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
Showing posts with label Rain smells like Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rain smells like Easter. Show all posts

Sunday, August 15, 2021

 


Momma!

 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.


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 Amazon.com. 

Yep. there it is.


Love you, Peaches