Pocket Tries to Help and Old Political Friend: Fails

As some of you may remember, after Senator Kennedy passed away, I mounted a campaign to win his seat in the United States Senate.  I dropped out of the race after getting pressure from too many special interest groups, after being unable to get support for universal pet health care, and, after Foley caused an international incident by having a cat forcefully removed from it’s legal residence.

But I remain very respected in the political world and recently I got a call from an old friend whose campaign had run into a bit of a bump.  And that is how I found myself travelling to Long Island to meet with Anthony Weiner.

He told me of his past scandals and, having had my picture taken several times asleep on my back with my privates on display, I did not judge  Being a bit of an Internet celebrity myself I knew what needed to be done.  When people imagined Anthony Weiner on the Internet they thought dirty pictures.  It was my job to change those images.

I went to his apartment in New York and told him I would take pictures of him.  Because I am a tiny dog the only thing I could find to stand on to give me the right height for the proper angle was the toilet bowl.  Candidate Weiner told me bathroom pictures are what got him in trouble originally but I told him he would have total control over what pictures were sent out.

I climbed up on the toilet bowl with my I Phone camera.  When I did I hit the vanity and spilled a bottle of Usher VIP men’s cologne that splashed on to the candidate’s chinos.  He took them off and prepared to get new pants but I told him my pictures would only be from the neck up.  I asked him if I could have a few minutes to adjust the camera on my phone.  He told me it was not a problem and he would just check his phone for pictures of Miley Cyrus twerking.

I aimed the camera at his swarthy face and snapped the picture, but just before I snapped it, the camera slipped (damn not having opposable thumbs) and I took a picture of his naughty bits by accident.  I took a picture of his naughty bits by accident twelve times.

“Did you take a picture of my  naughty bits?” the candidate asked

“Of course not,” I told him as I desperately tried to clear the pictures of his naughty bits,  but darn these paws, I ended up sending them to the secret Twitter account I created under my superhero alias Carlos Danger.  But everything would be fine if I just didn’t hit send.

Then I hit the send.  I really have to get my claws clipped.  The Weiner told me I had ruined his career but I told him all he had to do is put a twist on the world’s oldest excuse.  Instead of saying “The dog ate my homework” say “The dog hit the send button.”

Well, anyway, his careers over.

And I’m betting you will thank me later.

Pocket Moves in With Taylor Swift - They Break Up - She Writes A Song

A couple of weeks ago, to take a break from River and all the pressure of taking over the management of the Brigade I took a short vacation.  I went to Newport to relax in the sun.  There I met a seemingly nice, Southern, blonde haired lady named Taylor.  We hit it off right away and she invited me to her mansion.  While I was there I had one little accident and she threw me out of the house.  I thought that was the end of it but then I heard a song on the radio and I knew it was about me.  I was shocked and ashamed.  I couldn’t download the song but I did transcribe the lyrics for you to read.

You, with your pees and your urine

And piddles and pisses that you do on my rugs

You have pissed on my feet again

Got me feeling like I'm nothing

You, with your wet stains under the cupboard

Making my feet wet when I’m barefooted

You peeing on the drier girl

You can take me down with just one single piss

But you don't know, what you don't know...

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Someday I'll be big enough so you can't wet me

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Why you gotta pee so much?

You, with your white pee pads

And your diaper liners and your disposable onesies

You have urinated on my flowers again

As if they needed watering

I walk with my head down

Trying to keep an eye open for your puddles

I just wanna have dry feet again

I bet you just pissed on

Not wanting to go out in the cold

But the cycle ends right now

'Cause you need to learn to piss by the road

And you don't know, what you don't know...

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Someday I'll be big enough so you can't wet me

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Why you gotta pee so much?

And I can see you years from now on the floor

As your parent watch  a football game

With that same big spreading pee stain

But nobody's watching

As you keep peeing on the same old dirty rugs

Wet and smelly because you never learned to go outside

Because all you ever do is pee

All you do is pee

And urinate, and piss, and have a wet bottom

And pee, and pee, and pee, and pee

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Someday I'll be big enough so you can't wet me

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Why you gotta pee so much?

