That stupid groomer painted my nails pink.

Monday Question

Do you have a stocking, an ornament on the tree, or any other Christmas decoration that represents you?

 

Foley Monster's Tales From Rainbow Bridge: Tango Goes Home and Becomes Whole

 

When a dog loses a limb or an eye, the missing body part arrives at the Bridge where it waits to be reunited with the dog it left. When a pup gets older and starts to combat senility, the bits of their brain that stopped working also go to the Bridge.  These brain cells slowly take on the form of the dog they once belonged to. The more brain cells are lost, the clearer the apparition becomes. When this happens, it often means that the mortal who belongs to the cells will soon arrive at the Bridge to be made whole.

    Lately, while our friend Tango has struggled with senility on the mortal side, his brain cells were forming a perfect copy of his body, waiting for him to finally let go, dip into the River of Life, come to Rainbow Bridge, and be made whole again. 

    Even though Tango’s lucid moments were becoming more infrequent, the ones he experienced made him yearn for more time with his mom, their pack of three dogs, and three auxiliary members belonging to their mom’s boyfriend.  Tango still had a lot to teach his siblings and his mom, who he knew needed him much.

    But, when he tried to teach, his thoughts  became cloudy, and he made a muck of things.  His mom sat him down and told him that, while she appreciated his hard work and devotion, it was time for him to go.  He had given everything he had to her and the pack.  It was time for him to be whole again. 

    His devoted grandpa took tango’s brain cells, now an angel, mainly devoted to the little dog. When word spread that Tango would be arriving, Grandpa brought the “shadow” Tango that he had been protecting to Hobo’s Landing for the reunion. 

    Moma Lisa has had dogs throughout her life, and many of them are now at the Bridge.  Tango’s angel siblings learned of his arrival and were standing next to me as I prepared to swear him in, ready to live up to the pack name “The Wild Ones” and make Tango’s arrival one we would remember forever.  

    We saw the brave little dog climbing out of the River.  He had yet to retrieve his missing brain cells, and his mind was still a couple of steps behind.  We had to yell to get his attention.  When he saw the angels, he shook his head, trying to clear it.  Then he recognized himself, realized that the body contained his missing brain cells, and he happily ran towards it.  

    He ran up the stairs, and his grandpa let go of the faux  Tango.  They ran into one another and became one.  Tango stopped, saw everyone, and recited Pi to the fifteenth decimal point.  When you get your brain cells back, you often get a rush of knowledge. 

    Not only was Tango mentally sound again, but all the aches and pains that he had accumulated in his long life melted away.  He was young, smart, and ready to play, which is good because his pack mates, who were now angels, jumped on him and began to chase him all over the Bridge.

    I thought they would go on forever, but finally, Tango joined me to be sworn in and immediately went to work as his mom’s angel.  He knows in these troubled times; every person needs as many angels that they can get.  And now Momma Lisa has one that is, at least temporarily, a newly minted genius. 

    While Tango’s mom is saddened over his passing, she is happy that he is whole again and no longer suffering.  Parents will take on all the pain in the world so their kids won’t have a moment's discomfort. That is what letting us go to the Bridge is about.

Tales From Rainbow Bridge: Aunt Laura and Her Pack Are Finally Home Again

 

 We dogs do not do well when our parents out of the house.  An hour can seem like months.  I can’t comprehend what it’s like to be left alone for a day.  Pokey, Maggie, and Toby had to wait five months for their mom, Aunt Laura, to arrive home.  I don’t think I could survive that wait with my sanity intact.  On Wednesday, after a five-month hospital and rehab stay, Aunt Laura was finally reunited with her pups.  On that day, Pokey, Maggie, and Toby experienced joy unparalleled in the dog world.  

    The three dogs never lost faith that they would be reunited with their precious mom, even when things looked especially dark.

    Aunt Laura, while in the hospital, was diagnosed with a severe case of pneumonia.  She slipped into a coma.  The doctors were not optimistic.  Aunt Laura’s many friends in the online dog world rallied to her side, none more so than the Boy’s mom Barbara in Illinois who promised Laura if anything happened to her, she would take her babies.  

    Aunt Laura’s friends raised money to transport her dogs from Massachusetts to Barbara’s house.  The day of their departure was imminent.  If Aunt Laura did not show signs of improvement soon, her babies would be living halfway across the country.  The many angels, who owe their forever homes to Laura, who has been a critical cog in the Northeast rescue transport for years , fought their way into her dreams and stressed to her if she didn’t wake up soon, her babies would, at least temporarily, become part of another pack. 

