From the files of Foley Monster Attorney at Paws: The Case of Uggie's Missing Oscar Nomination

I, Foley Monster, Attorney at Paw, am filing a law suit for Uggie who shall also be known as the plaintiff against the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, to be called the defendant,  for discrimination for not nominating Uggie for Outstanding Actor in a Supporting Role for his performance in the best picture nominated film, The Artist because Uggie is a dog.  If you agree that Uggie deserves an Academy Award you can support him by liking his Facebook page: HERE

Many critics have maintained that Uggie is the best part of this highly acclaimed movie.  I cannot testify to this because (1) I am a dog and they don’t allow me into movie theaters (an exception to this is for seeing eye dogs, who sit on their owner’s lap and say “rut roo re’s roing rinto the ralley where the ruy’s rut the run.”)’  (2)  The movie is one of those artsy movies that only play in old theaters within walking distance of an over sized college campus; (3) It’s a silent movie and, like I’m paying money for that crap.  Uggie did have a small role in Water For Elephants but I didn’t notice him because that dreamy Robert Patterson (go Team Edward) and an olyphant were in it.

I anticipate the defendants’ answer is going to be that they don’t nominate animals in acting roles.  I would counter by saying that actor and well known creepy dude James Franco was campaigning for Andy Sedakis, who played an Ape in Origin of The Planet of the Apes to receive a nomination for his stop motion acting which was then, through the use of computers, turned into the actions of an ape.  So according to the prejudiced practices of the Academy a man playing an animal can be nominated but an animal playing an animal (or a human) cannot.  So they are not prejudiced against animals on film, just animal actors.

The lead actor in The Artist was nominated for Best Actor despite not having any dialogue,  the script was nominated for best original screenplay despite not having anything written on a page, but Uggie, who didn’t have any lines either, wasn’t nominated.   I understand that it isn’t possible for a dog to say words on film, but who is it harder to keep quiet for an hour and a half a human or a dog?  OK:  A male human or a dog?

I have had Professor Pocket do some research and we discovered that there were dogs nominated in the past but they, with use of makeup and special effects, made it seem like a human was being nominated.  Cases in point:  Cher’s Oscar win for Silkwood and Hllary Swank winning  twice.  Twice!  And Sean Penn?  Lollipop please.  

If the Academy would like to avoid this law suit we ask them to remove one of the nominees for Best Supporting Actor.  I would suggest Jonah Hill.  If you don’t recognize the name he was the fat kid in Superbad who wasn’t Michael Cera or McLovin.  We are also saving some young starlet the humiliation of having to buy a gown to match his big giant head on the runway.

It is just the Americans who discriminate against dogs.  The Cannes Film Festival awarded Uggie with the Palm Dog Award.   Those French know how to treat their dogs.  Uggie is up for a Golden Collar Award and director Martin Scorcese has asked that Blackie the Dog from his movie Hugo be nominated for a Golden Collar too.  It is a conflict of interest for me to represent Blackie (and also if he’s in a Scorcese film he is probably all mobbed up) but you can vote for him to be nominfated for  a Golden Collar Award .HERE 

Uggie has taken his snub so personally he has retired from making movies.  He does not have a statement, because he cannot talk, and spent all his time learning dancing and not typing, which is why he’s paying me, because I went to Paws Typing Class while he went to the Rin Tin Tin school of acting, and now I am his voice.  But Uggie will be heard.  I have been asked to relay to him that he is being asked to deliver the Best Supporting Actress Award.  When he does he is going to take a giant poo on the stage in response to the Academy.

Perhaps the screenwriters of The Artist are correct.  You can say more with actions than words.

12 us our January 29, 2012 Pup of the week

I was having a conversation with our friend Bauser this week and we said it seems like we have known each other our entire lives.  We feel the same way about 12, which is why when 12 became sick this week we were all so worried.

He had to go to the doctor hospital with pneurothorax.  I don’t know what that it is but it sounds very scary.  They also thought he developed a bacterial infection and we know what that is and that’s very scary.  They gave him some antibiotics and said he should respond well, unless it’s something worse, which would be even scarier.  In short, we’re scared.

