I just have to share what I think is my favorite Patrick story of all time.
When we lived in Shreveport there was a kennel way out in the woods near the Louisiana/Texas border we would board the dogs at when we went out of town. The owners were crazy dog people and they had nice, clean inside/outside runs and the dogs enjoyed it, so it was worth the nearly one hour drive each way to bring them there. Patrick was also fascinated by a mule on the grounds, but that is another matter entirely.
So one day I was bringing them up there to drop them off. When I tell you this place was in the sticks, I mean, it was deep off the beaten path. I needed gasoline, and there was one mom and pop country store out there that had a gas pump, so I stopped there to get some gas. I think this was in the summer, and if you have ever owned a pug, you know they get overheated easily, so I parked at the pump and left the engine running so the air conditioner would never quit. I got out and began to squeeze some gas into the car. Now understand, whenever the dogs were in a parked car they thought they were at their destination, so they would hop up, look out the windows and carry on. This time was no different, and as I am fueling I hear the audible 'vrr-click!" of the cars power door locks having just been engaged. To my horror, Patrick was standing on the arm rest looking out the window and hit the lock button. Uh-oh!
The situation was this;I was locked out of my running car at a mom and pop country store at least 15 miles north of Interstate 20 and at least 20 miles from any locksmith, I have no key, trucks are pulling in behind me to get gas (and of course I can't move). Basically, THAT PUG HAD HIJACKED MY VEHICLE and was trying to see how much patience the locals had for a city boy and his two little dogs monopolizing their gas pump.
Clearly, this was bad. I didn't have a cell phone, so I went inside and explained the situation which seemed to confirm the preconceived notions the clerk had regarding people who grew up where there were sidewalks. I called pop-a-lock, whose ad was in the store's yellow pages. The guy very reluctantly agreed to come on up, but explained it may be as long as an hour.
So I bought a copy of the local newspaper and sat on the store's front porch on a rocking chair and watched the routine of cars pulling in behind me to wait for gas, only to be met by the stares of the very well cooled pug and dachshund but no drivers. Eventually the cars would give up and go to the other side. I sat on that porch close enough to make sure nobody attacked my car, but just far enough away to not make it obvious it belonged to me.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the orange pop a lock Festiva pulled in to the parking lot. Hooray! I met the guy before he even got out of his vehicle. I wanted out of that place, quickly. He said it was $40 to unlock and an extra $20 for the excessive mileage...blah, blah-he could have asked for one of my fingers, and I would have gladly given it up to extract myself from the situation.
I pointed out the vehicle he needed to unlock, and he grabbed his trusty flatbar thing confidently. We walked over toward the car, and when the dogs saw us, they began to go nuts as dogs do. When we got about 5 yards away, Patrick needed to get a better view and thus he placed his paws on the drivers armrest. As mr popalock guy was getting ready to insert the tool, there was an audible 'wrrrrrrrr' as the pug rolled the power window down, all the way open. He sat and looked at me and pop-a-lock, wondering what was taking so long. Popalock looked at me and said "just give me $20 for gas and time", which I gladly did. I then reached in to the open window and popped the power locks open.
I quickly made my way out of that little gas island and boogied on home. It was one of those situations where you have the right to be so mad, but it was so obviously hysterical there was no need for it. Rather, it led to an unforgettable adventure with the pug!