The November 21, 2010 pup of the week is brought to you by the number 12

Unfortunately, so many of us here at the Tanner Brigade have had that evil monster Cancer move in with us.  It sits in our living room while you watch TV, it sleeps in your bed, it sits in the back seat of your car when you travel, and, if it has nowhere to sits, it occupies the deep recesses of your mind.

The only way to eradicate this evil is for all traces of it to be removed from your body, then it slips away into the darkness, even though it retains the right to pop back into your mind at the least expected time.

When my Mom had the evil Cancer move in with us she found the greatest relief in talking with others.  When she retires she is planning on joining cancer support groups to help those who suffer.  Luckily she has never had a pup who has had cancer, but the same monster moves into your home when someone you love contracts this awful illness.

But some pups, and families, decide to take the road less traveled, and to face the monster silently, with no words of support from their friends.  Our good friend 12, who we have known forever, and has somehow never been honored with pup of the week, came out of the "C" closet this week, to not only tell us he had faced the monster, but had defeated it.

I have so much admiration for 12.  Cancer is such a horrible monster to fight.  To be brave enough, and to have parents brave enough, not to share it, and to put up a front that nothing is wrong is remarkable.  All of us here at the Brigade wish we had known.  We would have prayed, sent positive vibes, asked the angels at the bridge to do all they can (although I am sure they knew, and did their best), and 12 knew that, but he stoically stood alone with his parents, and they won, so way to go 12!

But now 12 is facing another monster C that has moved into his house without his permission.  This one is the dreaded cat.  His Mommy and Daddy took in a stray cat because they obviously went way over their Foleytini limit.  Then his parents learned that they were all in danger of getting a CTD (Cat transmitted disease.)   Now the cat is is isolation.  12 can smell it, can hear it, but can't get to it.  Oh the frustration.  This is such a problem even Aunt Foley doesn't have an answer.  It's like inviting the family over for Thanksgiving dinner, having the entire house smell like turkey, have chewing sounds piped in, and don't give them any food.

So hang in there 12.  You have beaten a bigger C then this rogue kitty.  Like your cancer it will be cured, and it will fade away (after Mommy finds a home for it.)  We know you are tough enough to face the big C and beat it, and we know you're big enough to beat the little C, which is why you're our pup of the week.

Great googa-booga balls we got a gift from Koly and Felix

Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! (Crunch, crunch, crunch) Oh, excuse me, these are so good,

Guess what? Guess what? Guess what? We got a package from Kolchak and Felix today. We were so exited Pocket peed herself a little (OK she does that when the sun comes up but still).

Mommy opened the package and it was a beautiful tin with all these doggies on it. "Open the tin, open the tin, open the tin, open the tin!" we said. Sometimes I think Mommy hears our excited words as "bark, bark, bark, bark, bark" but we can't concern ourselves with that.

Then Mommy slooooowwwly opened the tin because she does things like that sloooowwwwly because she doesn't want to break a nail and oh for God's sake woman open the tin!

She got it open, and she pulled out, in a clear plastic bag, the most wonderful thing I have ever seen. A bag of wonderful, crunchy, tasty, heavenly, great googa ooga balls.

Oh we wanted them right away. We were up on our back legs walking around, begging.

But the balls were in a plastic bag, and the bag had a twist on it, and Mommy had to untwist it: sloooowwwwly. Mommy's worst game is Twister, she would be the first out of a twist dance contest, she can't order a drink with a twist of lemon: oh the hell with the wordplay woman open the bag!

Finally she got the twist off. Then she took two great googa ooga balls from the bag and handed them to us. I opened my mouth, and despite my bad teeth (a blog which is forthcoming but keeps getting interrupted by things like great googa ooga bals), I put the whole ball in my mouth (there is nothing funny written here, sicko!) and bit down.

Oh my gosh. Not since before someone snatched away my ovaries have I sensed such joy. It was crunchy, it was peanut buttery, it was very refreshing. Great googs ooga balls are the greatest thing in the world. I love my Mom but she can't make treats like this, or open a jar of peanut butter.

So my biggest, largest, most heartfelt, thank you to Kolchak and Felix and their wonderful Mom. Mommy said that we can only have a couple a day because they are special but we're going to try to weasel in some more.

So now it's time to go back to our great googa ooga balls. (Crunch, crunch, yum, yum, lick, lick, cruch.)

So good, so good, so good.

Foley's new reality show: 90 and Dating

A week ago Mommy and Daddy had Mommy's brother and his wife over for Chinese food (loyal readers may remember this may have given Pocket a case of the runs.)

