I've got the FEMA, oh I've got the FEMA, there's nothing a poor girl can do

Friday was a big day for us. A man from FEMA came to check out the water damage in our basement. Well if he came to see a natural disaster, Pocket and I were going to give him a disaster.

As soon as he rang the bell we put our plan in action. We began to bark as loudly as possible. We learned this from watching the show COPS. Whenever the police go to some drunk,shirtless guy's trailer there are dogs barking up a big commotion everywhere and Mommy says: "What a disaster."

So, to add to the disaster, we barked and barked. Then Mommy took him downstairs. Earlier that day I sailed the SS Foley into the sump pump. You want a disaster, sail your skiff into your pump.

Then they went downstairs. I pulled Pocket aside and told her we had to help. "Do what you do best," I whispered to her. She nodded, got in position, and took a vick on the floor. Unfortunately she hadn't eaten much recently and her output was not of disastrous proportions. Once again it would be up to me.

I got right in front of the door, took a deep breath, and let out a nice vick. But it still wasn't truly a disaster. It was more like an unpleasant inconvenience. I shook my head. It was time for the ultimate sacrifice. I told Pocket my plan.

Pocket looked at me shocked. "Not even I would do that, and there isn't much I wouldn't do," Pocket said.

But to create a disaster for my Mommy I would. I lied next to my creation, and then I began to roll in it. When I was done I was covered in vick, and man did I smell, a disaster indeed.

Then I heard them coming upstairs, and she looked down, and saw the smushed vick, turned, and saw a fairly fresh looking Pocket, then looked at me, and sighed. She asked the FEMA man if he had dogs, and he said no, and she said that this was the kind of disaster you had when you have dogs.

She then took me upstairs for a bath, where she pretended to be mad at me (in fact she continues to pretend to be mad at me, taking it a little too far if you ask me) and once I got finished she went downstairs, and found Pocket's vick, and sighed even louder, as Pocket and I sat on the couch, wagging our tails, so proud of our teaming with nature to bring a disaster of such proportions that the government had to be called out (and Sean Penn later floated by in a canoe.)

We haven't heard from the FEMA people yet but we are sure we will be seeing lots of cash after the disaster that Pocket and I perpetrated. I only hope when the money comes rolling in they save some for kibbles and treats, we deserve it

Where Foley takes charge of the situation and makes everything better

There is only so much a mini monster lollipop can take. My Mommy and Daddy are the two best slope noses I know, but at the end of the day, they are just average slope noses, and they are no way as cunning as a Yorkie (no offense.)

This was the situation on Wednesday morning. Our basement smelled like the underwear Russell wears on Survivor and was wetter than his shiny head in a monsoon. Our phone service was out, which doesn't mean nothing to me, Petco doesn't deliver. But our internet was out! An internet without Foley Monster is as useless as one without Google. I have a fan base eagerly waiting my every thought that stretches into the dozens.

Daddy was taking Grampy and his sister to Boston to see Nana (she is now at a re-hab facility in New Bedford much closer to home and out of intensive care so go Nana go) but he had two hours after Mommy went to work before he left and something bad happened. Daddy had an idea.

Here were some other ideas Daddy had when he was left alone: dragging Chad's bed upstairs, getting it stuck, and leaving huge gouges in the stairway; trying to shampoo the rugs and getting so much water on the stairs you couldn't walk up them without getting sudsy water between your paws; mixing her clothes together in the washer so they are all the same color; leaving the cover loose on the bottle of pills so when they are picked up by the cap they spill on the floor leaving Pocket anti-depressed for a week; putting the top of the orange juice container on loosely so when shakes it the cap pops off and she gets covered in juice.

Once Mommy was out the door Daddy went downstairs. I hopped up on the back of the couch. Pocket joined me. "Why did we climb up here?" Pocket asked.

"We are seeking higher ground. When trouble come seek a high point and a means of escape," I said nodding at the window.

"Why are we in trouble?" Pocket asked: Then came a splash, a smash, and a yell. "What was that?" Pocket asked.

"That's Daddy fixing things," I said.

"Why does it sound like Daddy's breaking things?"

"That's the way he tries to fix things," I said, and Pocket snuggled close to me.

There was stomping, sawing, swearing, splashing, and swishing. There was banging, booming, bashing, blasting and bleeding. Daddy came up and down, up and down, up and down the stairs and I told Pocket to ignore him (it was for the best.) Then he rushed up stairs and out to the dumpster. Then he came up in just his skivvies to change. He told me he was going to see Nana, would give her our love, then, because Mommy was going to the hair dresses after work, he would be home to clean up before she knew what a mess he had made. He then put us up in the bedroom and left. Then Mommy came home.

I didn't say anything to her. I watched her innocently putter around the house. Then she went down stairs. Then I heard crying, cussing, chomping, coughing and carping. Mommy then began yelling at Daddy which didn't seem to do much good because he wasn't there. She left to get her hair done, Daddy came home, and then he went to the cellar, and he yelled at her. This is what I love about my Mommy and Daddy, they fight a lot, but they never do it when the other one is near them.

When Mommy got home they didn't fight, but Daddy was going out. He left us home alone with no phone, no internet, water in the basement, and a hole in the wall. I didn't care about none of that stuff except no internet. I tried using Mommy's blueberry thing, but my paws were too big for the keys and when I downloaded myself I ended up in the wet basement. I went to bed grumpy, woke up grumpy, and spent the day lying in the sun waiting for the internet men to come.

It was more than 12 hours from the time we woke up to the time the men showed up, which is three and a half days in puppy time. I couldn't nap. I paced, panicked, panted, piqued and pooped. Finally they came in their big white truck.

I told Daddy to pick me up and he carried me upstairs to the modem and I watched them as they worked, then into Mommy's room to check the phone, then into the (ick) wet basement as they looked over the wires. I told Daddy what they needed to do, then I went upstairs and sat by the computer until it said I was connected to the internet. They said it was all fixed and I gave them a tip of the tail in thanks then got busy reading blogs, posting comments, and downloading myself to friends.

I am plenty tired now, I am going go sleep. I have a new job starting tomorrow. Whenever Mommy goes out I have to take Daddy for a long walk so he doesn't get into trouble. If I'm too tired to do that I am downloading him to Tanner's Mom's house. Then he can walk Ruger. That way Trudee and Mom can go to work without worrying that their two troublesome boys will cause heartbreaking trouble when they get home.