Welcome to The Levi and Cooper Chronicles. I'm the 'Cooper' and my baby brother is the 'Levi.' We're not siblings in the literal sense of the word. He's a miniature schnauzer and I'm a miniature poodle but our differences go far beyond our breed. You see, I'm the famous angel dog who blogs from the Rainbow Bridge. Well, not famous down on earth but up here in doggie heaven all canines get to do whatever we like and I like blogging. We dogaroons up here can also gaze down through the magic water under the bridge and keep tabs on our humans. Isn't that cool! After I discovered the magic water, I decided that little Levi---who got adopted into the family shortly after my departure from earth---could use a guardian angel. When he blogs he types in pink and when I put my two cents worth in I type in blue.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

First Trip to the Vets

My little brother is a putts. This morning our Dad dropped a corn flake on the floor and when Levi found it later on he just played with it. Granted, it's the first corn flake he's ever seen but even so you'd think he would have known enough to eat. I can't wait until he finds his first bug.

At the veterinarian's office, Levi was a whooping ten pounds, two ounces. I---an angel dog looking out for my earth brother---was right when I said the breeder lied when she told my folks he'd only be seventeen pounds full grown. The vet said we'll know in a few weeks because you can double whatever he weighs at sixteen weeks and that will be close to his adult weight. And she's sure it will be a bit more than seventeen pounds. Our MOTHEEEER is making a MISTAAAAKE with Levi. Every morning after she takes him outside and he's had a little play time inside, she rocks him to sleep in her computer chair in the kitchen while she surfs the net. That's not going to be easy to do when he's a two ton elephant sitting on her lap.

Levi got the works with his first wellness exam: an up the nose bordetella vaccine to prevent kennel cough, a pyrantel dewormer by mouth, and a starter kit for sentinel flea and worm prevention. He got his claws trimmed, too, and his stool checked for worms. Dad said Levi has flies. You got to laugh at Dad's language disorder. He meant that Levi has fleas but the vet tech couldn't find any signs of the varmints. The vet says Levi was the best puppy she's seen in a long time. I'll bet she says that to all new adopting parents.

I've got a play date at Rainbow Meadow with my new friends Nora, Nikka, Sam, Daisy, Mittens, and Pockets so I'm signing out from doggie heaven for now. My social calendar is filling up fast. ©

Photo: Levi played with his blanket and then wrapped himself up for a nap.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Naming Levi and Me

Since I arrived at the Rainbow Bridge, I've met a lot of happy, healthy dogs and, let me tell you, the variety of names I've run across is mind-boggling. There's Koobus III, Samantha, Lacylulu, puppy Bijou, Old Goofy, Rose and Sneakers just to name a few of my new friends up here. Someone at 'Dogs With Blogs' should start a topic about how they named their furry children.

When I got my name, Cooper, I was named after a sign along the expressway but that's only half the story. My folks had been swapping suggestions back and forth for over a week. On the day they finally found one that suited me they were doing that back and forth name game while we were all in the pickup truck---me on Mom's lap---and they had resorted to reading street signs and billboards. My humans were only half serious and laughing a lot. Let's face it, they were being down right silly.

One name Dad suggested was Myrtle. I hated that old lady name and I let him know it with a scowl. Dad said I looked at him with major disgust in my eyes, like the name hurt my pride. And it did. I wasn't a girl and I wasn't old back then, can you blame me? Not long after that he suggested "Cooper" and that sounded movie star cool so I wiggled my approval from head to toe. Thus my humans always told people that I picked out my own name.

Levi wasn't so lucky. My dad has a severe language disorder since his stroke so my humans needed to find a name that Dad could say. He doesn't have many words in his vocabulary. So Mom suggested that a good boy's name would be 'Levi' because Dad says that word every time he sees a pair of Levi jeans on someone when they're out and about. Dad liked the name right off and replied, "Father." It took a few minutes for Mom to figure out that Dad's father's middle name was Levi and he was pleased to have the family name passed down. It's hard to figure out what kind of personality puppy Levi is going to have when he's finished making his up but some how the name will probably suit him. He's a sturdy sort of pup, laid back and causal who got his name before he was even adopted.

Mom's other four-legged kids up here with me---Jason and Sarah---have the names of the human kids she was never able to have, so she gave her favorite names to her first two poodles. Speaking of

Jason, I wish I could let Mom know that he's forgiven her for corn rowing the hair on his ears that one time when she got bored. He says letting him get photographed with the Playboy Bunny more than made up for it. That was Dad's idea, but Mom wasn't to sure it was a good idea. Jason had been out in the motor home that night and Dad talked the photographer and bunny into letting him bring Jason into the Playboy Club for a photo shoot.

