My momma says that everybody and their dog blogs. I wasn't writing a single solitary thing, but I'm correcting that right now. When momma got me she named me The Pink Party Poodle for Peace, now I guess I'm The Pink Party Poodle for Peace Pontificating. My pontification of the day is to tell you that the purpose of life is to have fun, hee, hee, and chase lizards. I love to chase lizards--never catch them though, they taste like rotten toes.

I'm Thinking

I'm Thinking

Sunday, August 15, 2021



 I’m jumping, jumping, jumping.  I wait for you but know that I squish time. One visit on top of another, nap in the middle--like dog pile. Fun time, party time.  I am happy dog.  I lick lick. I hop on you—do you feel it?  I lick Dad and Sister and little Roman—although he’s not little anymore.  I lick Sweetpea, the puppy I found for you. I lick Laffee, and Obi Kitty. My family, my loves.

I’m the Pink Party Poodle for Peace. That’s my job here. Bear is the big gentle guy who teaches the puppies how to behave. Some came here before their eyes were open. They open them to wonderment.

Take care of business on earth. Don’t be in a hurry to join me. I love you, and this place—green as you like, space to run like all the dogs love. Momma, the horses are here  too, Boots and Duchess. They stand together head to tail and scratch each other’s backs. 

Old friends snuggle together at night. We tell stories of time on earth, and sometimes we help our earth families. At night—yes, we have day and night, we like sleep and awake, although we nap a lot, same as on earth.

You know how Bear, our Newfoundland, loved the water. I saw him this morning giving puppies swimming lessons.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

I Peaches am a Happy Dog

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

I Peaches am a Happy Dog

I Peaches, am a happy dog.

I was happy on earth, I'm happy here.

My job is to help others be happy.

I didn't have an easy life. I had Addison's disease, which meant my adrenal glands were stuck on low speed. Momma treated me for most of my 10 years on the planet. The last year she gave me fluids subcutaneously--big word, I learned it from Momma.

But, whoa, I loved going to the beach and on trips--I went on an eight state trip once with Bear my Newfoundland house mate, and my sister, that is Momma's daughter and her baby.

(And both Bear and I got McDonald's hamburger patties along the route, El Yuno.)

You wouldn't believe the fun we had.

We even moved to Hawaii for a year. Yep, Bear and me and the family. And I agreed to ride in a carrier, didn't like it, but trusted that we would arrive someplace stupendous.

In Hawaii, we met a Veterinarian who showed us where to get my medication on the internet.  And when it arrived in the mail, the package contained a dog biscuit for me.

That's it. You must seize the day.

Dog's know it.
Our job is to teach humans how to do it.
Listen to your dog.

I still dream I am sleeping with Momma, and Dad was pretty fun too.
Here's the pup I picked out for you.

Monday, July 17, 2017

It Rains Here Too

It’s the sort of rain that makes the air smell like Easter, and you want to run and run, try not to trip on your tongue, fall down, let your tongue droop onto the ground, get up, run again.

Momma, don’t be in a hurry to get here, you still have work to do on earth, and it is splendid on earth, just know that the other side is even more splendid.

I see you published your book A Dog, God, & Me. I’m glad.

Gabe’s glad too. Even though the book is fiction, Gabe loves that he is the hero in it when he find’s God’s book.

Gabe plays with me every day, hips don’t hurt, and he runs just like me.  Tell sister that Aske is like a sentinel watching over everything—we dogs like a job. Play is good, being useful a necessary.

Remember when I was a puppy and too small to get on the bed? I would jump up on Gabe's back who was lying right next to you on the floor, and then I could pop right up on the bed.

He never got on the bed and was never jealous. He lived longer on earth because he could help me.

Momma, I hope people buy your book. It’s being passed around here, and a lot of fur faces have licked it—I suppose that’s the reason the cover is so shiny. The book that it's about will show up again on earth at another time, in someone else’s hands.

And since it is your conversation with God, (we call it the 'Great Spirit" here) someone else's conversation will be a different story.

People can find it now, not in the forest, but on 

Yep. there it is.

Love you, Peaches

Thursday, May 18, 2017

You Know What?

I saw John yesterday.

You know how he leaned on a cane because his back hurt?

Well, that John was striding along like a young buck. He carried something that looked like a tool case, so I followed him.

He came to an area where parts of an airplane were strewn around on the ground.

