While I was away in
“How many bowls of Cap’n Crunch did you eat after dinner tonight?”
And that’s when I knew it was serious.
After some hemming and hawing, she finally let it out. She didn’t want me to get all worked up, but after coming home from a night on the town, she discovered that Puppy had peed on the living room rug.
Peed. On the rug. And in case you’re wondering, no the rug isn’t made out of grass with a faux fire hydrant off in one corner. (Not for my lack of trying, but Brooke didn’t think the motif skewed “adult human” enough.)
I know this may not seem like a big deal for a dog. Dogs pee on all sorts of things. I used to know a dog who got so excited when people came over to the house that it would jump up and pee on them. But it’s different with Puppy. He is the epitome of a chill dog. The last time he got really, really excited, he had to stop halfway through his jumping and panting celebration to get a drink of water and lay down. And if he ever really, really has to go to the bathroom and Brooke and I aren’t around, or around and asleep, or around and really into an episode of “Friday Night Lights”, then he’ll just go into the bathroom and pee on the bathmat. Which is fine with me, because hey, close enough right? I half expect him to come trotting out with a newspaper under his arm like, “I’ll clean that up later.”
But to pee on the rug? The nice, expensive, living room rug? The one I take credit for picking out when guests compliment it even though I inevitably come off as foppish? I was baffled. My first questions was, “Why is Puppy such a dick? I don’t pee on his shit,” to which Brooke responded, “That’s nice of you, but he’s a dog.” Whatever.
Sadly, even after I returned home from
While Brooke and I were obviously concerned (if we wanted pee on everything we’d do it ourselves, thank you), we both assumed that it was just his mean-spirited way of getting back at us for leaving him home alone so much. When we first got to
After some research on the internet, though, Brooke and I discovered that dogs don’t operate like that. (Which is weird, because I could swear that every time I pick up another mound of Puppy’s shit he gets a smirk on his face like he’s recalling how I kicked him off the bed the night before.) Apparently, if a dog has no history of peeing on things and suddenly turns into a doggy Super Soaker, it usually indicates feelings of insecurity. Basically, Puppy pees on things because he thinks he’s fat, or because he’s not equipped to cope with the pressures of everyday life. If Puppy was a teenager, he would be cutting his stomach and drawing pentagrams on the back of his paw.
Immediately, Brooke and I were terrified. Our dog? Insecure? How could that be considering no fifteen waking minutes can go by without one of us addressing him like a high maintenance prima donna supermodel. “Oh Puppy, you’re looking very cute. How handsome your face looks today! If you were a cupcake I would eat you, then throw you up and eat you again!” I mean, it just doesn’t make sense.
We’ve resorted to rolling up the rug whenever we leave the house and when we go to bed at night. Plus, we try to give Puppy more positive reinforcement, especially when he pees outside. (Actual scene from yesterday: Me standing above Puppy while he pees on a fence saying, “Good boy! That’s a good boy!” while an attractive woman approaching us walks a wide circle around us.) And for the foreseeable future, I guess that’s how it’ll have to be. And Brooke and I will be left to decipher the puzzle of how the heck our beloved Puppy developed security issues. I wish we knew…