You can’t keep a good schipperke down.
I have a plan on how to make money to purchase things from the concession. I’m going to make a bet that I can eat more kibbles than any other dog. It’s a win/win for me. I get to eat all the kibbles I want and I get money from the other dogs.
I’m not sure if all the dogs are getting credits contributed to their accounts because some of them are eating the cheap dog food that is slopped out twice a day. Unlike me, who is getting the expensive specialized food that I had before. If anything, this gives me hope that my parents are still trying to get me out.
Maybe I’m being held for ransom. It could be that it’s not a fine or making bail that is holding them back. It could be that the prison is actually holding me ransom for the most amount of money they can get from me.
I might need to create a Bob Bailout Fund. Hook it into all the social networking sites. Do a news media blasts. Get the word out that I’m being held captive. Come to think about it, I’m not sure what law I broke?
The last I remember was that I was minding my own business in the back of the car when we drove up to the business. My mom spoke to the owners and the next thing I know I was walked into the prison.
At first I thought it was a dog retreat where I was going to get a facial and massage. Once through the double gates I released this wasn’t a retreat but a prison. Before I could warn my mom it was a trap the door was shut behind me and I was whisked through the double gates. I tried to make a break for it but it was too late. Trapped behind the fence separated from those that love and adore me.
Until I can setup the Bob Bailout Fund raiser, I’ll need to raise money anyway possible. Making the bet that I can eat 10 kibbles might be a good start. I got the idea from Cool Hand Luke who eat 50 hard boiled eggs. I’m not against eating hard boiled eggs but I’m not allowed into the kitchen nor have I seen a chicken in a long time.
The last time I saw a chicken was in Watsonville, California along one of the roads running next to a farm. There they were a whole flock of chickens. I didn’t make eye contact because they may have saw it as a challenge and I didn’t want to get hen pecked.
What is a group of chicken called a flock? A bunch of Raven’s is called a murder. Maybe they are called a bunch of chickens. Personally, I don’t like chickens. Speaking of that. I was reading the side of a cat food package. It said, “all the things your cat naturally loves, beef, chicken and fish.”
The things your cat naturally loves? I haven’t seen a cat take down a cow, capture a chicken or catch a fish. How is that something they naturally like? I’ve seen cats catch mice, rats, brown birds and butterflies. Why don’t they make cat food out of that. Things cats naturally catch not what they naturally like? I personally never seen a cat tearing across a field and kill a bull. I’d love to see a house cat do that. Like that would happen in my life time.
WOW, I really have too much time on my hands in prison to reflect upon the marketing of cat food. Really? When was the last time one ever say a cat in a car or shopping? You see dogs all the time in the store with their parents shopping. A cat? Like a cat would ever go out with their parents.
I did see a cat being walked down the road once. Neither the cat nor the owner were doing a good job at it. The cat was wrapping itself around every pole it walked next to. Come on! Cats are suppose to be smarter than dogs? Really? At least a dog can walk on a leash.
I’ll admit it too a while to teach the human how to walk on a leash but at least they learned. The only reason us dogs walk on a leash is so that the people know were to go. If left on their own they’d be lost in a few minutes. A cat can’t even teach their owner how to walk on a leash.
If you haven’t guessed, I’m not really that much of a cat person. I’ve had experience with cats and they are okay. I have respect for them but cats are, well how to put it…. A bit weird. The pee and poop in a box. Walk and sleep on top of anything they want. They don’t listen or respect the wishes of their owners.
At least dogs respect and listen to the parents. I hear what my parents tell me. I then decide if I want to do it or not. Most of the time out of respect for them I do what they tell me. Most of the time they are telling me things that are for my betterment. Like come here, cuff up, hop you.
If you didn’t know what cuff up means it is the term used for when I have to put the leash on so we don’t get separated from each other. If I didn’t put a leash on my dad would wander off. How am I going to explain to my mom that dad wandered off because I didn’t put the leash. Next thing I know we’d be in the car driving around looking for him. I can’t tell you how many times he’s opened the front door and wandered off.
Hopefully the note got to my parents so I can get out of here in a few days. My ideas of escape are falling short. I doubt it has anything to do with my height. Speaking of heigth, cats can climb. I wonder if I can climb over the fence. I don’t have to worry about guard dogs or dogs barking because everyone is a dog and barking in this place. Hmm, I think I may have an idea on how to get out of here. I think that is my plan. When I get out to the outdoor yard. I’ll make a run for the fence and climb to freedom. I might have to dog a few sprays from the water bottle. A few squirt with water is nothing compared to my freedom.
I will be a dog on the run. Moving from city to city. Picking up odd jobs to make ends meet. I might even have to change my name to throw their scent off of me. Tomorrow is a new day and I’ll be a free dog if my plan works out.
