Cracking the Refrigerator Code

Since she was a pup I have noticed that Pocket, while seemingly very innocent, is, when determined, quite clever.  I have, sadly, had three sisters and a brother who went to the Bridge.  I loved them all, but in Pocket I saw a dog who might be able to solve the mystery of the most bothersome appliance in the house.

No, not the vacuum cleaner.  While I grant you the vacuum cleaner sucks, if we were to defeat it, while we would have the temporary reward of victory, we would more than likely get in a tremendous amount of trouble, and Mommy would just buy a new on the next day.

No, the real appliance of mystery is the refrigerator.  It is here where what we desire the most is kept.  Food.  And unlike a cabinet door it can’t be nudged open.  These appliances have been made dog proof because that’s the way the humans have wanted it.  
They have spent decades working on keeping us dogs out of their magical food storage unit.  They have spent years perfecting that white thing on the side of the door.  It’s only purpose is to make it impossible to open the door except by using the handle.  And they position the handle so high up that it’s impossible for a small dog to get to, and so close to the door that it’s impossible for a larger dog to get their paws around it.  I never thought we could crack it, until Pocket was born, and I started seeing things through her eyes, and realized, with years of planning, we could get that door open.

First Pocket invented these.  I know, we have never mentioned that Pocket invented this toy.  I know many of you have played with the toy, and enjoyed it, but it isn’t really a toy, it’s a tool.  What we needed was something long that could fit in our mouths.  We now pause until Brody’s Mom stops laughing.

The long snake toy is perfect.  But to do something as complicated as breaking into a refrigerator you have to be patient.  If we started using it for it’s true purpose right away humans would figure it out and take it off the market.  But now, since the humans think it is just an innocent toy, there is one in just about every home in the country.



Last week Pocket and I began to experiment getting the refrigerator door open.  I waited for a day when Daddy put us in the bedroom because Daddy does not really pay attention when he is shutting to door and it does not latch.  I am able to paw the door open and let Pocket out of her crate.  She picked the stuffless snake in her mouth and we walked into the kitchen.  She stood on her back legs but couldn’t reach the handle.  She then stood up on her tippy claws and was just able to get the tip of the toy through the handle  I then stood up on my tippy claws but my legs are smaller and I could not reach it.  I thought we were done but Pocket put her head under my butt and then used the strength she had built up from all those k9 kamps to lift me just enough that I was able to grab the tip of the snake with me teeth.  

I pulled it down until it was equal length with the snake on the other side.  Then Pocket and I each took an end in our mouths and began backing up and pulling.  It was hard to get traction on the linoleum but finally the troublesome white stuff on the door pulled away from the frame.  The door was open!  Pocket and I both ran for the door but it shut before we got there.  We determined that one of us, when we opened the door, had to stand with the snake in their mouth while the other explored what was inside.  We picked up the snake again, pulled, and this time we got the door open and I passed the end of the snake to Pocket who now held both ends.

I ran up to the refrigerator.  I looked in the door.  Soda (blech!) and beer (hmmm, but no opener.)  Everything else in the drawers were in plastic bottles.  Then I put my paws on the first shelf.  There was a drawer below us.  I tried to open it with my paws but could not do it.  Then I realized what I needed.  A butt scratcher.  Daddy uses it to get Pocket’s ball when it gets stuck under furniture.  I picked up the scratcher and put it in my mouth then walked back to the refrigerator.  This was very difficult.  I had to hold the non scratcher end in my mouth and then lifted it until it was under the handle of the drawer and pulled.  The drawer opened!  I scampered over and looked inside. .  It was filled with fruits and vegetables.  I lifted a bag out tore it open and shared a baby carrot with Pocket.  I liked them but Pocket spit hers out.

Then I put the carrots back and looked on the first shelf.  Butter:  no good.  Celery:  Blech.  What’s this in the bag here?   Oh my gosh.  The mother lode.  It was the bag of Kerri’s Kookies.  Pocket came running over and the door shut behind us but we didn’t care.   We enjoyed three cookies and Pocket reminded me not to over do it.  When our tummies were full we used the snake to open the door again and I put the Kookies back.  Pocket was now nervous.  This had taken a long time and she was afraid Mommy was going to be home but I wanted to take a look on the second shelf.  We got the door open, I peered up, and then I saw it, boneless chicken thighs.  I grabbed the package and pulled it to the floor while I heard a dog cry no.  I began to tear at the package while Pocket begged me to stop.  She said if we ate the chicken now Mommy would know we had defeated the refrigerator and not only would we cost ourselves another look inside but all our friends would never get in their refrigerators either.

It was one of the most difficult decisions of my life.   But I decided to return the chicken thighs to the refrigerator untouched.  We opened the door again.  I stood up with my paws on the shelf and Pocket ran up to me.  The door squished me a little but didn’t hurt.  Then we picked both picked up the package of chicken and replaced it.  I took one more look around the refrigerator, but there was only yogurt, cake, and other yucky human items.  We let the door shut.