Since Pocket and I might as well face it we're addicted to laps, we both went paws up on our parents knees, with Mommy picking me up, and Daddy doing the same with Pocket and now we were part of the conversation.

But being well trained, polite dogs we just listened, and by doing so it gave me a million dollar idea, a show for TLC called 90 and dating.

Mommy's sister in law Charlotte lost her mother close to 20 years ago. Her Daddy remarried a year later (I believe he put in Christmas letter that the new wife awoke a fire in his loins) which did not sit well with his family.

This year, for the second time, he became a widow. After the funeral, he took home the book the mourners signed, and began searching the phone book for numbers to find wife number three,

It took awhile but he found a woman who lived independently and was not otherwise engaged. He asked her to meet him at a local restaurant for lunch. He got dressed to the nines and drove for his rendezvous, only to be found he was stood up.

He pulled out his cell phone with the high volume and the great big numbers. He called his next conquest to see why she was detained and the woman told him she thought she had been stood up since he never arrived to pick her up. He apologized for the mistake, and told her to stay there, her knight in shining armor would be there soon.

He rushed to her house, twice clicking over 30 mph, only to find the house deserted. He took out his cell phone with the really big number and dialed her again. She was at the restaurant wondering where he was.

It was then he realized his third marriage may be harder to achieve then the first two.

It also gave me the idea for my new show. Hattie Mae will you host? I think it will be a big hit.

Smoochy is our November 14, 2010 pup of the week

I have noticed many traits in humans that prove they are not as evolved as pups. One of them is their inability to patiently wait. Humans fidget, they pace, they check the bright digits in their electrical boxes, and, whenever what they are waiting on finally arrive they become angry with it for not appearing on their schedule.

Now us pups we do worry. We worry about our humans from the minute they leave the house (they are off leash for gosh sakes) to when they return home. If it is for a long period of time we might not eat, or sleep, we just vigilantly await our parents' return.

The reason that we are more evolved than our humans is when the person we are awaiting for arrives we don't meet them with anger or sadness, but with more joy than can be contained in even the largest pups' soul.

Which brings us to our pup of the week, one of the sweetest, funniest, most clever dogs we know, the one and only Smoochy.

I am sure that you have already read his blog, but to summarize it, Smoochy has a doggy door which he uses to do his business. He is a very good dog and would never go in the house. On Friday night he used the door and returned inside to be with Mom. To stop a dreaded chipmunk invasion she closed the door behind him.

She had to work early in the morning, and because she was exhausted from the night before, overslept and had to hurry through the morning, of course not forgetting to feed Smoochy, or give him some water.

Well her slave driving boss kept her late at work again and when she returned home Smoochy was his usual happy self, overjoyed to see her, squeaking Miss Giggles, and doing the dance of joy. Smoochy got an Applebee's hamburger. He did whine a bit but he still waited because he knew his Mom loved him and would tend to his needs as soon as she was able.

When she went into the bedroom, and saw the doggy door was shut, she realized that Smoochy had not peed for 16 hours, and, knowing that he was suffering, she began to cry as she opened the door. But Smoochy chose to lick his Mommy's tears then relieve himself and the only way he would go out is with her at his side, so he knew she was all right. He then set a record for the longest pee ever, which was broken a week later by 2,000 people getting off a Carnival Cruise ship.

So why is Smoochy pup of the week? Because while he was left alone for hours without a bathroom he didn't meet his Mom at the door with annoyance or anger like a human would have but with all the love his heart could hold. And even going 16 hours without a bathroom break he did not pee on the floor he waited for his Mom knowing it would be wrong. (Me? I would have peed after about 10 hours. Pocket? She wouldn't have lasted before Mommy got out of the driveway.) And, when finally given the chance to pee, he made sure his Mom wasn't sad before he did.

And behind every great Pup is a great Mom, who put this quote on her blog (and Smoochy even forgave her for hijacking his blog), which is a wonderful tribute to Smoochy and pups everywhere:

“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.”

Phil Dunphy gave Pocket diarrhea and the heaves

Oh hi. (Burp) It's Pocket (sound of wind breaking) I have had a terrible start to the week. Phil Dunphy made me puke in bed and gave me diarrhea.

For those of you who don't know Phil Dunphy is the bumbling Dad on a wonderful documentary show we watch called Modern Family about three families who don't own a dog. (I mean really how come no one on TV owns a dog. A basset hound for House? A Life Alert dog for Charlie Sheen? Something.)

Now I like Phil Dunphy, bumbling Dad, because I have a bumbling Dad. I love TV shows when you see someone who reminds you of someone you know. Like every time I see Kim Kardashian on TV I think of Mom.

