One cold morning last week our dad got out of bed, picked up Pocket, and prepared to turn up the heat and get us ready to go outside to do our business. Daddy had to pick up Pocket because if she is left to her own devices, she might jump down and soil the floor.
A soiled floor is what they found. Between the couch and the recliner was a dried brown puddle. Daddy and Pocket bent down to examine it. Given its composition, they could not determine it if was poop or puke. Daddy cleaned it up.
He went back to the bedroom and asked Mommy if either of us had put either Pocket or I back in bed the night before. She said she hadn’t. Pocket could not have been the stain maker. She can’t get back in bed without help. And I wouldn’t get out of bed if it was on fire.
I blamed a vermin. Occasionally, Pocket and I will jump off our Mom’s lap and begin barking and chase some unseen creature that we are convinced is defiling our floors.
The unseen vermin was my creation. I knew someday something would happen and blame would need to be assigned. A non-existent vermin was the perfect pasty. And Pocker was a great accomplice She didn’t know if the vermin existed or not, but when I jumped down and barked Pocket would always follow.
Now back to the stain. My parents debated where it came from. I kept blaming the vermin. I had Daddy on board. Mommy was skeptical.
Truthfully, I knew had the stain got there, but I was staying quiet.
I was able to pull off the ruse until Saturday night. Mommy’s brother and his wife were over. Mommy’s brother was sitting in the recliner next to her’s. I was on Mommy’s lap. I felt a gurgle in my belly and relieved it by passing a little wind. Pocket lifted her nose then scurried on Mommy’s brother’s lap. Everyone remarked how unusual it was for Pocket. I moved a little bit and realized why Pocket had moved.
Just as I had on the floor a few nights before I had expressed my anal glands, this time on Mommy’s shirt. Somehow she hadn’t noticed but when she stood up the brown stain was prominently displayed on her white shirt. Mommy picked me up and held me in front of the stair to try and cover my blunt expression. She also hoped that no one noticed the horrid smell. This didn’t bother me. With my body blocking the shirt everyone would think she was the cause of the smell.
I wish I could say I was sorry but I am a dog with a lot on her mind, and sometimes I need to express myself.
And it that doesn’t work then it was the mysterious stranger who made the brown spot.
As usual, I am completely innocent.