    Alone, we angels are not very powerful, but when we join forces, we can perform absolute miracles, and that is what the rescue angels did with Aunt Laura.  They helped her awaken and begin her on the long road of recovery which would lead her to her babies.  

    We angels tried to keep the Lunn Pack abreast of their mom’s condition.  When Aunt Laura was at her worst,we tempered her prognosis, but the dogs sensed the truth.  If they were single pups, or even in a pack of two, the worry might have consumed them, but they had the power of three, and that helped them keep the faith

    Pokey, the pack leader and the oldest, did not show his siblings how worried he was.  At 16, and facing his own medical problems, he knew he might never see his mother again.  But, Pokey begged and borrowed heartbeats and prayed to his angels that neither he nor his mom went to the Bridge before their reunion.  Against all odds, Pokey was waiting at home for his mom when she arrived.  He was the first to greet her.  

    Her dogs were the main reason why Aunt Laura miraculously improved and returned home.  I don’t know if she would have survived without the goal of being home with her babies inspiring  her.  Pokey, Maggie, and Toby held the light at the end of the tunnel that Aunt Laura trekked towards to find her way home.  The three dogs shone a very bright light indeed.  

    The Lunn Pack, over the five months of being away from their mom, never lost faith that they would be reunited with her.  

    Looking back on her condition in September, it is an absolute miracle that Aunt Laura is back home with her babies.  There are many combinations that make a miracle:  None are better than love, faith, prayers, angels, and dogs.     

River ate the Votes: By Pocket Dog

 

When Foley was a mortal pup, and you were at work, she would get on the computer and upload herself somewhere exotic and have a little adventure. 

Occasionally she would take me, but I am nervous under normal circumstances. Uploading me into a strange place turned my insides into water.  I know how to upload myself independently I but have no desire to implement my knowledge and travel.

River is a huge news junkie.   She is fascinated by the human condition and wants to immerse herself in all of their problems. When she heard about the controversy surrounding the presidential election, she told me she would love to see the counting process first hand. 

I had a rare moment when I wanted to appease my sister.  I dusted off my uploading skills. I waited till we were alone, and then I hopped on the computer and uploaded us to a counting room in Michigan.

We found a chaotic scene that frightened me. There were arguments between humans everywhere. Some votes were allowed, and others were disallowed. To River, it was history unfolding before her eyes; after five minutes, I was ready to leave.

Usually, dogs would not have been let inside the counting room, but we are tiny, and the pole workers’ attention was drawn elsewhere. I got distracted watching a white man and a black woman come to blows regarding matching signatures.  I grew bored with the altercation and turned to ask River if she wanted to leave.   That is when I noticed my big little sister was no longer standing behind me.

I swore to myself and began looking for River. I found her behind one of the counting machines. She was chewing on something.  Iwas shocked to see she was eating ballots.

"My God, River, what are you doing?" I yipped.

"I missed lunch," River answered.  "I saw these and figured I could snack."

River likes to shred tissues and anything else made of paper. But she never ate important documents before. I had to find out whose votes she swallowed.

The only way I knew how to determine whose votes River had eaten was to have her burp in my face.  The first burp tasted like Wintergreen, and I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking River had eaten all the green party’s vote, which did not affect the election.  

Her second burp smelled like simple vanilla.  “Those must be the Biden votes,” I said.   “I'm not worried.  He's far enough ahead that he won't miss a few ballots; at least you didn't eat any.

River burped, and I got hit with a wave of black market expired Cheetos. These were the Trump votes, which meant we were in trouble.

Trump had not only hired pole watchers but pole smellers who are trained to detect the Cheetoo like the scent of consumed Trump ballots. A skinny man with glasses and a thin red tie acting as a Trump pole sniffer pointed at River and yelled that she ate two hundred thousand Trump votes.  The number was a gross exaggeration.  River could barely finish off a roll of toilet paper.

The watchers looked like they wanted to rip River open and find their ballots. I told River to follow me. We moved sprightly for dogs pushing their senior years.  We dodged and wiggled under people's legs. It is hard to pick River up when she's going somewhere where she wants to be. You can imagine how easily she avoided her pursuers.   

Someone had left a computer unattended, and we both jumped on a chair then onto the computer. I furiously typed in the codes, and just before River was grabbed, we were uploaded back to our house.

The next morning the President was on Twitter complaining about dogs who have eaten millions of his votes. He hired poop watches to go into every neighborhood to collect new crap and search it for votes. “The dogs are so unfair to me,” the President said, “I have done more for dogs than any president with the exception of Rutherford B.  Hayes.”

Two days after River caused an election calamity, she pooped out three stools, each wrapped in a ballot. I mailed it to the Trump campaign.

Crap votes in the mail seem only fitting at this point.