We sent out lots of healing prayers to 12 and to his Mom and Dad who love their big boy quite a bit.  

12 contacted us the next day to say he was in good spirits but had pockets in his lungs, which, if they ruptured would collapse his lungs. Plus our big friends wasn’t eating.  Pocket and I grabbed each other and trembled in fear.   Then we prayed and sent out even more good thoughts. 

We breathed much easier when we heard that 12 was headed home.  Hattie Mae made him a comfy bed and put on soothing music for him.  I tell you if that girl wasn’t fixed I would start to get ideas.   He was taking his meds and tried to force down some chicken because he knew it would make his mom proud.  His liver and kidneys were good.  The dogtor said his weight needed to go up.  Who would have thought 12’s problem would be not enough weight?  So while we were feeling better, we were still consumed with worry.

Then we received words that the dogtor wanted more x-rays.  Man, what is it with these dogtors?   A bunch of us decided to upload ourselves to the doctor’s office and wait outside for 12.  Boy were the people at the office surprised when we all came flying out of their computer screens.  But when one of our close friends is sick we are there.

The dogtors came by and we all gathered around.  He said. that 12’s pneumonia was getting better.  He had to continue with his antibiotics and “steam baths.”  We all decided “steam baths” sounded very nice.  He also said there were masses in his lungs.  Our tails simultaneously went down when we learned this.  Masses aren’t good.   He said that they could be cancer but there would have to be surgery to find out.  We began to debate the pros and cons of surgery when 12 came out of the examining room.  Our tails perked up and we hurried to him.  We all gave him our various opinions of what he should do.  He thanks us but said it was going to be up to him and his parents.  We all gave them a kiss on the head then took over the computers so we could upload ourselves home. 

When 12 got home he sat down with his parents and hammered out an agreement.  They would keep him happy and comfortable and he would try to eat rotisserie chicken, cheese and hot dogs, as long as it’s hand fed.  .  Not a bad deal. 

So please say a prayer for our friend 12, and on the 2nd stop by and see him was we will celebrate 12’s eleventh birthday.

12, you are an example for dogs everywhere, a dogs dog, and I can’t wait to dance with you at your party.  

Ask Aunt Foley January 27, 2012 Edition

Dear Aunt Foley: I smelled French Fries and found the French Fry bag on the floor. I stuck my head in as far as it could go but I couldn’t find no French Fries, and I couldn’t find my way out of the bag. How do I stop this from happening again and where are the French Fries?
Lou ee

Dear Aunt Foley: I got a hankering for some pickles, and I stuck my head in a jar, and I got it stuck in there. I am just a young pup. I guess I shouldn’t have done it. Any suggestions on how to not get my head stuck in a can?
Cinnamon

Dear Lou ee and Cinnamon: I put these questions together because they cover the same subject: Young dogs sticking their heads where they don’t belong. I know the smell of fries (and pickles?) can be overwhelming but you have to learn how to resist. This, of course, is another trick of those humans who want to distract us from taking care of our parents.

Dear Aunt Foley: My friend Pez’s mother sent me a box of liver treats. Mommy left the box where I could get at it. Mommy went out for the day and left me and my kitty home alone. Those liver treats smelled so good I couldn’t resist them. I opened the box and kitty and I feasted on those treats. When Mommy got home I thought Mommy would be happy with us for being self-sufficent but instead she was mad for eating the treats without permission. Was I wrong?
Apple

Dear Apple: Oh this is one of the things humans do. They have trust issues. They leave food lying around to see if they can trust us. Of course they can trust us. We totally will leave the treats alone because we are completely trust worthy. Except as the treats sit there we begin to realize: The treats were put there because they haven’t learned to trust us after all we have done Who are they to mistrust us after all we have done for them? So we eat them, not because we aren’t trustworthy, but to teach them a lesson to don’t leave treats out to test us. So no Apple, you’re not wrong. That kittie though, totally wrong.

