If humans won't buy our condo how about dogs?

We have been waiting four months for a human to make an offer on our condo and so far not even a nibble. So once again it is up to me to help out my Mom and Dad.  I think their problem has been their insistence that they need to market our home to other humans.  But this leaves an entire segment of the population out.  I speak, of course, of the pup market.

So I would like to show you our home.  Let's start at the entrance.

This is what you usually see when you come in the front door.  Two comfy recliners, a little white chair for me, a warm carpet to nap on.  What more can you ask for?  That blur to the right is Pocket chasing the ball.  No wonder she leaks so much, she's barely solid.

Now the first thing you should do upon entering the house is to jump on the back of the couch to see what is going on outside.

This give was an excellent view of what is going on outside.  Anything that creeps into your vision needs to be barked at like your Gordon Ramsey having been given an undercooked Wellington.  This is your area,  Let no one pass without knowing they are on land under your protection.

When you are done hop over to Mom's recliner.  This is where I spend most of my day.

If you care to lift your head up you can watch the TV.  You can see down the bottom there is a little Wii Fit.  This is just for decoration.  Most of the time I am either facing Mommy or have my eyes shut.

Now let's take a stroll through the dining room and look out the back door:

How about we jump back to the couch for a picture of our central fireplace.

You get a nice view of the fire place and you can see right through to the dining room so if someone drops food off the table you can see it from the couch and get down, pick it up, and bring it back.  I steal lots of french fries like this.  Sometimes I forget they are there and Mommy finds the couch potato.  Also it's a nice view of our toys.

Now let's take a walk through the dining room and look out the back door.

OK, because of the snow there is not a lot to see.  But in the summer you rule this back section of the lawn too.  The good news is that with all the snow of the deck that bad white kitty can't sit on it and disrespect my authority.

Let's take a walk in the kitchen.  Here is my dog bowl.

Now the humans haven't offered this dog dish and stand as part of the deal but if you insist on having it we will throw it in.  There is a second bowl that goes with the stand that can be included too.  Mommy only puts out one dish  because Pocket over drinks and we all know what happens after that.

A short turn around and here is where we look up and wait for our treats

 

Usually our Mommy and Daddy are standing there getting the treats out of the jar while we stand, waiting forever, looking up.  This is also where we wait patiently for our supper.  We spend lots of time looking up like this.  Wish someone would clean around the stove exhaust.

We eat in the living room  by Mommy's chair off of plates.  They are in the dishwasher right now so you can't see them.   Plus I am pretty sure we are taking the plates.  But here is another prime spot for food.

It is the begging for scraps from the table spot.  Right between Mommy's chair and Daddy's chair.  You can see Daddy's chair.  That's because he is a soft touch.  This is prime human food place right here.  It is worth the asking price alone.

Although it is not for sale I did want to show you the entrance to my fortress of solitude where I go to get away from it all.   If you squint you can almost see the Monet.

Although this could also be a picture of a leopard's vagina.  Sometimes I get my kitty porn pictures and house pictures confused.

This is a picture of my toys.

None of them are for sale.  Just wanted to show you.  Aren't they nice,  For the right offer I might leave one behind,  But it would have to be a really good offer.

These are our stairs.  They're not so bad.,  There are two landings so you don't have a bunch to go down  

If you go up the stairs and to the left is the second landing.  This is my favorite spot.  I get sun from the sky light, which is now a snow light, and I get to look out this window to see all that is going on in my realm.

Now let's go upstairs.  You know what the best thing to do in the bedroom is.  Get on top of the bed and snuggle.  This is what is looks like from my bed.

Pretty perfect isn't it.  We're taking the bed with us.  But I'm sure you have a special one.  Everyone's bed is special.

That is where I spend my night time.  During the day I have a blanket I lay on at the foot of the bed.  This is what I see:

I admit it isn't the best view but I usually don 't face this way.  I face inside the blanket.  it looks like this.

Doesn't it look warm and snuggly?  Can't you just picture sleeping here all night long?  Now let's take a look out the front door.