We agreed to come back in a week.  If we took a little out at a time it might not be noticed.  Pocket also went back to the drawing board in her kitty condo to try and get to the top shelf, and, if at all possible, the dream of dreams, the freezer.

So now friends it is up to you.  I am afraid that smaller only dogs may be out of luck unless there is a helpful cat and trusting squirrel.  I do believe a big dog, if they move quickly, can both open the door and get to the food.  But don’t be greedy.  Take only a couple of items.  If the humans figure out we have cracked the refrigerator code they will go back to securing them again.

So be smart, and good luck my friends.

We are one step closer to ruling the world.

To Combat DogShaming Foley Presents Human Shaming

As many of you know some human bereft of a sense of humor began a Dog Shame site where they make us pose for pictures next to a photo of something we have done wrong.
Here is an example featuring our friend Lou ee
The quip is written by his Mom to make fun of the fact that Lou ee, like Brody, eats everything in site.  Well, humans, Pocket and I have armed our bird friends with camera and have taken pictures of what our pup parents have done.

Let’s start with my Mom”
I was not able to put those little signs next to our subjects so the best I can do is put my own text below the pictures: “Sometimes I doze off and let my breasts drive.”

Sophie’s, Angel Molly’s and Angel Daisy’s Mom:  “I tried out for the road of Woody in Toy Story the Musical and thought the script said ‘I have a snake in my booty.’”

Hobo Hudson’s Dad:  “I thought I had tapped an oil well but was shocked to discover it was a different type of bubbling crude.”


Chelsea’s and Ashton’s Mom:  “I only shower when thunderstorms come rolling through then remove clothes from the clothesline to cover up.”

Leo’s Dad:  “Before I take Leo for a walk I like to align my balls.”

Shiloh’s (from Washington) Mom “I will do anything for a Big Mac.”


Romey’s Parents:  “Even though we aren’t married yet we still get frisky.”

Brody’s Mom:  “Each morning I spend a half hour trying to put my head up my own ass.”

Hattie Mae’s parents:  “I hurt my wrist playing Twister on ice with my Elvis.”  

Rock’s Dad:  “I have all my furniture within six inches of each other so if I pass out on one I can land softly in the next.”

Lou ee’s Mom:  “I work out.”

Angel Sierra’s, Tiger’s and Nase’s Mom:  “I am riding my bike because I broke my horsie.”

Chappy’s. Whiskey’s and Blue’s Mom:  “I put myself through school shoving weenies in my mouth.”

Sandy’s, Nikii’s, Bear’s and Maggie’s Mom:  “I don’t respect society’s views of PDA.”

Tasha’s and Tiara’s Mom:  ‘To relax I put out a spread of bacon for my girls and let them go to town.”

Mrs Sophie Bub’s, Koda’s, Wills’ and Josie’s Mom:  “My butt killed Kenny.”

Pocket Goes on the Maury Pupvich Show to Find out Whose her Daddy

Like all pup siblings Pocket and I are sisters from another father.  I know who my pup parents are, two Yorkies who got it on behind a barn in upstate Massachusetts.  I was conceived in the exact same fashion that Elizabeth Warren was.  But Pocket was conceived in a house of confusion.

The human pup breeder where Pocket was found was taking care of her ill husband at the time of Pocket’s conception.  She had a doggie door to go outside and do her business.  The breeder Mom, busy with her husband, did not supervise the lollipop doing her business.  At one of these business sessions she did more business than just business.

Since that day the identity of Pocket’s Pa has been a mystery.  To help her I signed her up for the Maury Pupvich show, a special edition called “Who’s Your Daddy, Bitch.”  Pocket was reluctant to go on the show but I told her she would be thank me later.

This is what happened:  

Maury Pupvich:  Welcome to the Maury Pupvich show Special Who’s Your Daddy Bitch edition.  Let me bring out our guest Pocket Dog.  

*Pocket comes out and climbs into a chair next to the host.*  

Maury Pupvich:  Are you excited to find out who your Daddy is Pocket?

Pocket:  Not really.  My sister needs to write a blog and was out of ideas so she set the whole thing up.

Maury Pupvich:  Well we are just as excited as you are.  Now let’s bring out your birth Mom.

*An older female Yorkie with Pocket’s coloring comes out.  After several attempts she jumps into the chair.*

Maury Pupvich:  Pocket do you recognize your Mom?

Pocket:  Well not at first but when she jumped I got a good look at her teats and said “Momma.”

*Pocket and her Mom licked one another as the audience pawed and howled.*

Pocket’s Mother:  Pocket I have read so much about you and I am so proud of you.  Are you housebroken yet?

