My Fair Princess Part III

Pocket was sitting on the couch looking out the bay windows at nothing in particular and nervously growling at the leaves stirred by the slight breeze.

I came down the stairs, looking spectacular, wearing one of Bauser’s Tanner Brigade bandanas and a beautiful bow in my hair. Pocket looked at me and groaned. “Oh what is your problem?” I asked her.

“I can’t believe you are escorting Princess to Magoo’s party,” Pocket said. “Our friends will never bark at us again.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “Our friends will hold us in an even higher esteem when they see how I have transformed her.”

“And you can put a bill on a frog but that don’t make it quack,” Pocket said jumping off the couch and running upstairs while I wondered why Bill would want to sit on a frog.

We left the house together. Princess was being taken there in her chariot, which Pocket said would go over like a fart under a blanket on a muggy July night. We saw the sinister Chihuahua sitting in her window, and we both stopped and shook our rumps at her as she howled in protest.

We arrived at the party and we both gave Magoo a kiss and a pair of peanut filled kongs which the birthday pup was very thankful for. Hobo Hudson sauntered up to us and asked: “Hey Monster, rumor is that you’ve invited Princess to the party.”

“That’s right Hobo, but not the Princess you remember, a new Princess, one who will fit in fine with all us regular pups.” My thoughts were interrupted as Princess’ trumpeters began to play her fanfare.

“Obviously Foley, once again you have worked your magic,” an overly sarcastic Hobo said. I ignored his witless gibe and hurried over to Princess who was standing, one paw up, tail held high, waiting to be escorted into the gala.

“Princess, what did I tell you about the trumpets?” I asked.

“It’s the only way I know when to get out of the chariot,” she said. “If the music doesn’t play I just sit there like a turd at the bottom of a bowl.”

“Well Foley Monster you have worked wonders with her vocabulary,” Zoe Boe said. I smiled at her and began escorting Princess through the room. My strategy was to spend as little time as possible with each individual dog, then move on before Princess’ new found charm wore off.

Then I saw her, charging across the dance floor, Mrs. Sophie Bub. “Princess did you see the ice sculpture of Teddy Earnest?” I asked trying to steer her in the opposite direction, but it was too late. Sophie pounced on her. “I want to know exactly why you tossed my poor husband Tanner Bub out of the kingdom just when he got sick. What kind of dog are you?”

I took in such a deep breath I was afraid I would give myself the snorts. We had practiced this for days, the measured, sincerely sorry response, but now, faced with an angry Mrs. Bub, would Princess remember her teachings?

“I have reconsidered my decision concerning Tanner and I think it is possible I may have acted hastily,” Princess said. I smiled, all my work coming to fruition. “In fact I can say with certainty that is was wrung.”

“There Sophie she said she was wrong,” I said leading her away.

“Actually Foley,” that buttinski Hobo said, “she said she was wrung.”

“No Hobo,” I said unable to hide the impatience in my voice, “she said she was wrong.”

“I think it was wrung,” Pocket said grinning.

“Me, too!” Sophie said. “She said wrung!”

“Wrong, wrung, what’s the difference!” I said pulling her away. “She said she was something that began with a w, ended with a g, had an r and an n in it and a vowel in the middle, let’s just move on,” I said pulling Princess but she was stubbornly holding her ground.

“So Hudson,” she said as I muttered an “aw geeze!” “I read your fairy tale, very entertaining, but not based in reality at all. And certainly not something apropreate fir a dig rescue sight.”

“Apropreate fir a dig rescue sight?” Hobo laughed. “I definitely think it was ‘Apropreate fir a dig rescue sight,’ I think the only thing not ‘apropreate fir a dig rescue sight is you!”

“Hey Hobo!” I whispered, “there’s half a steak in it for you if you back off.”

But Hobo was the least of my problems when I saw Erin making a bee line for us. “Have you adopted any of my suggestions?” she asked.

“Such as?” Princess responded.

“Not only doing updates for your paying memberships but updating the site for non paying customers too. Give away something for free,” she said.

“Give away something for free?” Princess laughed. “Somewons made too many tripz to the punch boal!”

I thought things couldn’t get worse. And then they got worse. Crossing the floor, in a beautiful dress and matching hat was Hattie Mae. “You no good no goodnick!” Hattie Mae said to her.

“Hattie Mae!” Princess laughed. “Ew am I supissed tu bee mud? Hah! I’m nut afrud of you, or any of ewe, I’m glud you’re off my sight and I the onely the thit makes me wush ewe were is so I can dilute you all over……..”

Suddenly the ice sculpture of Teddy Earnest tipped over and landed on Princess and all the water that had melted off of Teddy went on her and her paper became saturated. “I’m multing, I’m multing!” she cried as she sunk into the floor.