This our main peeing area right now because of all the snow.  Also this is one of the rarest events you will see in nature.

 It is Pocket peeing outside.  Save this picture it will be worth something one day.  And finally, if you like recreation there is always mountain climbing.

 This is Mount Foley.  If you climb to the top you can see Russia.

So start you bidding pups.  Tell me how many kibbles you can afford and I'll see if Mommy will make a deal.

I hope this home makes you as happy as it has made us. 

Buddy Boy is our January 30, 2011 Pup of the Week

Once again this week's Pup of the Week nomination lead to a disagreement between me and Pocket.  Pocket wanted to nominate the dog Secret Bub who has been sending presents to everyone.  While the Secret Bub has certainly been the center of the Tanner Brigade universe I don't know who this Bub is and I am going to have to do more research on them before I bestow this generous, yet mysterious pup our most highly esteemed honor.

No, this week we pick a dog who is going through what we all fear the most.  Missing our Mom.

Our good friend Buddy Boy has been without his Mom for awhile now.  He doesn't really know why she's not living with them.  From what I can tell reading my Mom's Facebook page his Mommy is sick because of their house.  Now my Mom is sick of our house, but it isn't making her sick.  I don't know my Human well enough to tell the difference, all I know is Mommy is here with me and Buddy Boy's isn't.

Poor Buddy Boy is stuck him with his Dad.  Now we all love our Dads.  But it's just not natural to be left home alone with one.  Plus, according to his Mom's posting on Facebook Buddy's Dad keeps house like a homeless man tends to his tent. 

Buddy Boy's Mom is at her Mom's house and Buddy Boy understands this.  He doesn't want her to be sick.  But he does miss her so.  And, if possible, she misses him even more, so we should all say a prayer that they are together very soon.

She calls him whenever she can.  His Daddy answers the phone, if he can find it.  He then puts down the phone and Mom and pup talk.  I will give Buddy credit because my Mom's voice on the phone freaks me out but Buddy doesn't let it bother him at all.  He gets the ball when he tells him to and brings it to the phone.

This weekend they were reunited for a marvelous day full of blueberry muffins and loving scratches and licks. 

We all hope and pray that this separation ends seen.

Buddy Boy you are our Pup of the Week because you have been so brave in facing life without her.  You are our Pup of the Week because we hope it will make your Mom smile.  And you are our Pup of the Week because you are as special a dog we know.Buddy

Saving Private Skunk

When I was a wee pup my big sister Blake used to take me on adventures.  I'm sure being an inexperienced pup I got us into some troubling situations.  But I don't think I have ever got into more trouble then after Pocket became my sister.  I joined DS just after Pocket became part of our family. Many of you who have read my blogs there, and followed me to Blogger,  then the Tanner Brigade, and have read about all of our adventures.  But I don't think I have ever undertaken such a fool hardy endeavour as when Pocket decided we had to save that miserable skunk.

It started one cold night after the first snow.  Pocket likes to go with Daddy when he takes out the trash.  I don't know why.  Young pups like trash.  She usually walks with Daddy.  But with the snow, salt, and ice,  Daddy carries her in one arm and the trash in the other.  It was very dark and the only light came from the few working lamp posts.  Daddy heard it before he saw it, the scratching against the snow.  Then he saw it, between the snow bank and the dumpster, a big black and white skunk.  Pocket began to bark.

Daddy knows skunks.  He's never been skunked by a skunk but he knows them.  If you show them some backbone they scurry away.  But not this skunk.  It looked at them and  hissed.  Then it went back to scratching.  Daddy took another step forward but the skunk would not budge.  It just kept scratching.  Daddy moved to the right of the dumpster, trying to figure if he could throw the bag inside, but given the angle, and having his balance thrown off by five pounds of Yorkie on his opposite side, he did what Daddy has seldom had the sense to do, he retreated, bringing the trash back into the house.