*Pocket blushed.*

Pocket:  Did you bring my father;?

Maury Pupvich:  That is why we are here Pocket.  We have four male pups who had relations with your Mom before she became impregnated with your litter.  Now who wants to meet the Dads?

*The audience howls*

Maury Pupvich:  We have taken DNA from the following four dogs and, at the end of the show, we will reveal which one of these dogs is Pocket’s Dad.  Now let’s bring out the first possible father.  He is a well known weed eater, a popular howler, and has been known to have a way with the ladies, it’s Snoop The Dog.”

*A Yorkie with dark fur and big ears came out slowly and jumped on the chair*

Maury Pupvich:  Snoop, do you recognize Pocket’s mother?

Snoop:  “Yo, you know, she’s a fine lady a all but you know I ain’t one much for leashes and collars, I just travel where the scent takes me, and I’m not so good at remembering faces.  You know I’m freaky but doing it face to face?  I’m not big on doing it human style.  But she’s got a nice rump end so I could see myself tapping that you know?

Maury Pupvich:  Were you wearing protection?

Snoop:  Well I think I had on Frontline but outside of that, I don’t wear no protection, no shock collar, no muzzle, I just like it natural you understand?

Maury Pupvich:  And if you are proven to be Pocket’s father are you willing to support her?

Snoop: Well you know, I might take her out to chew some grass, look up at the sky, but I’m not sharing no kibble here.

Maury Pupvich:  Pocket do you have anything to ask?

Pocket:  Would you take me to the park and play ball with me?

Snoop:  I might chew some weed while you did ya know, maybe hook up with some new booty.  You don’t have any weed do you?

Pocket:  No I don’t.

Snoop:  It’d be a lot cooler if you did.

Maury Pupvich:  Now let’s bring out our second potential Dad.  He was found on the Jersey Shore and is named The Suppository.  

The Suppository:  Hey, how you doing?

Maury Pupvich:  This is Pocket’s mother, do you recognize her?

The Suppository:  Hey, you know I get a lot of tail, what can I say?

Pocket’s Mom:  You hopped a fence and seduced me with a meatball and your garlicy breath.  I couldn’t resist.

The Suppository: Hey I don’t know nothing about that you know.  Maybe I was there maybe I wasn’t.  I don’t keep a record you know what I mean?  You know it’s about GTL for me:  Greenies, T Bones and Licking.

Maury Pupvich:  Are you willing to accept your fatherly duties if you are Pocket’s father?

The Suppository:  Fatherly duties?  Hey I don’t know, you know what my father’s duties was?  I bark something out of line he goes badabing upside my muzzle.  You know?  Forget about it.

Maury Pupvich:  Let’s bring out our third candidate.  He is a well known Yorkie Lothario, Don Juan DeYorkie.

*A very handsome Yorkie came out, bowing to the crowd, and hopped up on the couch.*

Maury Pupvich:  Don Juan, do you remember Pocket’s Mom?

Don Juan:  Oh of course I remember her.  I remember her squatting in the moonlight looking like Mona Lisa taking a whizz.  From that moment I knew there was amore between us.  I mounted and did the sexy time to her many, many times.

Maury Pupvich:  Pocket’s Mom do your remember Don Juan?

Pocket’s Mom:  Oh yes, yes I do, are we going to go to a commercial break soon?  Maybe Don Juan would meet me behind the couch.

Pocket:  Mom!  You’re embarrassing me!

Don Juan:  Oh Pocket amore is nothing to be ashamed of.  It is the most beautiful thing a dog can do.  That’s why the humans call it mounting.  They mount their possession on the wall.  I take a little hair from the tail to have a possession of what I mount.

Maury Pupvich:  Is it possible that you are Pocket’s Dad?

Don Juan:  Oh of course, I have fathered a Disney movie worth of babies, all so beautiful it’s like have a Picasso come out of your vagina.

Maury Pupvich:  Pocket, out of these three dogs which one would you want to be your Daddy?

Pocket:  I don’t need any of these dogs.  I have a Daddy.  He’s home and he plays ball with me and let’s me lick his face.

Maury Pupvich:  That’s great, I was rooting for Don Juan too.  But you have not met the final dog, Whit Trash.

*A Yorkie staggered out, needing a grooming, and smelling poorly.*

Don Juan:  I do say, someone should open a window.

*Whit didn’t try to jump up on the couch, he lay on his side on the floor*

Maury Pupvich:  Whit, do you recognize Pocket’s Mom?

*He looked up lazily.*

Whit:  I ain’t never seen her before, I wasn’t there that night, I was at the pool hall, I’ve been fixed.

Maury Popvich:  Pocket’s Mom do you recognize Whit?

Pocket’s Mom:  Yes I do.

Maury Popvich:  And did you have relations with him?