You may recall in one of my previous blogs I wrote about how Daddy tried to fix the smoke detector and put the batteries in wrong.. It made this loud piercing sound that went right through my little brain and made me run around the house like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man.

Well this week while we were watching our documentary this Phil Dunphy guy couldn't find the beeping smoke alarm in his house and the sound upset me terribly. While Mommy and Daddy were sitting in their chairs watching the TV I kept trying to get to higher ground by climbing on their heads. They would put me down, I would run to the other and scale Mt. Head. That show lasted forever.

Later that night Mommy's brother came over, and there was some spilled food, and I won't admit if I ate any or not, but by late Sunday things started to go nuclear rumbly in my tummy.

I started out by spitting out drool in our bed. Our bed! Where we sleep. Where our children come and play with their toy! I was very upset, Mommy does not like anything messing up her bed or her sleep time. In a related note Daddy is lonely and frustrated.

I kept coughing, but wasn't producing anything but a little spit. Daddy took me down stairs and tried to get me to take some water but I wasn't interested. He thought something might be stuck in my throat so he gave me a treat. You can see what is going to happen can't you? It's like it's got a big sign and is marching down Main Street.

Daddy brought me back to bed, put a towel down between him and Mommy, because that's where Foley and I sleep and because he isn't allowed close to her in bed, I believe Foley drew up a restraining order, and turned out the light, hoping to sleep.

Foley licked his hand for about ten minutes, trying to find anything good that he had touched while we were downstairs. Then Daddy rolled over, settled down, and heard me yak the treat all over the towel.

He got up with a sigh. Luckily I had done a good job of aiming and got it on the towel. He took me back downstairs. It was a dark, wet, howling night so he couldn't take me out. I vicked on the hardwood floor. He cleaned it up. I continued to cough like a Jewish man unable to swallow a bagel in a deli.

Before we went back to bed Daddy began to have tummy trouble of his own and I had to sit outside on the rug while he took care of his business. How rude! I went back to bed but woke Daddy up twice for some more hardwood relieving.

I really didn't feel good at all in the morning. I got a piece of kibble and spit it up. I wouldn't touch anything else. I dribbled from my back end and foamed from my front. I scared Mommy, Daddy, and even Foley very much.

Mommy wanted to see if my tummy would get better if it was running on empty, so I got no food, and slipped into my crate. Mommy expected to come home and find me in a messy crate but I was to keep everything together, even when I came downstairs and snuggled with Mommy.

But when Daddy got home I got excited and foamed all over myself again. Mommy made me a plate of rice but I wouldn't eat it, even when Daddy put it on his finger and tried to get me to lick it off. But I wasn't having any of that. Then Mommy added chicken and I couldn't resist despite my nuclear rumbly tummy.

Bur let me tell you that chicken and rice does miracles. By Tuesday I was back to my barking, running self, and by Wednesday I was my ball chasing, rump shaking Pocket Dog. So big props to that chicken, to Mommy for being patient with me while I soiled her bed and everything else in the house, to Daddy for staying up late with me and giving me scratches when I needed them, to Foley for snuggling with me when I was down, and for all my Tanner Brigade and Mom's Facebook friends who sent out so many caring words and so much love during my brief illness.

As for that Phil Dunphy guy who started all of this, if I ever run into you and your peeping smoke alarm, you are due five pounds of Yorkie hell.






.

Kolchak and Felix are our pups of the week for November 7, 2010

It is an inescapable fact of life that we get older with each passing minute. For dogs, when we age, and our quality of life makes drawing breath more taxing then walking a mile was just a year before, humans do what they term the humane thing, they take us to the doctors, their hearts breaking, their eyes swamped with tears, and we are given a tiny little shot. We fall asleep, and when we wake up we are surrounded by our friends at the bridge, and we can run several miles without being taxed a bit.

But humans don't make the humane decision when it comes to their own kind. Maybe they shouldn't refer to it as humane and change it to canmane since humans aren't allowed the same courtesy of dying in dignity, looking into the eyes of those we love the most, and remembering who they are.

Instead humans either make room for aged family members in their house, where, unless a family has been truly blessed with love, their last days are tension filled, or they are moved into a "home," which is similar to how they came into the world. It is a nursery, just with bigger beds.

Except for our families, who love us more than anyone, other humans who love us are on either side of the life cycle. Little humans get very excited when they see us, yelling their blunt statements of the obvious "look at the puppy, look at the puppy," while older humans just want to give us a scratch, to look into our eyes, to feel our warmth, to look for a sign from us of the many dogs they once owned.

