Thursday, August 6, 2009

In which Foley causes an international incident

It all began so innocently. Pocket and I were outside, walking around the grounds of our condo. She spied it first. The all white kitty, looking around like a sneaky cat, then beginning to slip into the doggy door. It was Pocket, really, the whole thing was her fault, she told me that kitty did not belong in that house.

Well I am the General, not just online, but in my community too, and I have a duty to protect my neighbors’ homes, so I ran up to the door, and asked that kitty what she was doing.

“What?” the kitty said. “This is my house! Why are you bothering me?”

“I have an obligation to the community to make sure no strange kitties slip into our doggy doors, if you could please just step out and let me see your tags,” I asked, very nicely.

“Why you hassling me? Is it because I’m a cat?” the kitty asked.

“No. Of course not. That’s outrageous,” I said. “Some of my best friends are cats. My fathers a cat.”

“No, you see a cat trying to get in a stuck doggy door in a predominantly dog neighborhood and you decide it must be a housebreak!” the angry kitty said.

The cat was getting me mad. I asked her again just to show me her tags because if I could confirm she lived there then I would be on my way.

She refused. So I nipped her.

Pocket and I returned home and I thought the issue was done.

The next morning I woke up, went on line, and on every site I visited there was a story about how Foley had violated Casper the cat’s civil rights but keeping her from entering her house.

“MONSTER DOG BARS KITTY’S ENTRY INTO OWN HOME” the headline in the Daily Doggy Space said.



“HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS (Foley still a bitch)” the Daily Prophet trumpeted.

This was terrible, my carefully crafted reputation had been ruined. I rushed downstairs to get Pocket and have her arrange a press conference when I found the crew from Good Morning America there, and Pocket on the couch, talking to Robin Roberts, and saying she knew that cat belonged in the house and I acted inappropriately. Wow, did she just throw me under the Extreme Makeover Home Edition bus!

I ran back upstairs. I wanted to jump on the couch and nip her, but that would only add to the controversy. I waited until the film crew left then went downstairs where Pocket was self-contentedly licking her feet.

“What were you giving an interview to Good Morning America for?” I barked.

“They made me!” Pocket said covering her ears with her paws so I wouldn’t nip.

“Had did they make you?”

“They promised me a guest spot on Desperate Housewives. I am going to be Bree’s dog.”

“Oh don’t be silly Pocket, you are not going to be Bree’s dog.”

“They said!”

“Oh like Bree is going to have a dog who poops and pees everywhere.”

Pocket’s head dropped down in despair. “And I was supposed to have brunch with Tony and Eva at the Russian Tea Room,” she said.

“Never mind that, we have to get out a statement, do a little damage control,” I said hopping next to her.

“I did that already, I dragged a newspaper over where I pooed.”

“No, Pocket, damage control for me!” I said. “I did nothing wrong last night.”

“I don’t know I just heard this interview with a Yorkie on the TV who said it was all your fault!”

“That was you!” I barked at her.

“Oh, right, I thought she looked familiar. Handsome dog.”

I looked her in the eyes. “Pocket, concentrate, we need to put out a statement clearing me of any wrong doing.” She nodded. “First of all I love cats.”

“But you hate cats!” Pocket said.

“Work with me Pocket!” I barked. She put her head down. “OK. I love cats. I was on the front lines of allowing cats on Doggyspace. I have never denied a request for friendship from cats on the Tanner Brigade. I got involved in this because I thought someone was doing something wrong. If the kitty had cooperated and shown me her tags I never would have nipped her.”

Pocket nodded and said she would post it online. When she hopped down I changed the channel, and saw Meredith Vieira speaking with a picture of me behind her and the text: “Is Foley Monster an anti-catmite?”

When my response appeared online I was happy to see so many of my friends respond in support of me. But then that darn cat, who apparently was named Casper, was back on the TV saying that I had animally profiled her. I couldn’t believe it. He had played the kit card!

The commentators debated whether I acted correctly in questioning whether Casper should be entering the doggy door, but they all seemed to agree that I shouldn’t have nipped him. What’s the use of getting into it with a kitty if you can’t nip them?

That night I couldn’t change the channel without seeing a picture of myself with humans questioning my integrity. Bill O’Reilly said the nastiest things about me. Larry King said he has preferred cats over dogs ever since Lee surrendered at Appomattox and Lou Dobbs questioned if I actually had AKC papers.

But the worst thing happened that night. We were all watching the President speak and at the end someone from Cat Fancy magazine asked him if he had heard about my incident with Casper.

“Yes, I did hear that Foley Monster tried to keep a kitty from entering his own home,” the President answered, “and while I don’t have all the facts, I can say that Foley Monster acted stupidly.”

“No he din’t!” I yelled.

“Yes he dit!” Pocket said.

That night when Daddy took us out to do our business there were a bunch of kitties standing outside my house yelling catcalls and holding signs that said “Down with Foley” and “Foley is a Monster!” I went back in the house and cuddled up with Mom.

I barely left her side that night. I felt terrible. I know I shouldn’t of nipped that kitty but geeze did I deserve all of this? I spent the whole night right next to my Mommy.

That morning, while we were still in bed, the phone rang. Daddy answered it and said it was for me.

He held up the phone for me. Who was it? The media? Another mean cat? Conan?

“Hello is this Foley Monster?” a man’s voice asked.

I said it was.

“This is President Obama and I would like you and Casper to come down to Washington for some kibble and bits? Are you up for it?”

Oh. Snap.

To be continued……


  1. You are such a clever little monster. Yep, that's how we heard it happened. That was a big faux paw. We almost felt sorry for the Pillsburry Doughboy having to 'splain' that one. When you get to the White House for the cozy publicity shots, pass on the kibble, don't touch the bits and only drink the bottled water.....Can't wait to hear the end of the day.....

  2. I have been showing these blogs to my Dad, he is totally in stitches and with your permission he's like to print these out to show his co-workers. But only if you allow it. Thank you so much for giving all of us something to laugh at.

  3. Wow this is good; love the connection with current events too!!


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