Tell Dad. 

John was building a gyrocopter just like he and Dad had planned.

See, it really is as they say as above so below, or in this case as below so above.

Just because you are on the other side doesn’t mean you don’t have wants and dreams.

I’m going over to say Hi.

He’ll remember me.

It’ll be noisy around here when he gets that gyrocopter going, but I won’t have to worry that he’ll kill himself.

Momma, here’ a lick for you. Love you always.


Wednesday, May 3, 2017

I'm in Heaven

I haven't blogged for awhile, but I see that you earth people have been checking in. I intended to write--dictate, whatever I am doing here. I really did, but I've been having so much fun with Silver, and Gabe and Jewell, Momma's other dogs, that time slipped away.

Time is a no-thing here. 

It seems like only a second ago, Momma, that I was in your arms, and it will only be a second for me--longer for you--until I lick your face again.

What fun we will have. And you won't have to give me intravenous fluids daily as you did on earth.

I'm well, happy, and running like a year-old pup.

I'm not rushing you to leave your earthly existence, mind you, just telling you that heaven is heaven, and not to worry, and that life is indeed eternal.

I know. 

I'm here.

"A miracle is a shift from fear to love." A quote from a friend Marianne Williamson

P.S. I'm watching over Sweetpea for you.

I see her in the yard.

Friday, August 28, 2015

I found Mom a Puppy

We did it, Mom and I.

We found a pup.

On Tuesday morning, her day off, Momma woke up missing Bear and me, so she checked on the Internet and found a couple of Poodle cross puppies in the Portland vicinity. She called one puppy owner and made an appointment. "I will call you from Wilsonville," Momma said, "That will give you about 40 minutes to meet me." (The owner had agreed to meet close by the airport, as she lived in Vancouver across the Columbia river.

This is beginning to sound like a  drug deal. It isn't though, all legal.

Momma hopped in the car and took off up I-5.

At the Wilsonville exit Momma had the thought--there's a pet store in Wilsonville, and since I'm here I might as well check it out.

Vola'. There was her pup.

Guess who gave her the thought.

A pup. a purse pup, smaller than she had imagined, but perfect. A Mal-Chi. Part Matise,  part Chihauhau.

I knew Mom would love her.

Hi everybody. My name is Sweet Pea, and I have a brother now, a Coon Hound, floppy ears, makes a God-awful braying sound. Is adorable. I love him.

Momma, get a picture!

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

All Dogs Go to Heaven

I’ve been going with momma to look at puppies.

I’m no longer of this world. I crossed over, peacefully in Momma’s arms on the front steps listening to the birds chirping.

It was on July 8 ten days before my tenth birthday. Bear, my Newfoundland roommate passed two weeks before me. He’s cool. I’m cool.

Now I’m encouraging momma to get a puppy.

The trouble is we haven’t found many.

I see dogs all over the place, but then I’m in heaven with Bear, and other dogs momma has loved. You see, you don’t really lose us. We’re here. We watch you. I tell Daddy to get his butt out for a walk with Momma so I can walk down the sidewalk as we used to. (Go to the forest. I love the forest.) I will look out for you.  That’s my job.

For the last nine years I had been treated for Addison’s disease—a condition , not a disease. My adrenals were not operating properly, thus I required medication. My pills (cream cheese made them yummy) kept me going and happy all those years. Hey I traveled with Momma and sister and Bear and Baby Darling on a road trip across eight states. I slept on Hotel beds. Bear and I stayed in a van in the shade while Momma and Sister went to Disneyland. At night I slept with Momma. I flew in an airplane to Hawaii and back. I had a good life.

One neat thing that happened after I passed was that Momma received a card from OSU Veterinary School saying that my Vet had donated to the school in my honor. How cool is that?!

Momma misses me, but I will find the perfect next dog for her. Hey, in might even be me in a new body.

The people in this house and me have discovered a strange phenomenon—I learned that word from Momma—there are few dogs available for adoption. 

Oh there are purebreds with prices of $2,000, or $1500, or $600 even. I wasn’t cheap. It is strange though, that the City Pound, and the shelters have few dogs. (Pit bulls end up there a lot.)

Now I don’t want any dog to be homeless, terrible terrible, people are our pack. We might be one dog to you, but to us you are our whole world. It just appears that people have become control freaks in their effort to control dog population.