He brought the trash out the next morning.  No sign of the skunk.  Daddy took Pocket out with him when he did trash that night. Still no sign of the skunk.  But Pocket told me she could sniff it.  That skunk was living in the snowbank right next to the dumpster.

Two nights later we had another buzzard.  The loud beasts came and they pushed all the snow off the road.  That night Daddy carried Pocket towards the dumpster (he took the trash too, Pocket's seepage hasn't pushed them that far.)  Pocket was sitting up sniffing.  Daddy knew she was sniffing for the skunk.  He thought she was sniffing to protect him.  But she was sniffing to see if the skunk was safe.

She could barely smell it..  When Daddy was tossed the bag in the dumpster Pocket barked out a "hello, are you there?"

"Hiss, yes, hiss, I am trapped, hiss, trapped in the snowbank, hiss, have your human shovel me out," the skunk said.

Pocket knew Daddy had a big heart, but he wasn't going to dig a skunk out of a snowbank. 

They came back inside.  Pocket climbed up on the couch next to me.  "You know that skunk I was telling you about?" she asked.  I nodded as I licked my paws.  "It's stuck in the snow bank by the dumpster."

"That's too bad," I said.  "But it's a wild animal, it should have known better then to live in a snow bank.  It's only a temporary home."

"It can't get out, it can't eat, it's cold, it's going to starve to death then it's going to freeze to death," Pocket pleaded.

"Pocket it's a skunk, it's like the scorpion and the frog.  You can't help a skunk," I said.

"What about the scorpion and the frog?" she asked.

I sighed.  "The scorpion asks the frog to give it a ride across the river.   The frog doesn't want to because it's afraid the scorpion will sting it and kill it.  The scorpion promises it won't.  It gets a ride across the river.  Once there on the other side, scorpion stings it and kills it."  I continued to lick my feet.

"What a terrible story," Pocket said.  "Why did you tell me that?"

I looked at her. "It means that things are what they are.  A scorpion stings, that's what it does.  A skunk sprays other animals.  A leopard can't change it's spots."

"A leopard?  A scorpion?  A frog?  There's just a skunk the the snow bank Foley.  It isn't Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom in there!"

I looked up again.  "Nice 70's reference Pocket, where are you learning this stuff?"

"I've been going on line at night and reading Pupapedia since Mommy blocked the kitty porn sites."

"Pocket," I said, my annoyance growing, "If we try to save the skunk we are going to end up smelling like skunk stank and Mommy is going to be mad at us.  This discussion is over.  We are not ging to try and save the skunk."  The next night, after Mommy and Daddy went to bed, we went out to try and save the skunk.

Mommy and Daddy were deep in their snores.  We hopped out of bed,.  Pocket nosed under the couch and pulled out a rope and a rock hammer.  She rolled on the rope until it was around her then picked up the hammer in her mouth.  "Why do you have a rock and hammer?" I asked.

"In case we have to summit," she said after dropping the hammer.  I shook my head.  We slipped out through the Teddy Bond Invisible Doggy Door.  It was the dead of night.  So cold even the bats were in the belfry.  We got to the big snow pile by the dumpster. 

I knocked on this exit less Igloo but there was no answer.  "This doesn't look good," I said to Pocket. 

"Foley it's a pile of snow not an ice sculpture," she said.

"I meant it doesn't look good for your skunk friend, he's been in there for days."

Pocket began barking:  "Hello?  Mr Skunk!  Are you in there?"

"Hiss, yes, hiss, I am here hiss.  Help me Ms. Pocket.  I am very cold and hungry, hiss," a weak voice said from inside the snow bank.

"She's alive Foley, she's alive," Pocket said excitedly   "Unless he's a he.  Do you think his Mommy got it neutered?"

"Skunks don't get neutered," I said.

"Does Bob Barker know about this?" she asked.

I gave Pocket my look of great annoyance.  "You gonna womit?" Pocket wondered.

As usual, she was no help.  "Look Mr Skunk, is there anyway you can scratch your way out?"

"Hiss, no, hiss, I have been trying, hiss, now too deep."