Dear Aunt Foley: I was looking at a picture of my dear friend Luca lying on his back and then I went into the bedroom, and I hopped up on the bed, and laid on my back, and looked at the mirrored ceiling my Mom has (don’t ask) and I noticed that Luca has things that I don’t have. I need to know what Luca has that I don’t have and why does he have them and I don’t?
Smoochy

Dear Smoochy: I have some very disturbing news for you. When you were a young pup, before you really knew what was happening, your mother cut your nuts off. Luca still has his nuts. But he is from Argentina. When he went to the vet he asked for an Argentinian. I believe what you got is called the Brazilian. You are a victim of the wrong South American country. I had a similar thing happen to my forlorn ovaries. Mommy says it was for our own good but I think they feel guilty about it and that’s why they spend so much time cleaning up our crap

Dear Aunt Foley: I am part of Secret Paws on DS. I have been asked to tell my Secret Paw what they need to know about me. I don’t know what I would say. What would you say?
Sushi

Dear Sushi: Well, I would first say that Pocket likes treats and to play with balls. We also are big fans of anything we can wear. We got a nice scarf and sweater from Smoochy last year and plenty of treats. But or me, as a successful lawyer, I have found that there is nothing better than cold hard cash. She put some bills in a manila envelope and mail it to Foley Monster. The bigger the bills the better. So take my advice Sushi, nothing gets the job done like cash.

Attorney Foley Monster's and Professor Pocket's Full Proof Way to Beat a Doggy DNA Test

It has come to my attention that some of your higher end condo associations have asked for a stool sample from all dogs who move into their units. They get a DNA sample from the poo, and if they find poo on their precious lawns, they send a sample of it to the lab to identify the offending pooch.

This is an attack on our inalienable right to poo. Also why is it our DNA that is being brought into question? When we are born we are just as happy to poo in the house like everyone else. But we are brought outside, against our will, to poo, and if the Lord meant for us to pick it up, he would have given us op-possible thumbs. So we have to rely on our silly, forgetful humans to clean it up, and half the time they have left the bag or scooper behind, and do likewise with our poo, leading to us having to submit to DNA testing, a violation of our personal freedom. Why don’t they get DNA testing from the humans? They must shed a hair or two fleeing the poo.

But instead it is on us, our precious bodily fluids to be kept on file and to be used for who know what purposes. So I turned to Professor Pocket and asked her what we could so to help our dog friends who could be suffering such an indignity. She spent a week in her lab and I will now let her explain her latest invention: The Anus Alias.

Hello. I am Professor Pocket Dog. Are you facing a loss of privacy because a power hungry condo board wants to have your DNA on file?. Then I have the solution for you. It is the Anus Alias. If you order an Anus Alias you will get a stool sample from a purebred dog who is not on any medications and has been thoroughly dewormed. You will get our patented Anus Alias packaging containing the clean stools, the packaging to go on your belly, and hair extensions in your color to cover the apparatus. As you know all dog DNA specialists want you to poo in front of them, so this is you’re only way to guarantee the privacy of your bodily functions.

How does it work? Simple. You are going to need a parent to buckle the Anal Anus around your waist making sure the pouch is full. Then drape the hair over you back to cover the pouch. Finally have someone snap to anal alias into place under your tail. When you go into the poo room try to walk with your tail down to cover the anal anus. Of course anyone who goes into a lab room to involuntarily surrender their poo with their tail up is one sick puppy.

Now, squat as you usually do. This will force to poo from the pouch under your stomach and up the tub and then out of your alias anus. They will gather the poo, bag and tag it, test it and then assign the DNA to you. From that point on you have the freedom to poo where ever you like and the evidence cannot be traced back to you.

Also, from that point forward, the anal alias is yours to keep. Although I would not use it for another DNA testing without a thorough cleaning, you can have fun at parties. Imagine the laughs that will erupt when someone says ‘oh my gosh, Leo just pooped a turtle.’

So, get yourself an anal alias before you anus makes you have to obtain an alias.