I'm signing off now to go wander over to Couch Theater. It's a great place near the Rainbow Bridge that's sort of like the old drive-in theaters for humans only instead of cars lined up in rows we have couches where we can lounge to our heart's content. We busy angel dogs love our naps once in a while, you know. ©


Monday, April 28, 2008

Levi's First Twenty-Four Hours

This is Cooper reporting from the Rainbow Bridge. I'm an angel dog, now, with the power to watch over my humans and their new addition to the family. Without further ado, let me introduce Levi, a thirteen week old schnauzer with big feet. Oh, my God! I think the breeder lied to my humans when she said he'll only weigh seventeen pounds when he grows up.

Levi's not a hell raiser like I was at his age, but he's inquisitive and he likes my old toys that mom washed up for him. My humans also gave him the new bed that Mom
bought for me a few months before I came to doggie heaven and wouldn't use. She ended up digging my old one back out of the trash. But I digress. Little Levi took right to the new bed and uses it for a playpen. He hasn't it figured out how dogs are supposed to sleep in beds. Most of the time he hangs half in and half out.

Levi is doing well with Dad's wheelchair. He isn't afraid of it like some older dogs are. He's already found the short cut underneath and he's learning to 'sit' when Dad transfers. Little Levi likes the tags on the chair's cushion, though, and he got his first "No!" reprimand for chewing on them. Something tells me he's going to get a lot more of those before he grows up because Levi's not going to be allowed up on all the furniture like I was. He's only going to be allowed up in Dad's Laz-Z-Boy when the two of them take naps. Levi's been up there already for several short bonding sessions, with Mom close by to make sure he didn't jump down and hurt himself.

My folks were happy that little Levi's first night in his new home went well. He didn't cry or make a fuss when he had to stay in the laundry room. He didn't even cry when he woke up before Mom and Dad. He just played with his toys and used his puppy pad. The only real problem Levi is having is learning to walk on a leash. He plants his butt down on the floor, locks his front legs stiff and pulls backwards with all his might. But I know our mom; she's stubborn, too, and she'll get my little brother leash broke. Otherwise he'll miss out on all the fun stuff in an earth dog's life.

Tomorrow Levi gets his first visit to the veterinarian's office so that he can get the paper work required for the puppy classes at the Humane Society and for the groomers. I don't think I'll get "remorseful" tagging along in spirit to the place where I departed earth---especially since they have a special room they use for families and dogs that are parting company and little Levi won't be going in there. My humans made a difficult but loving decision that last day and I think they know it was the right one. Little Levi is helping to fill the holes in our parents' hearts that I left, so they will be okay. He's a joyful presence in a house that would have been too quiet without either one of us there. ©

Friday, April 25, 2008

Wait Until You Hear What Happened to Me!

I've got some news for all my friends in cyberspace. That last trip to the veterinarian's office on Friday really was my LAST trip! That's okay because I'm at the Rainbow Bridge now and I'll tell you all about this amazing place in a minute. First, I need to talk about my last day on earth.

When my mom got up that morning she'd already had an appointment with the vet but when she saw me sleeping in a heap on some pee soaked newspapers, she didn't need the vet to tell her I was too worn out to stay with her and Dad much longer. But we went anyway.

The vet on duty was a nice guy and he handled me, my mom and dad with gentle compassion. The three of us were together when the doc gave me the fatal injection but to tell you the truth I don't remember when my spirit left my old body and soared to this wonderful place I'm at now. The veterinary had given me a fast acting sedative before the injection so all I really remember is Mom and Dad petting me and talking softly about how much they loved me. When I woke back up I looked at my body and was shocked to see it strong and handsome again, just like the Rainbow Bridge poem says happens when dogs die.

And even more shocking, I could gaze down in the water below the bridge and see my Mom and dad. They cried a lot that afternoon and I tried to tell them that the body Mom was digging a grave for wasn't really me anymore but they couldn't hear me. They gave me a nice funeral, next to my fire hydrant. My old body was resting in the small cardboard casket from the vet's and I was wrapped in my favorite blanket.

When I was alive I was a jealous dog. Once when a neighbor brought a puppy over to the house I lifted my leg and peed on the little guy. I'm ashamed of that now that I'm up here and I have learned an important lesson about love. And guess who taught it to me! When I got here at the bridge my adapted brother and sister poodles---Jason and Sarah---who lived at my house before I came along, were waiting for me. All I had to do is look into their sparking eyes to understand that humans have an unlimited supply of love to give to ALL their four-legged kids.