My hopes for jumping over the fence on a motorcycle have been dashed since I couldn’t fine on in the general population or outside yards. I think the next course of action is pouting, it works with my parents. If I sit in the corner with my back to everyone, sooner or later I’ll get my way.
I’m pondering if I should handle this like Cool Hand Luke. Maybe make the best of the situation. Get some bets going. Start wheeling and dealing for kibbles and toys. I know I’m smarter than most of these other inmates. The yokie is still kissing up to the guards. Speaking about the guards.
There is always one to three guards in the yard all the time. I mean they have this place locked down. I’m wondering if this is a state prison or a for profit prison? The food here isn’t bad. It is the exact stuff I eat at home. What’s the chances of that happening at a state prison. Furthermore, I have my own crate and bedding.
Maybe my parents are putting some funds into my concession fund so I can get some creature comforts from home. I know they have to know where I’m at. Hopefully that kite I sent out a few days ago gets to them soon. I wonder if the guards have noticed that I’ve been making a mark on the wall to keep the days I’ve been in here recorded.
I had my opertunity to try for the keys or cellphone but the yorkie had its eyes on me. I’m going to have to distract that dog so I can escape. The stories I will have for my buddies on Facebook, Twitter and dog park. They will not believe what I’ve had to endure during my days of incarseration.
I’ve been bouncing a ball against the cell door killing time like Steve McQueen in the movie “The Great Escape”. Bouncing the ball serves two purposes, the first it annoys the hell out of the guards and secondly it gives the other inmates hope that we’ll get out of here.
I noticed when I was released to the yard that the dog that ate my kite last night was released this morning. At first I thought he was an idiot and eat my kite just being a dumb dog, but now I know his brilliance. The only way to get the kite out of prison was to sneak it out. Now all the dog has to do is wait till it passes out of him naturally. I hope he’ll be able to get the note to my parents. It may take a day or two for the kite to pass then another day or so to get it to my parents. I’m hoping I’ll be out by Sunday latest.
Just in case I’ll need to keep planning an alternative way out. At the moment I have three plans. The first is make an escape myself. Second, is that the kite gets to my parents. Finally, getting a cellphone so I can call, text or email for help.
I was able to get a soda bottle today. Now all I need is to get some matches and something to burn so I can make a shank. One never knows when they’ll need to protect themselves. I personally, don’t think the days incarcerated have hardened me any, but I’m still preparing my mind and body for the long haul.
I’m not scared or frightened only concerned for my loved ones and what they are thinking. They must be full of fright worrying about me. If the kite gets to them they’ll know I’m doing well and my plans for escape.
I’ve started my plan on getting close enough to the guards to pickpocket their cell phone so I can get a message outside this place. When the guard sits down, I go up to them with my ears back, reaching out with my paws adoringly so they’d want to pet and hold me. My ploy has worked but haven’t been able to find their cellphone yet. What if this is a high security prison where they leave their cellphone locked up in a lock box. What have I done to be in such a high security prison? I know Schipperke’s are know for being stubborn and intelligent but really high security?
There was an attempted escape by two of my fellow prisoners today, but they were captured at the second gate. If they only had opposing thumbs they could have let themselves out. The guard scooped them up and placed them back into general population. I was attempting to make my own attempt for freedom, but I too was trapped. Okay, okay so I only made it to the first gate to encourage the others to continue on. Storming the main gate is probably not an option anymore. Maybe the outside exercise area is the place to scale the walls and get out but I have heard they have water guns with vinegar in them!
I noticed that general population and outside yards are all double gated with high fences. Tunneling out isn’t an option because of the concert floors. Maybe I can find a motorcycle and jump over the fence like in the Great Escape. Where can I find a motorcycle in here? There is only one problem with that plan. I don’t know how to drive. What good is this dog license if I don’t know how to drive?
I’ve noticed security cameras. My parents are pretty good with technology. I’ve seen my dad put in a light bulb and my mom change the television with the four remotes. If they can do that, they can easily figure out how to gain access to the security surveillance system. Maybe I can do sign language to get a message out to them that way. I wonder if either of them are fluent in American Dog Sign Language otherwise known as ADSL.
Oh My God! I just realized that prisoners get weekly showers! How long have I been in here? I really need to get out of here before the weekly shower. I get a monthly bath if I need it or not and that’s bad enough, but weekly?! What type of hell place is this? Okay, okay, don’t panic. I’m making “much ado about nothing.” My life is slowly becoming a Shakespeare tragedy. I better put my iPad away before the guards find my contraband and confiscate it.
Day 1 and 2 of Oregon State Prison for Dogs
I’ve been watching the guards and other inmates for the last few days, memorizing their patterns planning my escape. I know my mom is on the other side of the gate trying to figure out a way to break me out, or at least make bail.
