Pocket Dog: Conflicted Cardinal Fan

Two years ago a St Louis Cardinals cap landed in my Pappy’s front yard.  We had friends in St Louis, and Foley struck a deal with the birds to bring the Cardinals luck.  In exchange they dropped the cap in Grampy’s yard.  You can read about it here:  http://foleymonsterandpocket.blogspot.com/2011/10/pocket-is-for-birds.html

Since that time I have been a Cardinals fan.  Now our house was a Red Sox house but Daddy told me it was OK to be a Cardinals fans because the two teams rarely played, and it only mattered if they met in this thing called the World Series.  So everyone in the house rooted for the Red Sox, and so did I, but I also rooted for the Cardinals.

I don’t pay too much attention to what is in the news or on the TV.  River always barks at the television if there is an animal on it but I don’t pay it no never mind.  If there was something important going on I always relied on Foley to tell me about it, and even when she did, I still didn’t find it any reason to stop chasing my ball.

But, when I heard Mommy and Daddy talking about the World Series starting I climbed into my Triangular Kitty Condo, dug through the drawers, found my Cardinals rally cap, slipped it on, and stepped out into the living room.

Daddy looked at me and asked why I was wearing a Cardinals cap.  I told him it was World Series time, the Cardinals were playing, and they needed my rally cap.  Daddy told me, in that tone of voice I hate (it sounds like he’s telling me something I should already know) that I couldn’t wear the cap because they were playing the Red Sox.

Oh man!  This wasn’t supposed to happen!  What was a good dog to do?

As you know us dogs main weapon is our loyalty and a fanatical devotion to our parents….our two main weapons are loyalty, faithfulness and a fanatical devotion to our parents….our three main weapons are loyalty, faithfulness, cuteness and a  fanatical devotion to our parents….our four main weapons...never mind.

So I was loyal to the Cardinals, but I was loyal to Daddy, and I can’t root for both teams. A Pocket divided against herself cannot stand, and neither can a Pocket balanced on the arm of a chair.

I have tried to be neutral but it has been hard.  There were the two fat guys who tripped over one another at third base Saturday night and that caused a lot of yelling which made me retreat to my condo (Foley used to run upstairs, stop on the landing, turn, and give my parents a look of disgust when they yelled, then go under the bed.  But we don’t have an upstairs anymore so I only had my condo) and the same thing happened on Sunday when the Wong runner got called out at first.  Not only did that make me retreat to my condo but it made my bowels turn to water the next morning.

Luckily there was not a lot of yelling Monday night, but there is much yelling in the forecast.  

Mommy understands, she told me if the Cardinals win or the Red Sox win I’m a loyal dog and a winner either way.  That was sweet.  But it’s hard to feel like a winner when you standing in a puddle of your own poo.

So go Red Sox, or go Cardinals, go get this over with quick.  My tummy can’t take much more of this.  But I do enjoy the eighth inning in Boston when the understanding fans sing “Sweet Pocket Dog” to me to ease my indigestion:

Where it began,

You can't remember knowin'

But don’t worry if you got it wrong

Root for the Cards

Or maybe your Dad’s Red Sox

It only lasts seven games long.

Paws touchin’ paws

Reachin' out, touchin' me, touchin' you

Sweet Pocket Dog

(Bark Bark Bark)

The tension upsets your poo

(Your poo, your poo, your poo)

Sweet Pocket Dog

(Bark Bark Bark)

The tension upsets your poo

(Your poo, your poo, your poo)

Pocket is for the Birds

In between our modular home and the one to our left is Mommy’s gardens. On the edge of the gardens is a black dual bird feeder holder, one very big, one very small. Next to the feeders are two thin fern trees where thousands of birds live. There are Blue Jays, Robins, Sparrows, all different types of pretty birds. Foley ignores the birds like she ignores most things but I’ve become friends with them.

I have reached an agreement with them. They talk to the big birds for us so they don’t swoop down and carry us off. And I chase off any vermin that comes near them to steal the food.

When Daddy just takes us out to pee I usually hang out at the feeder and discuss the news of the day. One day, late in August, a pretty red bird was eating some of the seed that fell to the ground. I wandered over, pretending to smell for a proper pee spot, because neither Daddy or Foley liked me talking to the birds, and found a pretty red bird. I asked him what kind of bird he was and he said he was a Cardinal.

I told them I had heard of them while watching baseball with Daddy. He asked if Daddy was the one who had put out all this delicious food out for them and I said yes. He then said the birds wanted to thank Daddy. He told me to have Daddy put all his money on the Cardinals winning the World Series. I shook my head and told him Daddy said the Red Sox were going to win the World Series. The bird told me that wasn’t going to happen because their pitching staff did nothing but drink beer, eat chicken, and play video games.

I aarfed. Like that was possible. But the cardinal told me he knew it was true and he was going to prove it to me. He was going to drop a Cardinals cap on the driveway for me. He then flew away.

Later that night I told Foley and she laughed too. “Don’t listen to bird Pocket, there is a reason they call them bird brains.”

Just before the beginning of September I saw that cardinal again. I asked him about the cap and he said he dropped it and an old man picked it up and brought it in his house. There were plenty of old men here in the Village of the Pruned but he said not here, a couple of miles way from here.

This was unfortunate because I needed the cap to prove to my Daddy that the Cardinals were going to go to win the World Series. Then, that night, he told Mommy that his Daddy had found the Cardinals caps in his own driveway. I jumped up in his lap and told him he had to go get it right away, that it was the Cardinals rally cap.

Daddy told me I was being a silly girl and put me on the floor. But starting that night the Red Sox kept losing, and the Cardinals kept winning, and Daddy began to believe in the bird brains. Without telling Mommy he bet the modular home on the Cardinals.. He decided, to insure the Cardinals winning, he needed the cap. But his Daddy, having thought that a Cardinals cap falling from the sky into his driveway was a sign from the baseball Gods, had bet his house with the same bookie Daddy did on the Cardinals winning, and believed if he did not keep the cap the Cardinals would lose.

When the Cardinals fell behind 3-2 Daddy panicked and decided that it would be better luck if I, the intended recipient of the cap, had it, so he stole the cap from his elderly Daddy. His Daddy chased him for half a mile but with bad legs and a bad back he fell behind.

So we are waiting for the game. The Cardinals better win. Foley has downloaded herself to St. Louis. They may have caught the rally squirrel but they will never catch the Rally Yorkie!

Then again Daddy and his Daddy bet their houses with the 92 year old man who rides around on his bike and rings his bell all day and Foley and I are pretty sure he’s insane so we’re not worried about the houses.

But to prove how devoted we are here is me with the Cardinal Rally Cap.

Go Cards, because we don’t want our Daddy and his Daddy being chased around the Village of the Pruned by an old bookie on a bike ringing his bell while being nipped at by a Rally Yorkie.