I turned to talk to Pocket but she wasn't there.  She had used to rope and hammer and now was standing on top of the snow bank.  "Look at me!" she said.  "I am Pocket.  Pocket of the Mountain."

"Well Pocket," I said, looking up at her, "I knew you were not going to able to resist climbing up there, so I took some silent fireworks and put them in the trash.   Now all you have to do is jump from the snow pile into the dumpster, find our trash, pull the fireworks and matches out of the bag, and we'll blow this snow pile up."

"Excuse me," the Skunk said, "But I would rather not be blown up, I have plans to go to the coast this summer."

"We're not going to blow you, probably," I said.  "It will just blow apart the snow bank so you can escape, more than likely.  By the way, in case of accident, is there anyone we should notify?"

"You don't have to worry, Mr Skunk because I am not jumping into the dumpster," Pocket said tremblling.

"This was your idea Pocket, you said you would do anything, so here you are, prove it.  You want to save the skunk you need to go dumpster diving."

Pocket kept trembling.  But she knew she had committed herself to this adventure, so she shook her heiny, and then jumped just as pretty as anything you ever saw, into the dumpster.  I became concerned when I didn't hear from her for almost a minute.  I called out her name.  "Somebody threw out pizza!" she answered.

"Pocket," I scolded, we are lap dogs, we do not eat out of the dumpster.

"It's OK I brought a fork," she said.  "Oh look, someone threw out a Lance Bass poster, how do you think it would look in my crate?"

"Pocket, the skunk!" I reminded her.

"Hiss, that is good pizza, hiss, I used to eat it before I got trapped," the skunk said.

"I'll make sure they know it's the pizza preferred by skunks," I said.  "Find our trash and get the fireworks and matches!" I yelled to Pocket.

"How am I to know it's our trash?" she asked.

"It will probably smell like paper towels used to soak up your pee," I said. 

"Found it!" she said.  She then jumped down with the silent fireworks and the matches in her mouth.  We then stuck the fireworks around the snow pile.  I then told her to hold the match in her mouth while I struck it against the book cover.  "Why don't you hold it in your mouth, I always get my whiskers burned," she said. I reminded her this was her mission.  She sighed, and I struck the match against the book.  It caught on fire.  Pocket dropped it and said "ow, ow, oww," and then we realized the fireworks were lit and we both ran and hid behind the dumpster. 

The fireworks went off lighting up cold mid-winter sky.  There were group of animals watching from the edge of the woods.  "Look at that, it's beautiful," a chipmunk said.

"Must be the fourth of July," a coyote said.  "And it's cold and snowing.  That's the last time I rent an Al Gore video."

While the fireworks were a thrilling site they did not blow up the snow bank.  A worried Pocket called out for skunk.  "Hiss, it melted the snow a little, hiss, bit I still can't get out," it reported.

"Maybe we can dig it out," Pocket said.  We both began to scratch against the snow.

"Darn," I said looking at my paw.

"What happened?" Pocket asked

"Oh I broke a nail," I said.  "And I just got them done."   I pulled out my Droid phone from under my tail.  "I know a fabulous Japanese Chin who can do wonders with nails, let me give her a call."

"But what about digging out the skunk?" Pocke asked.

"Oh I can't," I said.  "I don't have the kibble to get more than one nail done."

"What more important to you Foley the life of this skunk or your nails?"

"Hey, I spent a lot of kibble on these nails," I said.  "Oh wait, I got the Chin's machine.  Nice message."  I asked her to call me.

Pocket was depressed, and she did what she always did when she was depressed, or excited, or bored.  She peed.  I watched as the snow melted under her.

"That's it Pocket.  When you pee you melt the snow.  You are going to pee the skunk out of the snowbank!" I said.

"Hiss, that sounds kinds of disgusting hiss," the skunk said and I responded "look whose talking."

"It would take lots of pee to melt that snowbank," Pocket said.  I told her that meant we needed lots of water, and with everything frozen that would take some thinking.

"I know where there is an endless supply of water," I said.

"Where?" Pocket asked excited.