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city (Why you gotta pee so much?..)

And all you're ever gonna do is pee (Why you gotta pee so much?..)

Someday I'll be big enough so you can't piss on me (Why you gotta pee so much?..)

And all you're ever gonna do is pee

Why you gotta pee so much?

Tattoo You by Pocket Dog

I have found while working for Foley as a legal aide has been fulfilling I have also discovered that she keeps most of the kibble.  Wanting to be able to add to the family coffers I have done what many humans are doing, scouring the Internet looking for job opportunities.  I found one in a story written about a dog salon in New York owned by celebrity dog groomer and upper class twit Jorge Bendersky.

Mr. Bendersky has found a way to separate fashion conscious pet lovers and their money.  He tattoos their  pooch.  Ouch!  When I contacted Mr Bendersky he told me:    "In the summer, they cut the dogs' hair short, so you've got to supplement the glamour. Having no hair is no excuse not to be glamorous,"

While I would hate to disagree with a New York based pooch stamping groomer I, like many of my pup friends, have summer cuts, even in winter, and consider it quite glamorous.  We have beautiful eyes, cute noses, and all different shapes and sizes of ears to supplement our glamour, which don’t need supplementing to start with.

But Mr, Bendersky is making money so there is a market for it and Foley has taught me where there is a market there is a will.  So instead of letting Mommies pick out tattoos for their babies based on what they think adds to their dogs glamour, I am going to pick out tattoos for my friends based on what they would pick, then I will upload myself to their houses and perform the tattoos myself.  Here is my list of my friends and the tattoos I have picked up for them.

Hattie Mae:  A hat worn by a Princess to the Royal Wedding so everyone will know what a Fashionista she is.

Brody:  I thought about food or something else he would eat but decided on a zipper on his belly so doctors can go in and remove whatever he has eaten.

Hobo Hudson:  A pair of reading glasses because he is an acclaimed author and to use to read when we change the background again.  

Emme:  A prison tattoo that says “Only God Can Judge Me.”  

Smoochy:  His Mom’s hand print.  

Chelsea:  A tattoo of Ashton on her butt so she can bite him without getting in trouble.

Leo:  His Mom’s drawing of him turned into a tattoo with a king’s crown on his head because he is a king.  

The Labbies:  A Wonder Woman tattoo for their Mom.

Lily:  A Sons of Anarchy tattoo to celebrate her love of motorcycles.  

Otis:  A tattoo that says “The Boss” so his visitors know who is in charge up in here (or there as the case may be.)

 

Tommy Tunes:  A camera because he does such beautiful camera work and he hates having his picture taken.  No one can take his picture if the camera is stuck on his skin.

Reese:  A big Reese’s Pieces on his back.  

Molly:  A Blue Buffalo logo with the word Mom on it.  Tashi:  A tattoo of PJ’s beautiful face so she never forgets the love of her life.  

Hannah Banana 2:  A delicious cookie so when our Mom looks at Hannah she remembers to buy us more treats.  

Orbi:  A video camera so he always has one on his walks.  

Willie:  A giant heart because no dog has a bigger one than him.  

Andy and Barney:  A telescope because they are always watching over our house at night.  

Enzo:  A paint brush so when he’s with his Mom he is always helping.

Meika:  The words “Stop sniffing” on her butt to remind Reese to stop sniffing until he gets fixed.   

Joey:  A Snoopy as Joe Cool cartoon because he is the new Joe Cool.

Molly:  A Downtown Abbey tattoo to help her if she gets writer’s block

From the Case Files of Foley Monster Attorney at Paw: 51% of $500.00

Even after suffering the type of knee injury that would make RG3 retire from all lateral movement I cannot stop working.  This week I represented Sundance a 12 year old Golden Retriever from Montana who not only ate five $100 bills belonging to his father,Wayne Klinkel, but, against the advice of the most renown dog lawyer on the planet, admitted it.

