My sister is a P.I.G. pig by Pocket Dog

For years I have kept a closely guarded secret that could destroy the reputation of one of the most important dogs on the Internet, but this secret is dragging me down, and I have to cut it loose, so now, I will announce it:  My sister, Foley Monster, is a pig!

Most of her piggish tendencies take place in the bedroom.  Since she was a pup Foley likes to cap off her evening by sitting on the bed, facing our Daddy and licking his face and arm.  This may sound cute but there are three reasons why it isn’t cute at all.

The first one is, as she has aged, Foley has become a heavier breather when she is agitated, and licking makes her agitated, so, while she is licking, she is also making grunting and gasping noises like the Williams sisters playing on Centre Court at the Wimbledon Finals.

So this is the sound that I have to hear next to me as I am trying to settle down and sleep.  Lick, lick, snort, grunt, lick, snort, snort, grunt, lick, snort, lick, snort, lick, lick, lick.  It got so loud last night Mr Furley banged on the door and demanded to know what was going on in there.

Now if this were her only noises then it would be bearable, but unfortunately Foley has another end, and out of that end comes tweeting, beeping, kazooing, bahfooing, lampooning, chewchewing, and ploofluing.  So, let me update the sounds:  lick, tweet, lick, snort, beep, lick, kazoooooo, lick, snort, lampooooooo, grunt, snort, lick, chuchuchewing, snort, lick, ploofloooooeeeeeeeeyyy.

Each night I become very concerned that, with her very unpleasing farting and wheezing the headboard will crash to the ground.

About midway through the concert of bodily functions the Heavenly Father puts smell in the ploofoooooooeeeeey which makes Mom go eweeeeee and causes Daddy to remind her that, when Foley was young, Mommy did not want Foley to lick her so now she  is stuck with the other end.

Finally, when Foley has taken in too much air with her licking, she looks Daddy dead in the eyes and goes “BRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUPPPP!” and Daddy can smell everything she has had to eat for the last four weeks.  So, in total, Foley’s sounds at night sum up to this:  lick, tweet, lick, snort, beep, lick, kazoooooo, lick, snort, lampooooooo, grunt, snort, lick, chuchuchewing, snort, lick, ploofloooooeeeeeeeeyyy, BRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUPPP. Mommy has upped Foley’s yogurt intake, so the plooflooooeeeeeeeies are getting less and less, but still enough to pop your eyes out of their sockets.

I retreat to the end of the bed, bury my head in the blankets, and try to get some sleep during the one dog’s disgusting band concert each night. Then Mommy announces that the lights are going out and it is snuggle time. Then she says “Come here Pocket.”

My ears perk up. I lift my head a little.  “Me, you want me?” She calls me again. “Me?” I ask again and she says yes. Then I walk up the bed, passing disgusting Foley who is headed for the warm spot I created>  I climb under the covers and snuggle up near Mom’s waist. Daddy puts his arm around Mommy, and they lay there for awhile, and I am between them, feeling like the safest most loved dog in the world.

I can put up with a lot of disgusting Monster behavior in bed to get to my snuggle spot and feel safe for a whole night.