After some thought, I have decided that there's no need to delete this blog and start fresh- at least not in the near future. I see some changes on the horizon that may warrant a new blog but for now my life, while borderline disgustingly happy on the relationship front (at least to outsiders- I'm perfectly fine with disgustingly happy, as long as we don't ever get to the "You hang up!" "No, YOU hang up!" "I'm not hanging up till YOU hang up!" stage), still has plenty of lemony stories just waiting to be told.
For example, Joe Boxer has decided to make my oh-so-comfy La-Z-Boy recliner his own personal piss pad. The first time it happened, a few weeks ago, he did it WHILE STILL LAYING IN THE RECLINER. The little asshole was too lazy to get up and properly pee on something, or, God forbid, walk seven steps to my room to alert me that he needed to go outside.
In his defense, he was on Prednisone at the time due to his allergies spiraling out of control. A side effect of Prednisone is a constant need to urinate. This medication didn't just make Joe have to pee frequently, it made him pee for what seemed like minutes on end. At one point while out in the yard relieving himself, I saw him look back at his own doggy penis as if he were thinking, "Shouldn't it have stopped by now??" He then switched legs, putting his right hind leg on the ground and his left hind leg in the air. It was insane, the amounts of pee.
Anyway. So he was urinating frequently. No big deal. He even peed on the way to the sliding door once- I was willing to overlook that as it was on my hardwood floor (easy clean-up) and I knew he was making a genuine attempt to go outside before tinkling everywhere.
The Pissy Recliner is a whole different matter.
As I mentioned, he didn't even get up, he just remained in a comfortable position on the recliner and let the urine flow. Again, I turned the other cheek and cleaned the mess- poor baby was having an allergic reaction and was on medication.
Then he did it again while I was at work, except this time he had been off the medication for a few days. I was highly pissed (haha, get it?) and even yelled at him a little for his misbehavior (he went and laid under the dining room table and made me feel bad, so of course I had to go apologize and pet him and give him lots of treats).
It happened again last Thursday. LAST. STRAW. I thought my head was going to explode. So did Joe.
I may have to get rid of my super soft, ultra comfy recliner. I do not know if it will come clean and even if it does, my dog, who I am currently referring to as "Joe Pisshead," may very well soil it again- which would likely result in me screaming at Joe Pisshead, Joe Pisshead retreating to safety beneath the dining room table and me drinking a beer and feeling really, really bad for making Joe Pisshead feel sad enough to hide and therefore crawling under the table with him and apologizing profusely.
Twice now I have almost flopped down in The Pissy Recliner without thinking. I miss being able to sit in my living room and read a book (I don't like my couch). I am not looking forward to the day Dave sits in it without thinking- Joe Pisshead and I both will probably need to hide under the dining room table.
The Pissy Recliner doesn't bother Joe Pisshead- he is still using it for his afternoon naps despite my attempts to deter him from doing so. This morning I flipped The Pissy Recliner upside down so he couldn't lay in it and/or pee on the seat, although I am sure he will just pee on the side of it instead- my punishment for moving it so he couldn't lay on it.
Note: Please refrain from comments involving seeking advice from Cesar Milan- I shunned him and his methods a long time ago. There is no reason why my dog and I can't share the same fork or co-sleep. None. You won't convince me, so I am saving you the trouble.
Note #2: No, Joe Pisshead does not have a urinary tract infection. He's just being an asshole.
