Pocket Dog and the handicapped ramp

When we first moved here I was a very nervous dog.  I followed Mommy and Daddy all over the house.  If they went out to the porch so did I.  But since they were busy sometimes they didn't notice when the door shut before I got back in. I scratched the door until they opened it. They weren't very patient with having to keep looking after me.

Foley just laid down and watched confident that Mommy and Daddy would never leave her behind.
(Of course they wouldn't, not only is she the brains behind this operation, but currently she generates the largest revenue stream.)  But I was afraid if I took my eyes off of them they would be gone forever.

About this porch I keep getting stuck on.  I must admit this thing fascinates me.  It's not part of the indoors, but it's not outdoors either.  It's where we get leased up, get dried off, it's like our own little dressing room.  Plus it has screen doors I can look out at either end and I keep running back and forth afraid I am missing something important.

Our first few walks were a bit of a misadventure.  There are a number of different routes we can take with many unusual smells.  I keep darting back and forth trying to smell everything I can.  Then I would come inside and Vick on the floor.

But now I am following Foley's lead.  She has walked these parts before and she is showing me all the good smelly spots.  Plus she is showing me how to walk straight ahead without so much leash pulling.  And I have tried to make up for my household Vicks with some strategically placed Vicks.

The property manager who didn't tell Mommy and Daddy that there were busted cable wires under the house and didn't get the shed clean out?  Sunday night I took a Vick right in his driveway.  Daddy said I shouldn't have done it while he cleaned it up.  But I think he was secretly proud of me.
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But not too much on Monday.  He took Foley and me with him when he went to the management building to get the mail.  Mommy told him this might not be a good idea but Daddy said "how much damage could we do?"  Apparently Daddy is not a frequent reader of this blog.

I didn't Vick on the way to the office but I am usually an after supper Vicker and we were still a couple of hours away from eating.  Did you know I have a hidden talent?  Like a camel in the desert I can Vick without stopping, just having it fall out of my butt like cans off the back of a junkman's truck.  As we got two thirds of the way up the handicapped ramp my cans began to fall off the back of my truck.

Well Daddy didn't notice. He walked in, got the mail out of the box, walked out, and stepped right in my perfectly round Vick.  He didn't notice that either.  Yorkie Illustrated must have come because he wasn't noticing much.  Then he stopped and looked at his heal and saw my Vick on it.  He turned around and saw the trail of Vick we had both left.  He said "Oh Pocket," which can be interpreted in so many different ways.  He had a paper towel in his pocket and he tried to clean up our tracks but he only smeared them more.

(And can I make the point here that by this time they were his tracks.  Boy it pays sometimes to have a lawyer for a sister.)  He didn't do much but spread the Vick around some like a politician.  THe decided to pick up the rest of my Vick and slink away.

As we moved further down the ramp he saw he was still leaving Vick tracks. Boy was he mad when he realized he had stepped in the Vick with both shoes.  He had more smearing to do and he said some choice words to me, but again, my lawyer says it was his shoes, and he brought us in the building, so he was negligent and responsible.

He hurried us home.  I don't think anyone will know it was me who Vicked up the office.  Unless, of course, they follow the trail left by Daddy on his way home.

But if they do I am sure the manager will agree with my Attorney:  this entire thing was my Daddy's fault.

At least that's what Mommy thinks.