The good news is that my client was not being charged with ruining the money.   I was hired to prove that Sundance had such bad teeth and poor digestion that he did not destroy the money more than 49%.  According to the big book of insane human rules if there is 51% of currency remaining the government will reimburse it.  Thus, I had to prove Sundance’s inability to break down 51% of what he has eaten.

Also there were questions I needed answered.  Why did Wayne Klinkel have five $100.00 lying around the house?  Was he a pimp, drug dealer or purveyor of strip clubs?  Who has hundreds?  They are a pain to get someone to break and it’s a lot harder for a dog to eat a hundred ones than a single hundred.  Sounds like this money may have been a little dirty, or, since it was eaten and digested, a little too clean.

.  

I was told the money was taken out of his feces.  Feces?  Why is that the acceptable word for poo?  Every day in millions of conversations the words siht, crap, poo and doo doo arise.  Never does anyone say feces.  No “I don’t give a feces,” no “the feces hit the fan”, no “you’re in deep feces.”  It’s a gross, disgusting word, much more so than the supposedly bad words it replaces.  I would never eat my own feces, but poo?  That’s good stuff

I fed Sundance a large plate of chicken then waited for him to digest it.  Then I had my assistant Pocket take a taste of Sundance’s poo (don’t judge us.  As my old law school professor Ruth Ginsburgh told me when you are a lawyer you have to eat a lot of crap for your client.)  Pocket finished and told us she could not taste the chicken.

“Darn it Sundance, stop digesting so much!” I said.  Sundance told me he didn’t know how to stop it.  Pocket said she had an idea and consulted our Internet friend Barney Google.  Google said that, during the trial, to show Sundance didn’t digest well, we should feed him hot peppers, acidic foods such as citrus fruits, tomatoes, coffee and alcoholic beverages,

Just before the case started we began pouring beef beer down Sundance’s throat.  Once we got him drunk we figured it would be easier to feed him the rest of the food.  But it was unnecessary.  Sundance  found the peppers and acidic food lovely.

We then brought our client into court.  We explained what we fed Sundance and then waited for the result.  A half hour later, after some court clearing flatulence Sundance produced his stools.  “Pocket, go into the poo and see if you can find any undigested food,” I ordered.

    “Un-huh,” she said.

    “Pocket as junior partner you need to put your nose in some poo.”

    Pocket muttered,  went over to the poo and pulled out peppers, coffee grinds and three beer cans.  I knew we should have poured the beer out first.

    “Your honor, as you can see our client cannot digest food so the money should be replaced,” I said.

    “It does not matter if Sundance cannot digest the food you just fed him, what matters is the money that was digested has enough of the bills left to still be considered money”

I agreed with the Judge and produced the money.  The Judge asked me what was on it and I said feces.

“Feces?” the Judge yelled loudly.  “I am not examining anything covered with feces.  Siht, crap, doo-doo, poopies, vicks, number twos, big logs, excrement, the big deuce, sure, I will examine all of that but feces?  Blech!  No way.”

“So what about my money?” Mr Kinkel asked.

“With no other testimony I must side with Attorney Foley Monster and reward you the money.”

And once again, thanks to a big bill hoarding Kinkel, a dog who doesn’t know the value of money, only the taste, and food you should never feed a dog I have made legal history again.

Unfortunately my fee was a bunch of feces covered bills.

Michael Vick's Second Chance

As many of you know our long time nemesis Michael Vick was allowed to get a dog.  I don’t want to anger anyone but I don’t see the problem with this.  In the aftermath of World War One Adolf Hitler was allowed to rearm Germany and that worked out fine.  Hold on I am getting a note from Pocket.  Oh, it seems that worked out badly.  Very, very badly.

Well, this is America, and people do deserve a second chance.  Like that quarterback, can’t think of his name, he played with the Falcons, and was the first pick of the draft.  In the beginning he played well, but then things started to fall apart. He got in trouble with some illegal substance at the airport.  Later he got arrested and went to jail for a reason I can’t recall.  He got out of jail, went to a new team, had a great season, and then two terrible seasons after that.  Wait, getting a note from Pocket.  Oh, he was named Michael Vick too.  Wow, what are the odds?