"At home in the toilet bowl!" I said.


"I'm not drinking out of the toilet bowl!"

"You'll eat my poo but you won't drink out of the toilet bowl?" I asked.

"Oh please nice Puppy can't you go home and get some water and help me hiss?" the skunk hissed.

Pocket sighed again.  "Can't you spray your spray and melt the snow?" she asked.

"Oh no hiss, it would smell to much hiss."

"Really, I thought they would be like your farts, your own never smell bad," Pocket said.

"Oh I don't mind my farts," the skunk said.

"Well this is all fascinating," Pocket replied.

"Yes it is," I said, not meaning it.  "But we need to get back home, you need to get toilet bowl drinking, and I need some supplies, so let's go."

"Hiss, hiss, are you sure you are coming back for me?" the skunk asked. 

"I promise Mr. Skunk.  I give you my word as a Terrier from Yorkshire," Pocket said before I gave her a nip to get her moving.

We got back into the house.  Pocket was taken to the toilet bowl but was reluctant until I told her about the freezing skunk.  She held her nose while licking, which is quite the feat when you are balancing yourself on a toilet seat.  Pocket told me she couldn't drink anymore but I knew she would need more to pee the skunk out.  To get her to drink more at first we played toilet bowl pong and then quarters.  Pocket was quiet blotted and barely fit back through the doggy door.,  When we hit the cold Pocket was afraid she was going to start leaking and I had to drag her by her harness to the snow pile.  I told the skunk that Pocket was ready to pee.  I suggested the skunk peed if she had them.  I had drank a big bowl of water too and I contributed.

But it was Pocket, peeing and peeing on the snow who created a big enough hole that we could see the skunks paw.  Then Pocket and I each bit a paw and dragged the skunk out of the snowbank.

We got it out of the hole.  We all hugged one another and then joined hands and did the dance of joy.  Then the skunk stepped back.  "And now, as a citizen of France, I shall say to you Ni and spray stink in your general direction in the name of Napoleon."

"But we just saved you!" Pocket said.

"Yes, but it is like the story of the scorpion and the frog hiss," the skunk said raising it's tail.

"The scorpion and the frog are in there.  I am going to have to drink more toilet water," Pocket said as the tail rose.  I grabbed Pocket and we ran back to the house.

"Ni, let loose my spray!" the skunk said.

We were about to get skunked  Then we saw Daddy, walking towards us.  "What are you two doing out here this late at night....SKUNK."

The skunk sprayed just as we skidded behind Daddy and he got skunked.  The skunk hopped up on the bank and ran into the woods.  Daddy stood there smelling really bad.  Then he yelled at us to get back in the house.  We got upstairs and the smell made Mommy wake up.

"What have you done you smell like skunk?" she asked.

Daddy began to tell her about us being outside with the skunk.  "Oh that is ridiculous, blaming this on the dogs.  You always blame these two babies."  We jumped up on the bed and snuggled with her. "You tried freeing that skunk you told me about, I told you that you'd get spray," Mommy said angrily.  "Go sleep in the tub and we will figure this out in the morning,"  Poor Daddy turned and walked into the bathroom to sleep.

We snuggled close to Mommy.  "Well that worked out well,:" I said to Pocket.

"Yes, but tomorrow night we need to free the scorpion," Pocket said.  I just pretended to be asleep.  Sisters. 

But neither of us slept well that night.  We have good sniffers and boy did Daddy smell.  All in all I think it was very inconsiderate of him.  But he got his reward.  A naked tomato soup bath.  Serves him right for getting involved in animals, business.

Puppy, Wishbone, Zafaria, Duke, and the Paula Malatesta Pack are our January 23, 2011 Pups of the Week

I would like to tell you all that I remember every blog you have all written.  Of course, no one can.  Not even humans.  Humans stand in bookstores studying the back covers of books trying to determine if they have read these 440 pages before.  But there are certain blogs:  Moses, Tanner, and others going to the bridge that stick with you, plus some very special stories.  One such story concerns one of the members of the Pack the make up our Pups of the Week:  The Malatesta Clan.

