This is what happened: It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Daddy had spent the day taking things apart and throwing them in the dumpster. When he wasn't doing that he was packing so there was no time to play ball with Pocket.
Also at our condo we have a high roof and bad gutters so lots of rain pours right in front of our house. It goes on to the lawn, the grass grows high, and Foley and I don't like to pee on it because it tickles.
So Daddy takes us out the back porch door. We aren't fans of going that way either because there is a chestnut tree and chestnut tree balls, which, when they fall, are all prickly, and hurt your feet. But given the choice we would rather be pricked then tickled.
Usually the back screen door is shut and locked so the kitties can't get in. The back door is open when the house gets stuffy and we need some fresh air. Well on this day Daddy had been working Upstairs, Downstairs (PBS 9:00 PM Sundays) and while he worked he gives off a lot of heat.
The house soon grew hot and stuffy. Daddy was finally settling down to play some ball with me when he opened the back door.
Like many things in life Daddy did it backwards. He wasn't looking at the door when he opened it and did not realize the back door was open.
He sat on the floor finally ready to play ball with me. He threw my half torn, saliva covered, yellow ball towards the dining room door, I ran after it. It hit the wall, bounced, and rolled past me. I put on my rear breaks and slid to where the back door screen should have been shut, but it wasn't. In front of me was the entire world, beckoning me to come running.
Then I saw, in the back yard, tall as a tree, our neighbor, the squirrel obsesser, He was working on another contraption to trap the elusive squirrel he has never caught. I knew I was never supposed to go outside, but he was ten feet away, and maybe he had caught a squirrel.
I bounded out the door, no parent, no leash, just a denim diaper making my butt look perfect. I ran over the the squirrel obesser and he bent down to pick me up but I scooted away. I barked at him as I darted back and forth.
Inside the house Daddy heard me barking from a distance and said: "Pocket?" He got up, walked in the dining room, and saw the screen door open and his little heart jumped to his throat. He could still hear my playful bark and a few steps later her saw me dashing and darting around the squirrel obsesser.
He hurried out, picked me up, embarrassed that he had let me out, and about my denim pull ups. He carried me into the house whispering to me that I could never do that again. I told him I wouldn't but who knows what I will do when the sweet breeze of freedom blows past me. I don't worry about getting lost, whatever human finds me will know who I am.
I am Pocket Dog.
The pup in the denim diaper.