So Michael Vick, the man who ran a dog fighting ring from his house, has been reformed and has a new dog.  Well that’s good news.  I know he is going to be a good parent because I saw a picture of him attending training classes with his dog at Pet Smart.

Wait, what?

I don’t have a problem with Pet Smart.  Any store whose employees allow dogs to put their paws on the tiles and don’t care if we pee on it is aces with me.  Good food, good toys, good clothes, good people, good training classes, good everything.  I gave it five bones on Yap!  I’m just wondering why Michael Vick took his dog there to be trained.

When he had his dog fighting ring he didn’t go to the local dog fighting place, he made one right in his house, because that’s what celebrities do, they bring services to their houses.  So, how I figure it, the only reason Michael Vick took the whole family to the local Pet Smart was to get his picture taken so everyone who saw it would say “oh, look at Michael Vick the good pet owner.”  

So, Mr Vick, I must say I am not any more impressed with your second chance as a pet owner than I am with your second chance as a football player.  Seems like, in both instances, at the beginning, you did all the right things, but now you are in your second season as a dog owner, and instead of doing what is best for the team, wife, kids, and dog, you are doing what is best for you, getting your picture in the paper showing what a good dog owner you are instead of being a good dog owner.  

I predict that your comeback as a dog owner will be just like your comeback as a football player:  In the end, failure.  But, in football, only your team loses.  I’m afraid in this comeback, something much more precious will lose a whole lot more.

Foley Announces Her Resignation As Doggy Pope

Hello my fellow beloved dogs.  After much thought and prayer I have decided that, with my advancing age, it would be best if I stepped down as Doggy Pope.  I no longer feel that I can carry out the requirements of my duties and think another dog would better meet the needs of the dog church.

(I’m not really the Doggy Pope.   No bunch of little red birds elected me to anything.  I investigated things and realized that there was no Doggy Pope.  But wouldn’t it be cool to be Doggy Pope?  Then I thought some more.  It probably wouldn’t be that cool.  But Doggy Pope Emeritus, that would be cool.)

I have been honored to be your Doggy Pope.  I think that we have worked together to make the world a better place for dogs everywhere.  Today I called a meeting of the cardinals to discuss my retirement.

(I did meet with the cardinals today and told them I was stepping down as Doggy Pope and they told me they didn’t care about a Doggy Pope and to leave them alone, let them fly, eat their seed, make their nests and care for their eggs.  I promised to let them be.  Except David Freese who I made stay because he keeps Pocket entertained with his ball throws.)

I instructed the cardinals what kind of dog I think should succeed me and then we detailed plans to build a giant ten million dollar leopard fur vagiina kitty condo on the side of the Vatican. (Ca-ching!  I get ten extra kibbles when I write a sentence no one could ever have imagined seeing in print.)  I will stay here during my retirement where I will not comment on what the new Doggy Pope does except for eye rolls to my staff and clicks of the tongue while shaking my head.

The reason I wrote this is that I am hoping, in the confusion of being Pope less, the cardinals will build a million dollar leopard fur vagina kitty condo for me on the side of the Vatican.  Makes as much sense a building a million dollar condo for the new Pope.  That is like have George W Bush living in the maintenance shed in the White House.  Then again he might do less damage there.)

So I thank you all for being my great subjects.  I hope I did right by you.  I know I am supposed to give you my Pope anklet to be smashed but I am buried it and good luck finding it.  And my red booties too.  Also n I am keeping the Pope Doggy Stroller.  So now I retire from public life, unless the Queen doesn’t get better.  I can trade in my big hat for a crown in a second.  Good luck and goodbye.

Foley Monster Represents Two Drug Sniffing Dogs at the Supreme Court

I, Foley Monster, have finally arrived at the moment all lawyers, both dogs and bipeds, have dreamed of. I, along with my young apprentice Pocket, am going to argue a case before the Supreme Court of the United States of America.

