Oh man, I think I should have jumped over something bigger than a dime at K9 Kamp. It seems I might be too wide for my own good.
Mommy is still painting the doors of our modular home. You would not believe how many doors there are in this place. They could shoot "Let's Make a Deal" here.
This is the first experience I have had with Mommy painting. Every four or five years Mommy paints. Foley has been through it before. Usually she likes to see me stumble into trouble. But she knew how much trouble there would be if I caused a paint spill so she told me what ever room Mommy is working in stay out of it.
Before I continue with my story let me point out that I am only six inches tall. That leaves a lot of door to be painted that can not get on my fur. I mean why even paint the bottom six inches of a door? What human sees it? They never look below the knob anyway. I have consulted with Foley, and while she agrees that it was entrapment, she won't take on Mom.
Mommy was painting the closet door by the kitchen door while Daddy was out. First of all when ever anyone comes in the house I am right at the door crack waiting to see who it is. If it is Mommy or Daddy then I stand on my back legs in excitement. But I don't have great balance on my back legs. I am not Nancy Grace for heaven's sake.
So this is what happened: Mommy had painted the closet door while Daddy was shopping. I did not go near her. Then she moved on to the laundry room door. Foley and I were sitting in the living room, just chilling, when I heard the car door shut. I knew it was Daddy and I ran to the door brushing up against the closet door.
As God as my witness no one told me paint needed to dry.
Mommy yelled at me. I turned around to see why she was yelling at me. Then she yelled some more. Daddy, carrying the bags, looked down at me and said "Oh Pocket."
Along both of my flanks (I think I have flanks) was white paint. Also my whiskers were covered in paint. Oh my gosh I got painted by a door! Daddy said I looked like Colonel Sanders but I am a peace loving dog and don't want nothing to do with no war. He was all like, let's take a picture, let's take a picture but Mommy had already picked me up and began carrying me to the tub for the dreaded bath. And boy did she scrub. I don't think this was a let's get the dog clean scrub as much as a frustrated scrub. I hope you have never been the victim of a frustrated scrub. It's very aggressive.
Mommy didn't get it all off. Which means Daddy got his picture but it's only of a little paint. While Foley agrees with my position she won't sue Mommy because she's a big wimp. Are there any other dog lawyers out there?
Sigh. Well, take this as a lesson my friends, no matter if you paint a door or are painted by a door you're the one getting the sad smack of shame.