Pokey and Maggie are our January 22, 2012 Pups of the Week

We have chosen to honor our wonderful friends Pokey and Maggie not for their many achievements in advancing the cause of dogs, but to recognize their wonderful Mom, Auntie Laura Lunn, whom fate has once again struck down with a non life threatening but still big pain in the ass injury.

Aunt Laura does not let people know of the obstacles she has faced in her lie, obstacles that would make a lesser Mommy hide in their home. But she is the most adventurous Mom I know. And she has the perfect attitude for a dog’s Mom to have. When we arrived for our visit she made us feel at home and told us that is was a dog’s house. It is awful nice of Pokey and Maggie to let her sleep inside.

As many of you know, two summers ago, Aunt Laura had a terrible tragedy happen at home when a dog she had recently adopted, that had undisclosed anger issues, attacked her while she was petting him. The poor dog, who did not know what it was doing, ripped off most of Aunt Laura’s muscle on her forearm. She left that aggressive dog at home, and while bleeding a great deal, scooped up Pokey, made sure he had a safe place with a friend and drove herself to the hospital. What followed was months of painful operations and home confinement.

Despite having a bad experience adopting a dog Aunt Laura did not turn her backs on those pups who have not found their humans yet. First she adopted Maggie and except for a few things chewed up that shouldn’t have been, a few holes in the lawn, and one daring but ill advised prison break, she, Auntie Laura and Pokey have gone together like peas and carrots, and, um, more carrots.

And not only did she adopt another dog but she became an advocate for dogs who haven’t found their parents yet. Every week it seems like she is taking time to drive dogs searching for their forever humans for one point to the other, like a conductor on the underground puppy railroad.

But she injured her foot, and for us dogs in New England Aunt Linda hurting her foot is like Rob Gronkowski hurting his foot. Without Aunt Linda the dog transporting machine just don’t work.

For such a wonderful woman, she has had more than her share of problems, but she never lets it get her down. She always has pleasant comments and good advice for everyone, although it is rumored that she is a bit of a shark at Friends With Words. Her play of Zat got Alec Baldwin thrown off a plane.

Aunt Laura is an inspiration to dog parents everywhere. If they could all handle their pups’ digressions, their pups’ personality quirks, their pups’ great escapes, as well as their own medical problems with a smile and nary a complaint then they will surely be a woman my pup!

Get well soon Aunt Laura. We love you.

A gift from the very special Shiloh the Star Gazer

Thursday we went to the mailbox and there was a present addressed to my parents but it was from Shiloh the Stargazer. We thought it was something for us because Shiloh was our Secret Bub Receiver this year. We had so much fun buying stuff for her because she is so wonderful.

We hurried home and Daddy opened the box. Unfortunately it was not something for us, but in a way it was. It was a lovely key box with Shiloh’s picture on it. It looks like this.

Now you might ask why this helps us. Because when we go for our walks Daddy can never find his keys or wallet. We have to stand around with our legs crossed while he storms around the house cursing and looking for his keys. Now he knows where his keys are so there is no leg crossing for us, only paw crossing when we say we don’t know who peed under the table.

When Mommy saw the gift she told Daddt he should do something like this for Smoochy who was our secret bub. Daddy said he had no nowhere near the skills that Shiloh’s Dad had but none of us wanted to hear it. We banished him to the wood shed.

Well, things did not go well. After four hours all Daddy could make was a log. Mommy got so mad she burned it.

So sorry Smoochy, no new key box for you, Daddy isn’t as good as Shiloh’s Dad at making things.

But to you Shiloh the Star Gazer and your parents Mommy, Daddy, and us two little Yorkies want you to know how much your gift touched us. Thank you so much and it was more than a pleasure being your Secret Bub.

The Vets of our Lives

Last Thursday we went for our annual vet visit. I know you are all concerned with the results so let me tell you upfront we are both fine. We call this our annual trip to the vet, but it’s like saying our annual trip to the Super Bowl, because our vet is never in the same place from year to year.

