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Don't judge me.  You're the one taking pictures of rabbit porn.

Monday Question

When people meet you initially, what is the first thing your parents say about you?

Pocket:  My parents apologize for our barking and tell people we really are friendly when we calm down.

A Determined Tupper, Max, Boris and a Villiage Bring Their Mom and Lily Together

When Boris joined his siblings Tupper and Max at the Bridge in April, he quickly rebounded into his mom’s dreams. He had a prescription for what he knew was the only medicine that would rebuild his parents’ broken hearts:  Another dog.

    But his mom told him that there were several reasons why they could not acquire a new pet, the main one being their health.  They were not capable of raising a puppy.  A disappointed Boris told her he understood and kissed her.  Both he and his mom were upset the next day because Boris could remember what was said, and his mom had no recollection of the visit. 

    Tupper consoled his brother.  Max insisted that they knew what their parents needed more than they did.  He suggested that they overwhelm their parents' dreams by continually bombarding them with the suggestion that the only way for them to be whole again was to get another dog. 

    Tupper told them it wouldn’t work. He knew his parents needed more of a reason to get another dog than just to make themselves happy, even though it surely would.  The only way they would obtain another dog only if it would benefit the dog more than them. 

    He also knew it would take more than just dream visits to persuade his parents.  Their friends, especially the ones who were dog lovers, needed to intervene.  Max and Boris wanted to help, so they were each sent out to go into one of their mom’s friends' dreams.

    Max took Angel Misha with him into the dreams of the Golden Girls’ mom Sharry.  They explained how Momma Pam needed another dog, but she was reluctant to look for one and needed encouragement from her friends. Misha’s mom Sharry agreed to help.

    That morning Tupper and Max found a new dog for their mom, a six-year-old Labrador Retriever named Lily, whose family had to give her up.  When the trio tried to enter their mom’s dreams to suggest she search for Lily, they encountered a brick wall.  Then Boris went with Scooter into the dreams of his mom Betty.  They explained how Momma Betty could help.   They needed her to find Lily on the Internet.  She did not let her angels down.  

    When Betty located Lily, she called Sherry.  The two of them talked to Lily’s mother, who explained what a sweet dog Lily was,  that she was calm, and needed nothing but a good home and love.  Max, Boris, and Tupper knew it was the perfect dog for their mom.  Now they needed their mom’s friends to convince her of that.

    Both women talked to Momma Pam, who was reluctant but agreed to call Lily’s mom. During the conversation, they decided on a time for Momma Pam to meet Lily.  There were no promises made.  Momma, Pam, would decide when she met Lily.  Most of all, she was looking for signs from her angels that she would allow Lily to become the newest member of their household. 

    Momma Pam brought her husband and grandson to meet Lily and help her look for signs from her angels.  When Momma Pam walked outside, she saw Tupper in the guise of a beautiful monarch butterfly and knew that he approved.  Max made his mom recall the Lily of the Valley that was planted along her grandmother’s driveway when she was growing up.  Then Boris K reminded her that he went to the Bridge on Easter Sunday.  The Easter Sunday flower is the Lily. 

    When Momma Pam and the family saw Lily, every bit of reluctance was swept away, and her heart started to rebuild at first sight.  Lily is now in her second fantastic home.  She has been told by her new siblings how to make their Momma heal, and Lily has been doing a terrific job.  Thanks to her, Momma Pam’s heart will be whole again soon.

    Tupper, Boris, and Max are thrilled that their mom and dad have a dog in the house again, and that she has made it a home. They recognize the smile on their mom’s face that has been long kissing and say they are grateful to every parent who made it happen.   

    It takes a village to find a good dog, a home, and a mom a good dog.

When Nickelodeon Threatens to Fire Patolman Chase Attorney Foley Comes to His Defense

  Dogs do an excellent job of keeping our lives, and all the drama that occurs outside our walls, separate.   We have learned to accept that we cannot change what goes on outside our walls and have the strength to manage what occurs within.  

    I have observed humans for close to two decades. I know that when they think an injustice occurs, they overreact, swinging the pendulum too far to the other side.  Mostly, I find their decisions humorous until that pendulum touches our lives.

    That is what happened this week when humans suggested that Nickelodeon had to remove Chase the police dog from the Paw Patrol program, for, according to one person, “brainwashing children to think law enforcement is a noble profession.”

    Chase, who had the reputation of being an exemplary officer, was distraught that his program had gone dark for several days, and, if it does resume, he may no longer be part of it.  I knew Chase needed legal representation, so I put aside my judge’s robe and temporarily stepped down to give the officer the best legal representation an angel can provide.

    First, I set up a meeting between Chase and the Nickelodeon board.  They are a group of five-year-old programming prodigies.  When we entered their pastel-colored boardroom, the executives began clapping their hands and running around in circles yelling that Chase was here.  The President of daytime programming got so excited he peed himself.  Several girls climbed in Chase’s lap and kissed him. I wondered who was in charge of HR.

    A cute little boy, sitting at the head of the table, ordered everyone to sit.  He yelled to his secretary for more juice, then read to me actual comments from their audience demanding that Chase’s merchandise be removed from the shelves, that the Paw Patrol be defunded, and in one offensive tweet, that Chase be euthanized.   “I don’t know how we can possibly keep him on the force,” the chair boy said.