Wishbone was rescued from a hunter who found him worthless because he was not a good hunting dog.  Well, the Pack's Mom, Ms. Paula, had a different plan, and she rescued Wishbone from that bad man.   But Wishbone, being a free spirit, made a run for it one day.  Ms. Paula was heartbroken.  But she never gave up hunting down this hound.  On a Sunday, leaving church, she saw Wishbone, ran after him, tackled him, and rolled down a hill with him, holding on, then safely got him in the car and home.  After reading that story I said wow, now that's a Mom.

Ms. Paula is a superhero for dogs.  If you are trapped in a puppy mill you dream of Ms. Paula coming zooming through the night, taking out those bad people who are holding you in a small cage filled with fecal matter next to stale water, taking you with her, staying with you, and finding you your forever home.  She doesn't make it to every dog.  But she wants to, and that is what matters the most.

You could say that we could just name this Mom of the Week, and it would be fitting.  But bark yourself this.  Why?  Why would a woman devote her life to this?  All I can figure is that somewhere in this special woman's life she must of had a least one, but more than likely dozens, of wonderful pups who inspired her.

One of the dogs she named The Dude perhaps after Jeff Bridges' pot smoking slacker from the Big Lebowski.  This pup had no chance of surviving the kill shelter it was in.  But Super Paula swooped in and saved The Dude.  For two years she fostered The Dude, never giving up on him, even when two families brought him back.  Finally The Dude has a new home..  Who has such patience to never give up on a dog even after two years?

In the first week of the year she drove to Greenville N.C. and rescued 14 dogs.  That's 14.  Some were puppies: but 14, that's more than a football team.  She put them in her van and took them home.  My parents can't manage 14 fish in a tank.  14 dogs?  But what do you expect from a superwoman?

Then she got called out to rescue a Pit Bull named Skunk.  That doesn't seem like a good combination.  She got there but the pit bull had been rescued.  So she still rescued some Boston Terriers who had their tickets punched for the bridge.  Two more dogs rescued by Super Paula.

Just how special is Super Paula?  She went to a farm to rescue some pups to find only two of them not killed by their owner.  One of the two, Zafaria was terminally ill.  Instead of having the pup put down she put her on chemotherapy to save her life, then took her to senior citizen homes so she could pay forward the love and life she got from Paula.  She doesn't just save pups, she brings joy to the elderly through these pups.

And she is having a wonderful effect on our Moms and Dads.  I am seeing more and more of them sign up for doing transports or fostering pups.  Even Daddy has signed up for transports although he hasn't done any yet.  Of course, given our Daddy's driving, the pups may be better off taking their chances with the farmer and the gun

Last week, in my recommended blogs of the week, I linked to a site about the dogs of Brazil.  The authors of this blog have been severely effected by the floods in Brazil.  They have been traveling around their neighborhood trying to help the dogs who were abandoned or lost their families and are starving or sick.  The streets are full of them.  It is a truly tragic situation.  I know if she could, Miss Paula would be down there fighting for those dogs too.  If you would like to read the blog click HERE

So let's raise a paw to the pack that we respect the most, the pack we would like to be when we grow up, the pack that we wish we had the strength and passion to be, the pack of the week, Puppy, Wishbone, Zafaria, Duke, Khan, all the other wonderful dogs who are, or have been part of their pack, and the wonderful Mom Ms. Paula.

Foley and Pocket want to thank their secret bub

Wednesday afternoon we had a house showing at 5:30.  Mommy was going to be at the hairdressers which left Daddy home.  This was worrisome enough.  But our realtor thinks that we are a distraction when she is showing the house.  That I can believe.  We are the most beautiful part of he house.  We promised to be good.  Then Daddy got the mail.

Our secret Bub gifts had arrived.  "Open it.  Open it.  Open it.  Open it.  Open it," we barked.  But Daddy said no.  I was in a snit.  I planned my revenge.   Ten minutes before the showing I took a giant shadoobie on the dining room floor.  Seldom alert Daddy saw it an cleaned it up, so there wasn't much payoff to my bang bang.  But I think my point was made. 