We turned to look where the statue had been and Pocket stood triumphantly. The Brigade all stood and cheered my little sister, and after a few moments of jealousy, so did I.

“Do you think she’s gone for good?” Baarney asked.

“The Princesses of the world never go away,” Hobo said. “Now let’s find Pocket her steak.”


Pocket and I were back on our balcony, Pocket chewing on her steak, me sitting in my chair, looking on jealously, barking over and over “give me some steak, give me some steak, give me some steak!”

“You know Foley,” she said chewing, “you did come close, and it was a bit unfair of me to pick Princess.”

“Yeah, I got screwed, give me some steak, give me some steak.”

“Maybe we could make another bet,” Pocket said, clearly not going to give me any steak.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“Well Foley, you’re real talent is with humans, I mean I think you could make any woman into a wonderful, tender loving Mom.”

“I can. I can. If I do will you give me some steak!”

“I will, if you can change this woman, but if you can’t, I get another steak!” Pocket said.

“I can, I can, any woman, now give me some steak.”

“In one moment,” Pocket said. She then picked up cell paw and spoke into it. “Can you send up Mrs. Gosselin please?” she asked.

I sat back in my chair. I was never going to get steak.

My Fair Princess Part II

I felt Pocket’s cold nose brushing against my fur on the fourth morning of our bet. I wanted to squirm down further under the blanket. I was exhausted. I had improved somewhat on Princess’ spelling, but her attitude still left so much to be desired.

I had received wonderful advice from 12, Chappy and Whiskey, and Chelsea and Ashton, to bite her in the butt whenever she got out of line, but man, did that behind taste bad. Then Whiskey told me to get a pooper scooper and use it to bite her, but I had trouble holding it, and then spent the rest of the day opening and closing the scooper part and singing Mac the Knife.

“Our guest is waiting in the kitchen for you,” Pocket said.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s improved two-fold since she has come under your tutelage,” my sister said. “This morning she asked for French Tust instead of Frunch Tust.”

I burrowed in deeper.

“You can give up now,” Pocket said. “I can give her the French Tust to go and send her back to the castle.”

I stood and stretched. A Monster never quits. I hopped off the bed and went down stairs to see Princess, with syrup dripping from her fur, frantically pounding away on her Blackpuppy.

“Princess, what did I say about managing the web site when we’re working on making you a good dog?” I said.

“I have too. A dog writ a blog abut reign saying he didn’t lick reign. I um deluting him, two poolitcal. I dunt want doggies ticking abut global wumming.”

“Dogs should be able to say they don’t like the rain Princess, it’s just an opinion. How about you, do you like the rain?”

“No, it mekes my ink run.”

“See, that’s an opinion.”

“Oh no, I hive to delute myself.”

“You don’t have to delete anyone, just let dogs speak freely, as long as they are not cruel to one another.”

“Oh, I dunt let dogs be cruul to one anuther, unless they by a supper secret prememum memburship and then they can du what viva they want.”

I shook my head. She had learned nothing. “Princess, you can’t choose your closest friends by how much money they spend on your website. Pocket and I run a web site with lots of friends and we don’t make any money off of it.’

“Mebee I should be tictching ewe,” Princess said.

I sighed. “Let’s start with this dog you want to delete who doesn’t like rain. Why doesn’t he like rain?”

“His huse fluds because the land whure it’s beelt is flat.”

“Well see, that’s a good reason, instead of deleting him you should send him a supportive message.”

“No, I dunt like him, he’s not an Americkan.”

“It doesn’t matter what country he is from, I have lots of friends, from Argentina, Mexico, Rome, they’re all wonderful people.”

Princess looked stunned. “I am repurting ewe to Hummland Sexcurity.”

“OK, what country is he from?” I asked.

“Spain,” he answered.

“Then send him a supportive message about the rain.”

“The reign?”

“No rain. R A I N.”

“Raign?”

“No rain.”

“Rain?

“Yes, you are sorry about the rain in Spain.”

“The rain in Spine?”

“Spain.”

“Spegn”

“Spain.”

“Spain. The rain in Spain.”

“Yes, the rain in Spain. You’re sorry the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain.”

“In the pline?”

“The plain.”

“The plain?”

“Yes, you’re sorry the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain!”

“The rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain?” she said.

By Jove I think she’s got it!

“So instead of deleting him send him a message that says that you are sorry the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain and floods his house!” I said.

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do,” Princess responded.

“You are the new Princess, you just did an entire line without misspelling a word. I’m a genius!” I said happily wagging my tail.