I've heard stories about Sarah and Jason all of my life. So I knew that Jason has a wise old soul, ever calm and very intelligent, and that dimwitted Sarah had been a puppy mill dog with poor health and she only lived five years. Mom used to say that Sarah was a sweet thing who should have lived with a little girl because she loved getting dressed up in sweaters and Halloween costumes. Mom would smile if she could see Sarah now. She's wearing a pink fairy princess outfit. Jason says that's the nicest thing about being up here, we all get to do what we love doing the most. Some dogs here strut the show rings---even the mutts who always want the thrill of a win. Some dogs run the tunnels trials or compete at fly ball. Some dogs just roam and smell the flowers or chase the birds or nap in the sun.

I don't know how much longer I'll blog from the Rainbow Bridge but I know I'm going to stick with it for a while, to help my humans transition to my replacement---they can't be without a dog in the house for long. My mom even called the place where she saw the schnauzer puppy a few weeks ago and he's still there. Mom told Dad, "That's a sign we should have him." She taking him to see the thirteen weeks old fuzz ball tomorrow and I'm going to tag along in spirit. If they bring him home, I'll blog for the little guy until he can take over this page for himself. In the meantime, Jason and I are going to go pee on some pine trees while our little princess sister sprinkles fair dust as she follows us around. ©


Beloved, Furry Son of Don and Jean

June 1, 1992 to April 24, 2008

The Rainbow Bridge Poem

Can be found at


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Bad Day and Grave Diggers

I am outraged and spitting mad. Last night I didn't feel well and my mom even had to carry me out to my fire hydrant and back again. I was listless, didn't want to eat and my arthritic bones were giving me trouble. As if this stuff and my bad heart weren't giving me enough grief, my MOTHEEEEER told my dad that she wanted to start digging my grave! Can you imagine that? She says she's too old to dig it all at one time and she needs to do it a little bit every day so it will be ready when I go to the Rainbow Bridge. A warning to you younger pups out there: I'm pretty sure that when our humans start talking about the Rainbow Bridge they're REALLY talking about putting us down i.e. sticking us with a needle that will put us in a permanent sleep. Next I suppose she'll want me and Dad to sit out on the deck and watch her dig.

I've got my sixteenth birthday coming up June first and I'm going to make it, by gosh. I'm stubborn and I know I can do it. So today I started eating again and walking better. That didn't stop the 'grave' talk, though. Mom is going to dig it and fill it with a couple of potted plants. Like that's going to keep me from seeing it every time I pass by on the way to my pee pen. AND she made an appointment with the vet for tomorrow morning. I don't think it's for the big needle, no I really don't. But she told dad that she'd always wonder if there was something more going on than just my bad heart if she didn't take me.

I'm going to read up on that 'Rainbow Bridge' place where all dogs are suppose to go when we---shutter the thought!---die. Just in case it's true. I'll meet my adopted brother and sister up there, Mom says, who lived with my family before I came along and I might even be able to blog from the bridge until my replacement learns to type. I know Mom will get another four-legged child like me. I smelled schnauzer puppy breath on her last week.

I'm so depressed and Dad has a basset hound face every time he looks at me. I even saw a tear on Mom's cheek. The next time I blog, I'll try to get back to recording my childhood antics. I still have to write about my lipstick fetish and about the time a lion chased me. ©


Thursday, April 17, 2008

My Fire Hydrant

A lot of you dogaroons wanted know how I came to get my very own fire hydrant. I have my dad to thank for that. He used to be a crazy collector guy when we first met….I'll explain more about that later.

The September after my adoption, he and my mom took me on a vacation all the way from Michigan to Colorado. I was three months old and they wanted me to be comfortable so they rented a rolling dog house to keep me cool and give me room to run. It was twenty-four feet long and it even had a people bed and bathroom inside. By the time we'd gotten the Indiana state line, my mom was sick of refilling my little water dish and she said if I was going to keep sitting in it and splashing water I might as well go all the way. So my folks bought a big, deep dish pan, filled with water and I played inside of it most of the way out to Colorado.

Back in those days---before Dad got the rolling chair---he collected memorabilia from old gas stations. Porcelain signs, oil cans and bottle, pumps, give-a-ways, road maps and other stuff from the 1900s to the 1940s. So every where we went on that vacation he'd stop at flea markets, garage sales, and auctions looking for stuff. At one antique shop he got it into his head that he wanted a parking meter but the one he saw cost too much so he started stopping at small town municipal places until he finally found one that sold him four old parking meters. Off we went with those things taking up space in the middle of my rolling dog house floor.

We didn't get very far. Just as we were ready to turn back out on the main street my dad noticed a field covered with old fire hydrants and he did a U-turn right in the middle of the intersection. Long story short, he bought me a big hydrant and another smaller, antique one for himself. I actually pee on mine but he just looks at his. Humans, go figure.