It appears that the powers that be have tightened the laws so tight that the only mixed breeds available are designer dogs made so by breeders. They are trying to mix the breeds to strengthen the gene pool. Purebreds have developed some problems—as I did.

I was a great dog, a purebred, a poodle, don’t get me wrong. I loved and was loved. I just had a condition, and for the last year I was stuck daily to give me subcutaneous fluids.

The rules imposed on people wanting to adopt a dog are as stringent as buying a house.  Applications. "How much money are you going to spend on your dog???" Geesch. Whatever it takes. The dog must be neutered, given shots and micro- chipped. (I had to be micro- chipped to go to Hawaii. I didn’t complain. It was wise.)

I’m not a control freak. I’m a happy dog. Happy happy happy.

Lighten up folks.

I will talk more here on this site…


Peaches the Pink Party Poodle for Peace.

Do You Smell What I Smell?

I can’t believe it. The world is my smell feast.

Mom was telling me about dog’s noses. Of course, I know about smelling, and cute dog noses, but she learned some facts. Human’s like facts. We dogs like to smell.

Okay, here’s the story:

One drug-sniffing dog found 35 pounds of marijuana submerged in gasoline within a gas tank. Another dog insisted that there was melanoma on a person’s skin after the doctor declared the person cancer-free. Guess what a biopsy confirmed. Dog right, doctor wrong.

How do we do it?

While you, dear humans, can smell a teaspoon of sugar in a cup of coffee, we dogs—that’s me—can detect a spoonful of sugar in water the size of two Olympic sized swimming pools.

To put it another way if you delightful, wonderful, but smelling impaired humans can see one third of a mile, we darling stupendous dogs could see three thousand miles. It’s an analogy, we can’t see that far, actually our eye-sight isn’t as good as yours, it’s the smelling I’m talking about.
Researchers, that’s those smart humans who like facts, say that a dog’s smelling ability is 10,000 to 100,000 times better than a human’s. Gosh you poor humans, how do you function in the world? We dogs smell in each nostril independently, and move our heads back and forth to tell which direction the scent is coming from.  And I heard that humans can’t wiggle each nostril independently. Dog’s can.

Mom is surprised that I can’t find a hotel room we left a few minutes earlier. Maybe it’s because I didn’t know she wanted me to find it. I know a bloodhound would have no trouble. He can follow footprints. Now, how many molecules fall off the bottom of a shoe?  And to follow a specific shoe scent when the ground is littered with other smells, what a feat. A bloodhound’s big floppy ears help him, too, they fan odors up into his nose.

When you humans exhale, air goes out the same way it came in. With dogs it goes out the slits in the sides of the nose, and that helps usher in new scent. Also a part of inhaled air is shuttled up into special smelling glands that help us identify molecules, while another portion of the air goes directly into the lungs.
That way we can smell continuously.

No wonder my dear dog friend Gabe fainted when sprayed in the face by a skunk.

Talk about overwhelm.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Momma gets to keep her hens. The rooster has a new home, free range, they call it, except all the chickens go into their house at night.  Raccoon prowl, not if Bear, my house mate, was there. He would tell them a thing or two. He is big. Not me, I wouldn't tangle with a raccoon. Squirrels are more my size, and they don't have hands.

I'm stuffed on turkey. You wouldn't believe the smells that wafted through the house last Thursday, they kept me salivating for three days.

Live long, prosper, keep the faith--what does that mean? Whatever you want it to, to not give up, to aim for happiness, to believe in the goodness of life and all the creatures, to follow you dreams, your bliss, and your dog--he/she will not steer you wrong.

Bye bye, see ya later.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Hello again

It's me, Peaches the supporter for Mom who has been upset over her chickens. A neighbor complained, and she may not get to keep them. Chickens are all right I guess. I like egg yolks--cooked of course. The whites? Yuck! Scrambled eggs are yummy if you mix them up really good.

I'm curious to see if mom gets to keep her chickens. You hear about backyard chickens a lot, and you would think, this being a rather rural community, that chickens would be allowed, but it appears that the city has an ordinance against them.  We didn't intend to get a rooster, sorry, but the hens, they ought to stay.

Have you seen the little chicken house? It's not offensive.

Kitchen window view--I saw it once when momma gave me a bath in the sink. Yuck.

Look at this, maybe someday...Wow!

P.S.  A lady not far away has agreed to see if the rooster will fit into her flock. Crossed paws!