This week, our Pups of the Week, Kolchak and Felix did exactly that, taking time out of their day of test tasting treats and casting, and then recanting, gypsy spells to bring love to those who most need it. Our friend Felix is a registered therapy dog, which we have so much appreciation for because we do not have the discipline to get anything more than a dog license, but Kolchak, he's just a free spirit like us.

But Kolchak brought just as much love without a snip of training as Felix did. They made it a very Happy Halloween for the people there, and probably flooded their minds with a million happy memories. There is no more noble work a dog can do.

Plus Kolchak and Felix single pawedly helped push the organization SAINTS into second place on the Pepsi Refresh Website. The first place finisher gets $25,000 towards their project. By getting the votes to push SAINTS into second place their organization continues to stay in contention on the site and can get the money if we vote. In Kolchak's and Felix's own words: "SAINTS is an organization in our city that provides vet care, shelter, palliative care & end of life services to paws with nowhere else to go."

To honor our pups of the week click this link and give SAINTS a vote. Koly, Felix, and the pups they are rallying for deserve it.

An open house on Halloween leads to a day of fun for Pocket

I never knew what having an open house meant until Sunday. It means a day full of fun!

Our realtor Donna came over just before noon time on Sunday. I like Donna a lot. She is very friendly. Plus she can't sell a house. I am happy about that because I like it here. It has taken me three years to pee on every square foot of this place. At the age of three I don't know if I have the energy to start over at a new place.

Have you ever had an open house? I don't know what goes on. We had to leave, which was super sweet because I love to leave with Mommy, Daddy, and Foley. From the sounds of it they kick down all the walls, flip off the ceiling, and let the common folk walk through your house. Fine with me. It was all buttoned back up as good as new when we got home.

We got in the car. I was wearing my sun dress. I wanted to find a stick on the way to the car but couldn't. That worried me. I looked so good I would need that stick to beat the boys off with.

Our first stop was the most wonderful, sun drenched, sweet smelling place in the world: The strip of grass in the Target parking lot. This place is great. It was created by one of the largest corporations in the world just for me to pee. I wanted to buy some falanges but Mommy said we didn't have time.

Then we went to an even greater place, a place where If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it,the most magical place ever: Petco,

We strutted in that place like we owned it (well strutting as much as we could with our paws slipping all over the linoleum.) There was an obedience class going on but when we walked in the entire group turned around and said "It's the Monster and the Mini!" (The Mini is my in town nickname with the other dogs.) Well that obedience class was just about over. All the dogs ran to us while the instructor said all her fancy control words, which don't work in the presence of the Monster (and the Mini). We decided, after giving sniffs of hello and catching up on news, to let them get back to work, less one of the paying Moms snapped at Mommy.

Then we got down to sniffing. Every dog in town comes to Petco and the smells are fantastic. Foley and I sniffed and slipped. We smelled and fell. We inhaled and floor mailed. And every time we went around a corner there was another pup to bark hello at. We bought some treats, we licked some toys, then we got in line, paid for our goodies and went to the car.

Our next stop was the village of the people who smell like prunes where Mommy and Daddy want to move. All the folks are very friendly there. We even dreamed about it slightly, until we remembered that realtor Donna was on our side and we were sunk. But as we walked long on that perfect autumn day we just talked about a good future and dreamed good dreams.

Then it was off to Grandpappies house but he wasn't home. I wonder if he was stepping out. So we spent the rest of the time looking at neighborhoods where people who smell like prunes live, and then we went home for, what I thought was a night's rest.

But when the sun set Daddy pulled out the caterpillar suit Hattie sent me, and the next thing we knew the Grandbabies were at the door.

Mackenzie was a zombie soccer player. She's at that age where she wants to use her own creativity, but she doesn't have a honed vision, so her decision making power is that of a zombie soccer player, which means the costume was perfect. Emily was a witch, and Kiley was my sister in insectdom.




Every time a trick or treater came to the door Daddy and I answered and little children praised the pretty pup in the perfect costume while Foley ignored the whole thing and licked her paws. I could tell by the way she was licking: She was seething.

Then our two little devils, Maddie and Meghan came over, dressed all in red. They like passing out candy with me so they opened the door while Daddy held me. I think the children were overwhelmed with cute and who could blame them?

After they left I stayed on the back of the couch waiting for the little costumed clowns but they dwindled.


By 8:30 I was out of costume, and tuckered out, but the bell kept ringing, which must of filled Daddy with the spirit of the Lord because each time it did he yelled "Jesus Christ!"

When I finally fell asleep (Thank you Daschund Housewives) I could have slept forever.

So take my fellow pup friends. If you want to have a happy Halloween find yourself a realtor with little chance of selling your house, open it, go have some adventures, then let the adventures come to you. A better day you will not easily come by