The realtor and the potential buyers came in and Pocket and I acted very responsibly.  We don't know if the woman is going to make an offer on the house.  We just wanted it made clear we weren't part of the deal.  As soon as she was gone we hopped on the back of the couch and waited for Mommy to get home.  When she arrived we were more excited than usual.  Not only was Mommy home safe but we could open our gift.

Daddy pulled out the box and ripped it open.  There were two beautiful, plush squeak toys.  One was an olyphant and the other a heffalump.  Here are the pictures of me enjoying the toys.

Then there were the treats.  There were healthy hearts mini chicken treats, and another package of yummy chicken treats.  And here is the best part of the treats.  Pocket has become convinced that whenever Mommy give her a new treat it is medicine and she won't eat it.  So unless Mommy can convince Pocket otherwise all the new treats are for me.  HA!

So a big thank you to my Secret Bub.  Your gifts were perfect.  I gave the heffalump and oliphant a good shaking last night and am planning my attack for this evening.  Over time I may even let Pocket play with themThanks again.  We love you Secret Bub.  Foley and Pocket.

Pocket is a trembler and proud of it

From the desk of Pocket Dog:

I am a trembler and I am not afraid to admit it.  When it appears that Mommy and Daddy will be going out I start to tremble.  One of them will see me, and sometimes they will pick me up, whisper to me, and try to calm me, but it does no good, I continue to tremble.  Even Foley tells me not to worry, they always come back to us, but even wise Foley, behind those dark brown eyes, betrays her worries. 

Shortly over a week ago, in Arizona, a Mom or Dad picked up their trembling dog and told him or her they would be home soon, they were just going down the street to see their Congresswoman speak at the supermarket, and they'd be right home.  That pup is still waiting for the parent to return.

So I understand that Moms and Dads want to come back home to us.  But they can't control what happens to them when they go out that door.  And that scares me.  A lot.

Recently Hobo's Mom wrote an article about how Moms and Dads should make sure they provide for us in their wills.  I didn't want to read it.  I knew what it was about.  I know I have so many wonderful friends who would never let Foley or me be without a good home, and I so appreciate that.  But I don't know if I could ever really be happy again without Mommy and Daddy.

I don't mind when Daddy is out of the house.  I am certain Mommy knows how to take care of us.  I'm not crazy about being left alone with Daddy.  Mommy is in charge of so much.  Making us food.  Snuggling with us.  Well that's about it.  But it meets our needs.  Daddy is fun.  He seems to have the need to play ball a lot so I play with him even if I am tired.  And he walks us.  But I prefer to be snuggled up with Mom in a chair wondering where Daddy is then being home with Daddy wondering where Mommy is and why he spends so much time looking at the computer screen.

But I mind very much when they go out together.  Why must they go out together?  There have been two Presidents in my lifetime and neither has gone on a plane with the Vice-President so they both wouldn't be hurt (although I believe Bush did not want to fly with Chaney because he did not wants to be shot in the face mid flight and nobody wants to sit next to Joe Biden on a nine hour flight to the Sudan.)

I have seen on the computer where some parents set up a web cam so they can watch us pups when we are home alone.  Well this is just about the silliest darn thing I have ever heard.  We're home.  Why do they need to know what we are doing?  What humans should do is, where ever they go, hold a web cam in front of them so we can see what they are doing.  We know what we're doing. We're sitting at home worrying about them.  I have no idea why anyone finds this compelling television.

Thanks to sneaky human parents worried about their human children phones are made with GPS in them.  They can go on the computer and find out where their children are.  I could tell them where their children were if they would listen.  Somewhere they shouldn't be.  Us pups should have GPS access to know where our humans are all the time.  "Hey Foley where's Daddy?"  Foley could look at the Internet and find out that he is at the Red Star Hotel.   Not only would our minds be at ease because we knew where Daddy was, but we could blackmail him for extra kibble over a period of months because he is not supposed to be at the Red Star Hotel.

