Pocket and the Buzzard

From the desk of Pocket Dog

We got visited by another buzzard again Wednesday  Why do these buzzards keep coming to our neighborhood?

I don't know much about these birds.  They just keep circling over our head, and dumping this white, wet, cold stuff on our grass and our walkways.  Tthe snow was very hard to move, wet and heavy.  It was very difficult laying under the covers in our warm bed with Mommy while Daddy dug out the cars and large spaces for little dogs to pee.  That laying all snuggled up was very difficult.  The scraping noises from Daddy's shovel, the sound of his head boinking off the walkway when he slips, his loud gasping for breath as he leans against the car trying to determine if he is having a heart attack, the whack of his shin on the car as he slips under it, all very distracting when you're trying to snuggle.

Then I hear the door open, and the phone rings.  The phone is on Daddy's side of the bed which means Mommy has to go to the other side of the bed to answer it, which disturbs Foley and me.  And it's Daddy calling from his cell phone.  How rude!  He asked for us to be brought down stairs so we could pee.  I don't know why he couldn't have just taken off his coat, his gloves, his boots, his hat, his wet pants (Mommy doesn't like the dripping on the floor), come upstairs and get us, then take us downstairs, and while holding me so my small bladder does not squirt all over the floor, put on his wet pants, his hat, his boots, his glove, his coat, then take us out to pee.  How selfish.

Now we had to get out of bed, and Mommy had to bring us upstairs so Mr. Paleface because his heart was not pumping enough to his major organs.  He took us outside.  I don't like to complain.  But I was not happy with is shoveling job.  I prefer there to be no snow.  If I get just a bit of snow in my paw I become as immobile as Stephan Hawkings at a triathlon.

We both peed, and then I took a Vick outside, not because I'm a good dog, but it was a comment on his shoveling ability and got brought back inside.  We got a treat, and Foley and I climbed up on the couch to watch Daddy shovel.  We began to make bets on when Daddy would collapse.  I said when he tried to clean up the snow between his car and the curbing he was parked next to.  Foley said it would be when he tried to remove all the wet heavy snow from in front of his car.  But he didn't collapse. So it was a push.  We'll continue the bet at the next Buzzard.

This big white vicking bird came at a really bad time for me.  Monday I made it through the day without peeing inside.  But when you have to pee 16 times a day a Buzzard is your enemy.  It's not just the crippling snow in your pads, or the fact that Daddy gets lazy about putting on his coat and boots 16 times a day to take me outside, but that the workers where we live came by  a while ago throwing about 100 pounds of this salt on our walkway and steps and Mommy doesn't like us near this stuff, afraid we'll eat it or it will get stuck in our paws, so we have to wait for Daddy to sweep it up, and as we mentioned, lazy.

When Mommy was showering I climbed up on the recliner with Daddy and noticed that he wasn't breathing, so I stood on his chest, with my back legs over his heart, and began licking him performing CPR:  Cardiac Pulimnary Pupificaton.  It wasn't working.  Daddy had the computer on his lap.  Foley removed plug from the computer yelled "clear" then zapped him in the heart.  Daddy came around which we were very happy about because Mommy would have been so mad if we had just let him expire on our watch.  (Plus I owed him.  When he was in the shower I waited outside the bathroom door.  I decided to check out the useless room across from the bathroom.  I forgot that the door always closes behind me.  So I got trapped.  When I get trapped I do the sensible thing.  I just sit there and wait for someone to find me.  Daddy came back upstairs.  he knocked at the door.  I scratched at the door.  He freed me.

I hope the buzzard doesn't come back to visit us this year.  I just don't understand what is up with the big bird.  They always seem so nice on Sesame Street.


Hoping this buzzard doesn't come visit you this year.  Let is stay up in the North Pole with Santa where he belongs.