once upon a time in my life, urine was not even a subject of consideration. now my life seems semi-obsessed with it. not only do i spend much of my days wondering if Grannie needs to go to the bathroom or if she's gone and i need to change her undergarment -- i'm now on Puddle Patrol.
we have two little dogs, Coco & Rico. Rico has always been the special child. he's high-strung, skittish, timid and yet overly aggressive if he feels threatened. fine, fine. but lately, he insists on peeing in the house. perhaps it's the weather (he's scared of storms and the wind) or perhaps its a bladder problem (trip to the vet: on the list.), but whatever the case, it's a problem.
AND he's a freaking ninja. just this morning Russ took both dogs out and, dutifully, Coco immediately handled her business. Rico instead ate some grass. Russ came in the bedroom and updated me -- so far, no "accidents" -- while Coco tried her best to cojoin herself to me. then Rico ran in and tried to lick off my nose.
as we headed to the kitchen i discovered that, during our brief two-minute interval, Rico had peed on the leg of the dining room table. i had noticed he was late to join us. the tip off should've been him yelling "be right with you" from the other room.
to make matters worse, now Coco is going in the house. i mean, i guess i see her side of things. when i caught her the other day she looked at me like, "what? so i have to hold it and go outside in the rain and he can just piss in the floor anytime he feels like it??" at which point i just shrugged and went to get the paper towels.
in other news, i ran the other day. if you know me, you understand how this would be newsworthy. i have often said, "if you see me run past you, you should drop whatever you're doing and try to outrun me. trust me, either you don't want to face whatever is after me or you damn well want to beat me to whatever i'm running towards."
truth is, i wondered if i still could. even as a child i thought adults looked funny running. now i understand. when you're five foot ten and 250 plus pounds, once you start to run you start to wonder how you're going to stop.
i decided i would attempt a short sprint. the first issue was when and where could i do this. i approached it much as i would streaking -- short distance, quickly back inside, and with as few spectators as possible. i settled on mid-afternoon. (one thing about summer in the South is in the afternoons outside is more desolate than the middle of the night.)
so i sauntered casually down to the mailbox, checked left and right to make sure there was no one around, and took off running down the street. i must have run 20 feet! i stopped to consider the experience.
as you can probably imagine, the first thing i did was to collapse in the front yard. i lay there, attempting to recapture the years of my life i had just lost, breathing hard, and listening as my rational brain tried to explain to my angry heart and lungs why i felt the need to do this.
let's just say this, if fight or flight are my only options, i better whup ass like a mother fucker.
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| The rare photo of Rico (distracted i believe by the promise of cheese) |
we have two little dogs, Coco & Rico. Rico has always been the special child. he's high-strung, skittish, timid and yet overly aggressive if he feels threatened. fine, fine. but lately, he insists on peeing in the house. perhaps it's the weather (he's scared of storms and the wind) or perhaps its a bladder problem (trip to the vet: on the list.), but whatever the case, it's a problem.
AND he's a freaking ninja. just this morning Russ took both dogs out and, dutifully, Coco immediately handled her business. Rico instead ate some grass. Russ came in the bedroom and updated me -- so far, no "accidents" -- while Coco tried her best to cojoin herself to me. then Rico ran in and tried to lick off my nose.
as we headed to the kitchen i discovered that, during our brief two-minute interval, Rico had peed on the leg of the dining room table. i had noticed he was late to join us. the tip off should've been him yelling "be right with you" from the other room.
to make matters worse, now Coco is going in the house. i mean, i guess i see her side of things. when i caught her the other day she looked at me like, "what? so i have to hold it and go outside in the rain and he can just piss in the floor anytime he feels like it??" at which point i just shrugged and went to get the paper towels.
in other news, i ran the other day. if you know me, you understand how this would be newsworthy. i have often said, "if you see me run past you, you should drop whatever you're doing and try to outrun me. trust me, either you don't want to face whatever is after me or you damn well want to beat me to whatever i'm running towards."
truth is, i wondered if i still could. even as a child i thought adults looked funny running. now i understand. when you're five foot ten and 250 plus pounds, once you start to run you start to wonder how you're going to stop.
i decided i would attempt a short sprint. the first issue was when and where could i do this. i approached it much as i would streaking -- short distance, quickly back inside, and with as few spectators as possible. i settled on mid-afternoon. (one thing about summer in the South is in the afternoons outside is more desolate than the middle of the night.)
so i sauntered casually down to the mailbox, checked left and right to make sure there was no one around, and took off running down the street. i must have run 20 feet! i stopped to consider the experience.
as you can probably imagine, the first thing i did was to collapse in the front yard. i lay there, attempting to recapture the years of my life i had just lost, breathing hard, and listening as my rational brain tried to explain to my angry heart and lungs why i felt the need to do this.
let's just say this, if fight or flight are my only options, i better whup ass like a mother fucker.
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