The Jack Formerly Known as "Puppy" Is Oft-Maligned

Poor Jack. My little dog can't seem to catch a break. Only last week, he was highly-regarded by Hick as an empathetic rescue dog, one step below a St. Bernard bearing a cask of rum, when he clambered up on the belly of fallen Hick to see if he was okay. Or had bacon grease on his lips.

Friday, Jack was again canine non grata.

Remember back when Hick accused then-Puppy Jack of climbing up on the trunk of his 1980 Olds Toronado and taking a poop? As IF that squatty stocky heeler-dachshund with his extra-long spine could get up onto a car trunk! And remember when Jack ate the bacon sandwich Hick provided for him in a paper-plate place-setting on the seat of the Gator and left it unattended? Well, Hick is back in his accusatory mode.

Let the record show that we've been having trouble with the garage pooper again. In the past, all the way back to 2014, we've had a mystery pooper that gets in the garage, probably through the pet door. It's a small door with a swinging piece of plastic, set low to the ground, for the cats. I even had documented proof of previous poopings from my supersecret blog. From January 2014, and February 2014, and September 2017, when the pooper branched out to the side porch.

Now the mystery pooper has left several puddles of pee along the wall on T-Hoe's driver's side, and keeps pooping under the shotgun seat. Hick has cleaned out the garage of fallen mud that drips from T-Hoe's flanks in messy weather. Swept it out so clean you could eat off it. Though I wouldn't want to, because something has been peeing and pooping there.

Here's the garage and T-Hoe, the side of the crime against garage-ity.

Right under there is where the mystery pooper has been doing his business. Hick has shoveled it out and swept it clean. I think that's a stain there, because there was no new poop when I took the picture.

There's the frozen pee-puddle that appeared Friday morning, and some dead leaves that blew in when I opened the garage door.

I was in town Friday when my phone announced a text from Hick.

"Val I clean two big piles of looks like dog poop I'm not sure Jack's not the one getting in there and go and getting under your car but I cleaned it up"

That's quite detailed and lengthy for Hick. But even with his Hicklish language, I knew what he meant. He was ACCUSING JACK OF BEING THE GARAGE POOPER!

"It is not Jack. He can't get in. It's a possum. When I open the people door Jack goes in and looks for the cat. He does not go under the car. He goes to the cat food bucket and that house. You blamed him for pooping on your Toronado when he couldn't even get up there. Next time he should let you lay there when you fall! And not eat the bacon sandwich you share with him on the Gator."

"It just looks like dog poop that's all I'm saying but I don't know but he can fit through the door."

"I don't think so. Lock that door. Or set up your $100 game camera you used once at the BARn."

"Yeah. I may set the camera up to see what is getting in there"

"Focus it on that door. Or under my car. Did you see the pee by the driver's door? Jack would pee ON something. Not just a puddle on the open floor."

Hick forgets that we were having a pooping problem before we even got PUPPY JACK! I will be sure to point that out when he starts maligning my little buddy again. Meanwhile, he got the game camera, that was hanging on a tree up at HOS's place when he was looking for deer, and put it in the garage.

Last night, Hick left for the auction at 6:00. I was making a batch of Chex Mix, and I needed more containers to put it in. I'd left some in the back of T-Hoe, so I went out to the garage to get them. I forgot all about that game camera until I got back in the house.

I hope Hick doesn't accuse ME of being the mystery pooper when he sees me on the game camera.

I would take the fall, though, to protect this little guy.