Before my sentence, when Pocket and I were taken out together, Daddy held our four-foot purple Kong leashes in his right hand. If Mommy is with us she holds Daddy’s left hand while we walk. (Even our older neighbors, who have been married 700 years, find this behavior schmoopie). Pocket and I walk ahead of our parents two feet apart. This gives my sister and I a chance to do our own thing. We can sniff what we want to sniff. We can give each other a wide berth during bodily functions. And we can both suddenly, while walking in front of our parents stop, almost getting rear-ended and causing a two person and two dog crash.
I had no idea there was any problem with this arrangement. Sure, Pocket and I, during our walks, would continually dip behind one another so that we could be the one closest to our parents. We continued to do so until our leashes became twisted 10,000 times like a big, long pretzel which caused there to be no room between the two of us and Pocket to end up riding home on my back.
On Sunday Daddy came home with this tiny, peculiar red lead. It had a circle, then a minuscule leash, which split into two different strands, and, at the end of them were two clasps. I figured the old man had gone bonkers and was planning on leashing two squirrels together and then sell tickets to see the little varments fought it out in a pit.
Daddy took one of our purple leashes and hooked it to the circle on the little red lead. He then called us to come on to the porch, and he stealthy hooked me to one end and Pocket to the other. We looked at one another and tried to walk in the opposite direction. I slowly was able to move forward, but it was like I was dragging a five pound stone. I turned around to see that stone was Pocket, desperately trying to hold her position, as her paws dug into the porch carpet.
First, they took us outside. It was so embarrassing. The leash was purple and the stupid thing connecting us was red. How garish! Pocket was a foot away from me, and no matter how much I tried to pull away from her the distance did not lessen. When she stopped to poop I had to stand within smelling distance, and even worse, when I pooped, she was right there looking at me with those penetrating brown eyes. It was very disconcerting. Also, Pocket is a pavement urineater, and I can’t scoot away from her puddle, so my paws get wet.
We still managed to twist up the stupid little leads connecting us. I thought we had defeated it, but Daddy was able to untwist it easily. Drats! I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of this thing. We are destined to be on the chain gang for the rest of our lives.
If anyone has a file send it to us, I would appreciate it. I love my sister, but I hate sharing the bathroom facilities with her.