My clients are two fine dogs, one, a chocolate Labrador retriever named Franky the other a German shepard named Aldo.  They are two hard working police dogs from Florida.  Their job is to sniff out drugs: heroin, cocaine, smack, horse, kibble and jits, the ecstasy train, Blue Buffalo Crystal Meth, and they are the best in the state.  But, unfortunately, their reputations are being called into question by the humans in the Florida Supreme Court (you remember them from the 2000 Presidential election case “I Don’t Know What We Should Do vs. I Don’t Know What Do You Think We Should Do) ruled that Franky’s and Aldo’s identification of drugs belonging to two backwater rubes violated the constitutional ban on unreasonable search and seizures.

I plan to argue that the case should be thrown out of court because it is impossible for dogs to be unreasonable, we are very reasonable, we live in the moment.  To unreasonably search is to plan and we don’t plan, we react.  Dogs who work with the police have learned to use their sniffers to serve man.  Dogs can’t fake sniffing.

What the defense lawyers ask is if it is legal for a dog to sniff outside a house without a warrant.  Let me tell you, as the world’s foremost dog attorney, even if you spend all day licking a judge’s mouth there isn’t a human judge who is going to give a dog a warrant.  Furthermore we can’t control what we sniff, or ignore what we sniff when we sniff it.  We are as unable to go after what we sniff then a judge is to pass a dollar and not put it in his pocket.

What the real issue is, I believe, is that humans, who serve us by feeding us and then cleaning our waste product, know we are the higher race, and have relied on our genetic laziness to hold down important jobs.  But now, some of the more enthusiastic of our species have decided that they too can work (in the important field of law enforcement) and do it better than the humans.  These dogs are also planning to enter the fields of airport security, and any other job where sniff is required.  Afraid that these enthusiastic go getters will spread their desire to be self supporting to other dogs, as will dogs who are now attorneys, the Man means to squash our self-suffiencey before it spreads.

Such a fear is baseless because, while we like to serve humans, and use things we enjoy like sniffing and hunting to help them, we are far too lazy to work full time.  It is a fear that I plan to alleviate at the hearing.  But no one should find fault when we try to use our limited energy to help maintain laws more serious than pooper scooper or leash laws.

I must take issue with a former Justice, David Souter, who said in opposition to a 2005 ruling that recognized our rights to sniff for justice that there is no such thing as an “infallible dog that never errs.”  What a douchebag.  

One of my clients, Frank, was brought to the front door of a house, where he smelled marijuana, sat down to tell his handler that there were drugs in the home, and the house was raided.  My opposing counsel states that Frank violated his client’s rights to privacy, but, hey, Frank wasn’t just walking by the house, stopped, smelled, pointed and said “jah accuse.”  How could Frank be at fault?   A human brought him to the house, and there must have been a reason the officer brought him to the house, so Frank was perfectly in his rights to point out what he sniffed.

Aldo’s case is similar.  Aldo’s human partner pulled a man over who had expired plates and an open beer container.  Aldo’s partner had his pet pal do a sniff test of the car and he, like Frankie, smelled the drugs and sat.  The officer found himself a Heisenberg.  The car was filled with ingredients to make methamphetamine.  The defense is claiming that Aldo did not have enough training to be a certified drug sniffer.  But hey, he found the drugs didn’t he?  You can’t watch a dog catch a 100 frisbees in a row and question if he is a good frisbee catcher.  And poor Aldo didn’t have the kibbles to get training.  Unlike me, who became a lawyer over the Internet, no one has figured out how to produce a smell test on the web, so there is no online training.  My argument for Aldo is “Badges?  He don’t need no stinking badges.”

At last I get to explain the superior dog’s point of view to the most superior judges in the land.  And maybe someday a President will have the testicular fortitude to appoint a dog to the Supreme Court.