Pocket’s Mom:  Well, one night I got loose, and he was in the woods behind our house with some smooch hooch and I guess I had a couple.  I don’t really remember what happened but yes we had relations.

Pocket:  Oh Mom, gross!

Pocket’s Mom:  Don’t judge me girl.  You don’t know what it’s like walking around with hot ovaries.

Whit Trash:  *Belch*  That wasn’t me.  I haven’t made no babies.  I was working in the junkyard that night.  The kid don’t even look like me.

Maury Pupvich:  Pocket how would you feel if Whit was your Dad?

Pocket:  I would start playing ball in the street.

Maury Pupvich:  Well, I don’t want to keep you waiting I do have the results of the DNA tests, and I can tell you that Whit, you are not the father.

Whit:  Thank Dog!

Maury Pupvich:  And Don Juan you are not the father.

Don Juan:  Oh so sad, I am a magnificent breed.

Maury Pupvich:  And The Suppository you are not the father.

The Suppository:  Yo, I told you, no way.

Maury Pupvich:  And Snoop *long pause* you are not Pocket’s father either.

*The crowd howls.*

Maury Pupvich:  And Pocket’s Mom, you’re a hound ho.  But don’t worry Pocket, we will still be looking for your Dad.

Pocket:  I don’t want to look for my Dad anymore.  I have a Dad, he’s round, he’s slow, and he’s lazy but he loves me, plays ball with me, walks me and snuggles with me.  I don’t need to know who donated the spam to my Mom to make a litter.  I know who Daddy is through love.

Maury Pupvich:  That’s beautiful Pocket but it makes a sucky show.  Now, before we go, I would like to give Don Juan, Snoop, The Suppository, and Whit their gift for being on our show, it’s Bob Barker in a mobile neutering truck.

*All four male dogs begin barking and running, trying to escape but they are all wrangled and taken to the truck.*

Dog Days of August? You Can Have Them Back

I read recently that it is officially the dog days of August.  If this is true then who the hell gave them to us?  Because let me tell you we don’t want them.  Gosh, you decide to give us one month and it has to be August.

This must have been done by old white men.  The same old white men who gave black people February because it’s cold and short.  Old white men are always giving away months they don’t want anything to do with.  And August is nothing more than summer’s February.

July is the seventh month of the year, or the first month of the second half of the year, the hot half, as hot as January is cold. The same is true of August, as hot as February is cold, but both months are a little worse because they are the months when we just can’t take the weather anymore.  And that’s why the old men have stuck us with it, because they don’t want it.  But why did it have to be dogs?  How about the cat days of August?
August is hot and some of them have fiery fur like the sun.  Or the lizard days of August because lizards live in the desert in the heat.  But it certainly doesn’t belong to dogs.

How about the dogs days of May?  Everybody likes May.  May is bright, and warm, and shiny, just like us dogs.

Or we would take September.  Cool, but still warm enough to enjoy, sunny but not blindingly sunny.  September has a nice and even temperament like a good dog.

And why don’t other animals have months?  I think the reindeer days of December makes a lot of sense.  

We can give January to the penguins because they are little and cute like the New Year, and they like playing in the cold  We will reserve February for the polar bears.  March is still cold and rainy a real pain in the butt so we will assign that to the squirrels.  So I hope you enjoy your squirrel days of March.

April can be a pain too, but it’s also when spring starts, so let’s give it to the bunnies.  The Bunny Days of April cover the good sunny warm days and the rainy cold days like how a bunny is cute but is also a pain because it eats your garden.
I have decided on the Dog Days of May.    I could be convinced of June and September but I came up with the idea so May it is.  Now June is a pleasant month, and many of our dogs are close to their kitty friends so, even though it goes against my nature, I declare June the Pussy Days of June.

That brings us to hot, sticky, long July.  Let’s give that one to a snake.  The Boa Constrictor Days of July.  The month that not only crushes you, but then eats you whole.

Now that we no longer have the dog days of August we have to stick this horrible month with something equally horrid but smart enough to keep cool.  Of course, it is so simple!  Why do a week when you can do the whole month?  It’s the Shark Days of August.

September the days are shorter, kids are back in school reading Charlotte’s Web, they are playing football again, it can only be the Pig Days of September.  October is colder, wetter, darker, the leaves fall from the trees, the dead walk the Earth, sounds like a nice time for a horse ride, like that Ichabod Crane guy, so we have the Horse Days of October.

And that leaves November, which of course, we leave for the turkeys.  So animals have their own month from the Penguin in January to the Dogs in May to the Pigs in September to the Reindeers in December.

It’s about time we animals started taking the decisions out of the hands of the old men and make them ourselves.  And even the mean old men must admit ours make much more sense.  So no more talk of the Dog Days of August.  What you’re suffering from is the Shark Days of August.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water.