The guards have a pretty scheduled routine. Lights on at 7am, then breakfast. Next, they let us out in the general population area. This is where I get to watch them come and go out of the gate. I also get to observe my fellow inmates.
There is a Yorkie which I think is a snitch. He is always sitting in the guards lap, or right next to them. You know what they say “snitches get stitches”. Okay, so I heard the term on “Lock Up Raw” and “Jail” television shows. Don’t laugh those shows prepared me for being locked up.
There is always a guard on duty except for at night, but breaking out at night would be extremely difficult. They put us in isolated segregation (seg) for those hardened criminals. I really don’t mind being in “seg” at night because I’m concerned that a pack of dogs might want to “jump me” into their gang. I really don’t want to be part of a gang.
Could you just imagine what an their gang tattoo would be. Probably something stupid like a paw print next to the eye to show time severed. Worst yet a dog bone to symbol their gang.
I know my parents are trying to raise the funds to bail me out. I just need to stay tough, keep my mind sharp and body strong. I started doing “burpies” and sit ups when I’m in my cell alone. I don’t want the other prisoners to know just how in shape I really am.
During the day they just see me standing next to the gate watching and observing. I’m actually watching how the guards enter and exit the yard. If I can only get the other dogs to create a distraction. Maybe a fake fight might do it when the guards change shifts. I could then slip past the gate.
That damn Yorkie I have to worry about. It might snitch me out when I’m trying to escape or tell my plans to the guards. I figure he’d squeal for a pat on the head, or maybe a treat. Just like a Yorkie sell out the fellow inmates for a treat.
But prison isn’t too bad. I get 3 square meals a day. Plenty of yard time. I get to sleep in my own bed. My own cell, but it isn’t freedom and it isn’t the open road. I can’t wait to feel the sun on my face, wind in my fur, and the grass under my paws.
I tried to send a “kite” out to my parents but the dumb dog next to me ate it not knowing it was a “kite” (note). I like paper as much as the next dog ,but come on now. I might be able to snag the cell phone from the guard when they are talking to the Yorkie. I could then text, email or call for help.
Hopefully the guards don’t notice that I’ve hidden my iPad under my blankets in my crate. That is the only way I can a record my time incarcerated. A guard is doing a cell check so I better sign off.
I was minding my own business doing what a Bob does best in dog park when all of a sudden I hear there is a gator was among us. I wondered to myself if the gator wandered up from the creek nearby but then I realized to my terror that someone actually brought a gator to the dog park. I ask you, WHO brings a gator to dog park?!
I’ve watched ‘Duck Dynasty’ on TV and have seen alligators on the show. Let’s not go into why I watch ‘Duck Dynasty’, its just one of the shows I watch. I also watch ‘The First 48′, ‘Storage Wars’ and ‘A Haunting’, but that has nothing to do with a gator among us.
Looking over to my mom, I wonder to myself “should I warn her and throw myself into the middle to her defense?” Knowing that she is smarter than me I decide just to run for the hills which is hard in a dog park with a fence all the way around it. Instead I run for the wood chip mound. I hear gators can’t climb. Maybe that’s trees, but at least I’m on higher ground.
I hear the people talking, “Isn’t gator cute?” Cute?! A gator cute? What is wrong with you people? Gators are what you want to avoid. Why don’t you think I like baths. I swear a gator is going to climb up through the drain pipe and get me while I’m in the bath tub.
To my horror, my mom walks right over to where the gator is to take pictures. REALLY MOM! What’s wrong with you?! I know your adventurist and brave but really?! Now I’m forced to protect my mom, especially since all my buddies are there. I run to her side, a little back, of course, to observe and protect, if necessary.
“Isn’t Gator cute” one of the parents says. I look around, but I don’t see a gator like on ‘Duck Dynasty’, all I see is dogs playing. What are you talking about people?!
My mom looks down at me and says “Gator is the new puppy, right there. The little black and white one.”
That’s Gator? It’s a puppy! Gator doesn’t look all that tough to me. Hell, I can even take Gator down if I was so inclined, but I’m a lover not a fighter. Why didn’t someone preface “There’s a gator.” with “there’s a new puppy called gator”, it would have made my life so much easier.
Gator seems okay to me. He seemed to get along with the other dogs. They say gators are vicious, but this gator seemed pretty mellow and happy to play with everyone. I think they give gators a bad name on TV. I don’t know why everyone is running away from them and afraid. Personally I like Gator. I hope to see more of him at the park. He’ll make things a bit more interesting.
My mom tried to explain to me that the puppy Gator is different than the gators I see on TV, but that doesn’t make sense. A gator is a gator in my book. She tried to explain that the an alligator is different than a gator, but I just stared at her. She shrugged her shoulders and said “Forget it. Go play with Gator.” I don’t get all these fancy words people use, but luckily for me I have a new friend at dog park named Gator.