When we moved after my dad's stroke my mom made the movers dig up my fire hydrant and plant it in my new outdoor space--it's got a foot and a half foot pipe that goes in the ground. My old space had some nice scrubs around the hydrant, as you can see in my puppy photo in the right hand column. My new space is kind of boring but it does have a white picket fence on two sides. My mom says it isn't fair that she always wanted a picket fence but I got one first. By the way, she wasn't too happy about hauling two fire hydrants and four parking meters all the way home from out west either, but I guess they grew on her. She saved both fire hydrants and one meter from getting auctioned off when my folks did our major downsizing a few years back.

Some people say I'm a spoiled dog. What do you think? I think I'm just a normal, well-loved four-legged kid.

Oh, if you noticed the hole chewed in my lattice work to the left of the fire hydrant, I didn't do it. The yard rabbits did. My mom used to worry that it was my black friend with the white stripe down her back that did it. Boy, was Mom happy the day she saw a rabbit shooting out from under the desk. ©

Saturday, April 12, 2008

No Time to Pee

What a day I had Friday! It was grooming day and I looked so bad before I went that I wouldn't even let Mom post a picture of my pre-cut body. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. This photo (below) taken afterwards isn’t so good either. Oh, I got a good cut but I was not a happy camper. I was mad as hell.

I was at the groomers for three hours and no one would let me pee! I'm old; I need to do that more often now that I'm on heart medication. They'd pick me up and carry me here and there---the bathing tub, the blow-dry table, the cutting table, the waiting cage---and never once did my feet touch the floor. Even Mom, when she came to get me, carried me out to the car. Well, every dogaroon knows you can't pee in a car but the minute Mom set me down in the garage, I just let it go. And did I go. I created the Yellow River of No Return.

Speaking of garages, my folks brought home an interesting essence last week. It was the same smell as that wonderful black creature with the white stripe down its back that roams through our yard sometimes at night. I call that a nice barking opportunity and every time I give her the hi-nice-to-see-you-again bark she treats me to her perfume.

Last week, I was all around and under the car looking for my black and white friend, my mom yelling at me the whole time to get away from the vehicle. For two days every time I'd go outside and pass through the garage on the way to my fire hydrant I'd take a side trip around the car. The third day my folks took the car away and it came home smelling like soap suds.

Someday I'll tell you about how I came to get my own, personal fire hydrant in my backyard. ©

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Me and my Friend, Charmin

I love toilet paper. My humans buy Charmin Ultra and that's my favorite brand, too. I can snatch a mouthful, run out of the bathroom and half way across the bedroom before it quits following me along.

My folks play a fun game with me and the toilet paper. They take the roll off the roller and put the paper high on shelf where they leave it for a couple weeks, hoping I'll forget how to play the toilet paper game. Then, when they put it back on the roller, they sit back and take bets on how long it takes me to discover it again. I'm pretty smart. I usually find it right way and off I go with my mouth full of Charmin. Again.

I haven't had this thing for toilet paper my entire life. In my first two years on earth I was pretty persistent and played with my friend, Charmin, a lot. Then I quit for twelve years 'cause I got busy with other stuff. And last year I started the game back up again for reasons my humans don't understand. They even talked to the veterinary about it, as if she's a mind reader. NOT! No, doc, I'm not bored. I'm not senile and I'm not going through a second puppy-hood, thank you very much. I just enjoy messing with my humans.

For all you pups out there who also love the toilet paper game, I want to share my tips for getting around the traps that our humans like to set.

Trap #1) Red pepper inside the roller. This is easy to over come. Just turn your face away and beat on the Charmin with your paw until all the pepper falls on the floor. Then you can proceed as usual.

Trap #2) The child proof gadget. It has an elastic strap that keeps you from grabbing a mouthful of toilet paper and take off running. This is when you switch tactics on your humans and just bite off large chunks of the white stuff instead. It's fun to watch my mom's exasperated face when she tries to use my special puppy-pinked toilet paper.

Trap #3) The Cool Whip cover. Some humans will try to cover up the toilet paper thinking out of sight is out of mind. They'll remove the bottom off a Cool Whip container, cut a slit up the side and pop it over the toilet paper. Trust me, these homemade covers are quicker to remove than the time it takes your humans to make them.

Trap #4) The closed door. I'm pretty lucky. My humans can't close the bathroom door because it would make it too hard for my wheelchair bound dad to get in. But for you dogs who've run into this trap, check to see if the door has a lever or knob style opener. Levers are easy---I can open them---just jump up and pull down on the lever and presto the door opens. If you have knobs it's a much harder trick but I've heard of dogs who could master it. Don't be discouraged, keep trying.

There you have it, all my tricks for winning the toilet paper game. If you've learned any others, let me know. We dogs need to stick together and share the fun. And remember, if you can get your family to buy Charmin Ultra, it works the best. ©