Foley Monster Finds There is Such a Thing As Too Much Dog Human Personal Displays of Affection

I, Foley Monster, am a well known believer in the rights of dogs and their owners to share a close relationship, including kissing, snuggling together in bed at night, and being inseparable.  I recently became aware of a 44 year old California woman, Teri Graham, who shares my beliefs.  I am now going to let you read my live text chat with her and her bulldog Spider.

Foley Monster:  Hello Mrs. Graham and welcome to you and Spider.  I would like to say, as an advocate of public displays of affection between dogs and humans I fully support your interactions with Spider.

Mrs Graham:  Thank you Foley I wish more people shared your perspective.  There have been a lot of people judging us and I don’t think that’s fair.

Foley Monster:  Neither do I.  Now why don’t you explain to everyone how you publicly display your affection for Spider.

Mrs Graham:  First let me give you a little background.  Spider was the runt of her litter.  She couldn’t get to her Mother’s teats.  Then I noticed that she was licking the nipple of my son’s bottle.

Foley Monster:  Oh, that is so sweet, so you bottle fed Spider and she got the proper nutrients.

Mrs Graham:  No I decided to breastfeed her.

Foley Monster:  Well that is terrific, wait, what?

Mrs Graham:  I breastfeed her.

Foley Monster:  Your daughter, you mean, Spider inspired you to breastfeed your daughter.

Mrs Graham:  No I breast feed my dog Spider.  Here is a picture.

Foley Monster.  Um, well, um, that’s just terrific.  Um, Spider, how do you feel about this?

Spider:  I like boobies.

Foley Monster:  I hope so, you certainly have enough of one there.  Mrs. Graham, did you feel that you should breastfeed Spider because you breast feed your kids and she is just as much apart of the family as your kids?

Mrs Graham:  No, I never breastfed my kids.

Foley Monster:  Oh for God sakes woman throw me a bone here.

Spider:  I like boobies.

Foley Monster:  Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear Spider.

Mrs Graham:  My children do watch me breastfeed Spider.  They are amazed.

Foley Monster:  That’s one of the words I would have used.  Now, Spider must be a pup, once Zhe is older are you going to wean her off.

Spider:  I am two years old.

Foley Monster:  In dog years?

Mrs Graham:  No I have been breast feeding him for two years.

Foley Monster:  Two years?  That’s like 14 years old in dog time.  You got a teenager swinging off your nipples there lady.  Put the nipples away and give her a Frosty Paw.

Mrs Graham:  Foley, I thought you would support me in my public display of affection for my dog.

Foley Monster:  I do, but I got to agree with Mayor Bloomberg on this one, we have to eliminate the Big Gulp.  You’ve got to get Spider off the sweets.

Spider:  Sweet, sweet boobies.

Foley Monster:  Yes, Spider, get off the boobies.

Spider:  Hey mind your business there.  This is between my Mom and me and her wonderfully sweet milk.

Mrs Graham:  This is not just for Spider.  Breastfeeding Spider makes me feel like a complete woman and a better mother.

Pocket Dog:  Mrs Graham.  Pocket Dog here.  I am Foley’s sister.  She is outside gagging.  I was just wondering, do Spider’s teeth bother you?

Mrs Graham:  No, she is very considerate.  Her tongue tickles and I do feel her teeth but she latches on in a way that they don't hurt me.

Spider:  You don’t bite the tit that feeds you.

Pocket:  Let me check with my Mom to see if we can do it.  I’ll be right back.

Foley Monster:  I am back.  Mommy is washing Pocket’s mouth with soup.  She just did it for me to get the taste of this interview out of my mouth and she’s doing it to Pocket for suggesting she breastfeed too.  As for you, Mrs. Graham and Spider, I am going to let you go.

Spider:  Good, I am hungry.

Mrs Graham:  I don’t judge you for kissing your Daddy Foley don’t judge me.

Foley Monster:  I won’t Mrs Graham but remember I kiss my Daddy, I don’t bite his tongue and feed off of him like a vampire dog.  Good night.  And for those of you who think that this was another twisted story from my sick imagination check this out.

http://gawker.com/5952923/meet-the-woman-who-breastfeeds-her-dog-because-she-can