Some parents like to call home because they believe us pups want to hear their voice on the answering machine:  "Hi girls, how are you?  It's Mommy.  I miss you.  Are you being good girls?  OK.  Mommy loves you.  I will see you soon.  Bye-bye,"  I imagine that Mommies think us left alone pups will be soothed by hearing our Mommy's voice.  In actuality it causes us run around in a panic going "I heard her, did you hear her?  I heard her.  She's somewhere in the house.  Did you hear her?  I heard her!"  Yes, there is nothing more soothing than the disembodied voice of Mommy suddenly appearing out of thin air.  (And don't tell us we should have heard the phone ring.  We don't pay attention to the phone.  Do you want to know why?  Because it has never once been for us.)

What would be nice is if Mommy could leave a message that says "Hello dogs.  This is Mommy.  I am talking to you from work so don't go look for me.   I will be here until 5:00.  I should be home by 5:30 so don't worry.  I may have to drive by the Red Star Hotel and emasculate Daddy so don't be worried if I am late."

That way we would be informed.  But they don't do that.  Part of it is because anti-canites find it silly that humans talk to their dogs on the phone.  This is exactly the type of person we worry about our parents falling under the influence of when they leave the house.  But it is the polite thing to do.  Not knowing where you are is why we eat things we shouldn't, like couches, pee where we shouldn't, which is why I am crated, and raise general havoc.

This is what the human professors of dogology call "Separation Anxiety."  It's not "Separation Anxiety" it's "Oh my gosh I don't know where Mommy is I don't know if she is ever coming home, I don't know when I am going to get fed, I don't know if I am going to end up living on the street anxiety."  We don't so much mind being separated from our humans.  That's why sometimes we get off your laps and go lie in the sun for awhile.  Occasionally we need our space.

Some foolish dogolists think that, to combat separation anxiety you should leave on the television or radio.  Let me tell you parents something.  Fox News and AM talk radio do not make soothing noise.  We do not hear the voices and think it's our parents berating a first time caller long time listener from Kansas.  And no ESPN doesn't do any good either.  They yell a lot too.  And if you're worried about us don't leave on classical music.  If you play classical music you should be worried about us.  After a half hour of that we are trying to climb the curtains, willing to take our chances with the window and the fall to the ground.

Part of the problem is that us dogs can't really get a grasp on time.  You leave us, the parting is so difficult, honestly, it's exhausting, and we fall asleep.  Then we wake up and we don't know how long we have been napping for.  Ten minutes?  Ten days?  Who knows.  All we know is that we woke up and there is no Mommy.  Some humans say we can tell time from the sun in sky.  Sun in the sky?  We can't even make fire and you want us to use our tail as a sun dial.

Then, when you finally get home, you act like it's no big deal and you don't know why we are so excited.  Why are we excited?  We thought you were never coming home.  We're like the families of the survivors on the Titanic waiting for them at the dock in New York.  Did you expect those people just to give them a slight peck on the cheek and ask them if they had a nice trip?   No they rejoice that their loved ones are still alive, and that's what us dogs do when you come home.

Of course when you come home we have to pee a river.  Have you ever met a worried person who doesn't have to pee?  It is a dogology fact that when you are left alone more than 75% of pee is worry juice.

So remember, when you're going out the door, just to go to work, or go to the store, that there are lots of bad people out there, and lots of bad things happening, and there are no guarantees that anyone is coming home.  So, when you do walk in the door, and we dance and jump, dance and jump for joy with us.  Rejoice, bark and sing that we're all alive. 

And don't take a second of it for granted.

The story of our friends Freddy Girl and Sota

Our friends Freddy Girl and Sota lost their Mom and there were no provisions to find home for them.  Here is the story of how social networking found them new homes
http://www.nbcchicago.com/shows/newstoday/Social_Media_Helps_Find_Dogs_New_Homes_Chicago-113867714.html#ixzz1BJ8oRpLM