    I stood on a chair to make sure the children could see me.  “I understand your concerns,” I announced.  “But none of those accusations apply to Chase.  Unless you have specific examples of  wrongdoing by my client and not these random observations about a few bad cops in general, I move that the case be closed, and Chase allowed to stay on Paw Patrol.”

    The board members roared happily and prepared for recess. Still, one of them,  a snooty girl who I could tell doesn’t like dogs and will grow up to live alone with a dozen cats all named Poochy, said that she received several reports claiming that Chase sniffed a woman’s butt without permission, that he had been caught taking treats out of the bowl in a store, he was seen humping a street dog behind a kitty strip club. Three chihuahuas had filed excessive force allegations against him.

    I requested a moment to speak with my client and asked him if any of the chargers were true.  “Of course not,” he said.  “I mean, I might have sniffed a random butt now and then, but who hasn’t?  And the store owners want us to have free treats so the Paw Patrol will protect them.  As for the sex, the bitch was in heat and seduced me.”  I asked him about the chihuahuas.  “Sure, I have hit a chihuahua or two but who hasn’t taken a swing at those yippy bastards?”

    Yikes!

    I met with the Board privately.  I determined the less that Chase said in his defense the better, just like Joe Biden.  I based my arguments on Jessica Rabbit  vs. Warner Brothers in 1988.  The courts ruled that no toon could be held responsible for his actions because he was not responsible for his behavior.  He was just drawn that way.  

    I took a lot of persuading but I convinced the board that Chase should be allowed back on the patrol.  When I told him he could resume his duty but would be closely supervised he growled.  He tried to protest when he learned he could not examine every woman’s crotch for contraband because he’s not the President.  Then I told him he could no longer accept treats for protection.  He began to bark and I shushed him.   Finally,  I said he would have to attend chihuahua sensitivity training and get spayed. 

    Chase was frustrated but he took the deal.  “I knew the snowflakes wanted to rip the balls off of law enforcement, I just never knew it would be literally,” he complained.

I went back to the Bridge and put robes back on.  I had learned never to decide if someone needed to be defended or condemned without learning the facts first.

At least the chihuahuas can sleep better. 

River and the Dog Across the Streeet

I am a peaceful dog who loves everyone except the dog who lives across the street. I spy him from the only window I can see without climbing on a perch, in the kitchen, by the porch.  He comes outside, and I begin to bark with a ferocity that can be little matched in this or any other neighborhood.

    My Mommy tells me to be quiet and that I am over-reacting.  The officious dog is a senior beagle, who is blind, has no teeth, and takes stiff steps because of his arthritis. Mommy tells me he is harmless, but I see through that veneer.  He is pure evil.

I have only come snout to pressed in snout with him once.  It was shortly after he moved in with his parents.  Pocket and I were in our front yard, enjoying our soft grass and beautiful flowers when the beagle’s dad made the brutal mistake of leading him outside.  I pulled on my leash and stood on my back legs letting loose a string of vitriol that would make sailors blush.  Pocket joined me, not knowing why I was barking, but she always has my back, unless she is the one I am sniping at.

The beagle had the gall to not react.  There I was, hitting him with all the evil I had stored inside the darkest part of my brain, and the beagle doesn’t even give me a glance.  His dad detected my ferocity and decided correctly that I, while smaller than the beagle, and being totally snoutless, could still put quite a hurt on the account of the beagle’s vision, orthopedic issues, and me being a tiny ball of rage, so he took his dog to the back yard ending our interaction.

When we got inside I growled about the unsatisfactory interaction I had experienced.  I could not believe the beagle had not reacted to my best barks.  Pocket suggested that perhaps the intrusive dog was hard of hearing.  She could be right.  That would be just like him.

We have a very dog friendly neighborhood.  People don’t mind if a dog picks up a scent, travels a few feet up their driveway and pees.  This greatly expands our urination distribution area.  

But not all driveways are constructed alike.  We have the greenest grass in the village.  Our flowers are carefully selected, planted, and cared for with love.  Our neighbors walk by and compliment my parents on their floral choices.  We are all quite pleased.

A few days after our initial encounter I saw from my window the dog and his seeing-eye human on a walk.  I shouted like Trump at a female reporter, but again, he ignored me.  I watched him cross the street.  He was on our green grass.  Then his dad let him take a few steps up my driveway.

Then Mr. Magoo peed in my yard, and on my flowers.  Oh, the humanity!  I barked with every bit of air in my lungs.  At first, I thought he would ignore me, but before he left, he back kicked the dirt, surely a dismissive gesture.

I barked that I needed to go outside.  Daddy leashed me and I, ran on the lawn but all was ruined.  I had spent weeks peeing a five-gallon autobiography for my friends to read and M,r. Magoo pissed on it ruining the story’s flow.  It was sacrilege.  It was plagiarism!  It was vandalism! It smelled like vinegar!

So now it is war. A pissing contest to end all pissing contests.  If you read this and can spare some pee, please mail it to me.  As a dog as my witness, I will cover up his pee if I have to drink a dozen bowls of water a day.

Never piss on, piss off,  or piss on the piss, of a Griffon.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Caption

I had them all by myself and didn't even get an epidural.  I hope their dad shows up for a midnight feeding sometime soon