The first vet I went to was in Norton MA. He wasn’t a bad vet. But his waiting room was cramped and I went there with Blake, and Blake did not like the vet at all. She was a terrible panter and shaker. And the vet was always running late. Blake was ill, and the trip alone got her so worked up, that the next year we went to a new vet,

This vets was in Raynham. They seemed like the perfect vet. There was a large waiting room, they were very good when Blake was transitioning to the Bridge and very comforting when she finally passed over in Mommy’s arms in one of the examining rooms. We were all very happy there, then my new brother, Jax, began crying out in pain. Mommy took him to Raynham. There was a new vet there. He said that Jax had a shoulder strain. Mommy said she doubted it was a shoulder strain. To this day she is still mad at herself for not getting a second opinion. The vet gave Jax some medicine for the pain. A week later Jax took a serious turn for the worse. He couldn’t move without crying, he had bloodshot eyes, he was in horrible pain. Daddy called the vet who refused to see him saying Jax just needed another prescription. Mommy and Daddy took Jax to the the emergency vet in Bridgewater. They told Mommy and Daddy there was nothing they could do and Jax was put down. When Daddy got home there was a message from the vet in Raynham giving results for a dog that wasn’t even Jax. Oh how Daddy wishes he saved that message. Mommy, Daddy, and I sued in small claims court, we won, but lost the appeal because the vet spent thousands of dollars on “expert” witnesses. Anyway, once a vet kills your dog, you sue him, win, then lose, you can’t go back.

So then the hospital in Bridgewater became our vet. They might have killed my sister Copper. We can’t prove it. Copper got her rabies shot and it caused a large tumor to grow in her leg. They operated on her and took it out but three months later she passed away in her sleep. They said her little heart gave out but could it have been something that entered her blood stream from the shot and traveled to her heart? We don’t know. Then we took in little Skye. The poor dog never breathed a healthy breath in her six month life. A week of that was spent at the Bridgewater hospital where they lost her. Oh not lost her like she went to the Bridge. They just didn’t know where she was. It took them a couple of hours to call us back telling us they found her and how she was. They sent her home but she couldn’t walk in a straight line. We took her back to the hospital but since they had so many different vets we got who hadn’t seen her yet and wanted to run the same tests that kept coming back inconclusive. We had to fight our way out of there with her.

A woman Daddy works with told him of a very nice vet in Middleboro. They took Skye there. Skye didn’t come home. But they were grateful to the vet because he told them the truth. There were all sorts of tests, operations, and procedures he could do, costing thousands of dollars, and at the end of the day, after much suffering, chances were very high Skye would die anyway. He helped send little Skye to the Bridge last night.

He was a good vet, but a little old fashioned. He liked giving shots, lots of shots, even when we didn’t want them. And he was very expensive. And he was far away. And old. He started giving some of his practice time to a younger doctor who we didn’t trust as much. My Daddy’s cousin told him of a vet he went to right down the road from where we were living. We made as appointment and were very happy with this vet. And he didn’t kill any of us.

But he too was older and phasing out of his practice. He had another vet helping him and we did not like him at all. He used to hold us by our front legs and let us hang to look us over. It took his and his assistant four time to weight Pocket getting different weights each time which is remarkable given that she weighs five pounds. Then he became insulting to us. He told us we had bad breath, said we had bad teeth, he was the worst first date ever. Most of all he stressed that I had to have my teeth cleaned immediately. If not it could lead to premature death and peace without honor. Mommy didn’t want me to get even light anesthesia but it was stressed to her the importance of having my teeth cleaned. He had me put on a list to get my teeth cleaned immediately. This was in January of 2011. They called in November 2011. By this time we decided not to get the teeth done, and to find a new vet.

We found one is Swansea, that my cousin Bailey goes to, which was good news, because we were running out of towns. We rode there in style in our new car seats. We got there and we found a nice big waiting room. Of course everyone came over to tell us how cute we were, again, being beautiful is work. We got brought in the room, weighed, and then the doctor came in.

I was up first. He checked out my teeth, and, while they aren’t pearly white, he said if we continued using some gel on them they should be fine. He found everything about me perfect and Pocket the same and it is one of the best vet experiences we’ve had. And we’re quite confident he won’t kill either one of us.