I now had a plan. Magoo of the Nazario Dogs was planning a birthday bash. I would bring Princess as my plus one, and show all my friends that I had changed her into a normal, likeable dog and savor my T-bone I won from Pocket.

I could hardly wait.

WILL THE LESSONS PRINCESS LEARN IMPRESS FOLEY’S AND POCKET’S FRIENDS ENOUGH FOR FOLEY TO EARN HER T-BONE STEAK. STAY TUNED FOR THE CONCLUSION OF MY FAIR PRINCESS.

My Fair Princess (Part One)

Pocket and I were enjoying a nice rawhide chew and fortified water while sitting on a balcony over looking our playground as it twinkled in the twilight; when I proposed to my sister that I, a dog of great renown in training, could take any dog off the street and turn them into a refined, well trained, dog about town.

”After all, look what I have done with you Miss Poops-a-lot,” I said. Pocket, showing her new found maturity, ignored my sophomoric remark.

“So, you think that I could find any dog off the street and within a month you can make them as suave and sophisticated as you?” Pocket asked.

“Of course not,” I told my little sister. “I don’t think it would take me more than seven days.”

Pocket took a long drink of her fortified water, put her rawhide in her mouth, and laid back looking at the darkening sky. “Would you like to make this interesting?” she asked.

“How so?” I asked.

“I find a dog, any dog, from anywhere, and within a week if you make them a trained, refined dog, I buy for you a Texas rib-eye, but if you fail, you buy one for me.”

Well this was going to be the easiest steak a Yorkie ever earned. I quickly agreed and gave her 48 hours to find the cur I would turn into an elegant Lollipop.

The morning of the challenge I awoke and Pocket was already awake. I got out of bed and went down the stairs and heard a strange crunching under my feet. I looked down and saw bits of shredded paper. “What has that silly dog done now?” I wondered.

“I am sorry, I burnt the muffins,” Pocket said to our guest.

“Yes, I see, it is very unforchunit,” our guest said.

I stopped in my tracks. No, she couldn’t have. Not Pocket. While she was growing more like me she could not possibly have become this mischievously clever. I hurried into the kitchen and saw her trying to catch a glimpse of herself in the reflection off the refrigerator door.

“Well good morning,” Pocket said, a wide grin on her little face. “You remember the Paper Princess don’t you?”

“Hiloo Fuley,” Princess said. “Pucket berntt tha miffins.”

“Excuse me Pocket,” I said to my sister. “Can I talk to you privately?”

“Well that would be rude to our guest,” Pocket said.

“Dun’t wurry Im atein miffins,” Princess said.

Pocket left the kitchen smiling and we walked to the stairs. “No!” I announced.

“You said any dog,” she said smugly.

“She’s not even a real dog!” I shouted.

“You said any dog, she’s a dog, unless you’re not the pup you think you are?”

Well, no one throws down the gauntlet to a Monster. “Fine,” I said. I got right up in her face so I could smell the burnt muffin on her breath. “I’ll do it. But no interference from you.”

“But I want to watch!” she said. I saw her green ball and threw it up the stairs and she took off after it, gone for the afternoon.

I went back to the kitchen, smiled at Princess, and took a long drink. I then scratched my head trying to think of where to begin. “OK Princess,” I said while thinking very hard. “Pocket wanted you to come here so I can help you be a better dog.”

“Yo beatch whut’s wrung wid tha weigh I ect?”

I took a deep breath. “Well to start with Princess, your spelling.”

“Me spilling. Whut’s wrung wid me spilling? Eye um e ecelant spiller.”

“Um, no Princess, fact is I don’t think you can even spell Princess.”

“P R I N C E A S S” she said triumphantly.

“Well you had me going there for a second,” I said. “I think there are a number of spelling rules we could go over to help you in this area.”

‘I mike tha rulez!” Princess said.

“Yeah, but these rules help you remember how to spell, like, I before e except after c.”

“Nah I befour mea, I befour everybuddy, I Princeass.”

I sighed. “OK, maybe we’ll come back to spelling later, maybe we can work on your attitude.”

“Whut additude?”

“You think you’re better than everyone else.”

“I um butter, I um the Princass!”

Upstairs I could hear Pocket laughing at me. She was right. I certainly had my work cut out with this Prince-ass, but I am a Monster, and a Monster never gives up.

WILL FOLEY BE ABLE TO CHANGE PRINCESS FROM A SELFISH BITCH TO A PROPER LOLLIPOP?

CAN PRINCESS LEARN TO SPELL LOLLIPOP?

WHO WILL WIN THE RIBEYE?

TURN IN NEXT TIME, SAME MONSTER BLOG, SAME MONSTER CHANNEL.