Another Day, Another Accident

Mom says she loves my face.

Mom thought it was so cute when she started to play the big box (piano,) I would cock my head from side to side wondering where the sound came from. Not sure I trust that thing.

Five minutes later I peed on the hardwood floor.

She sent me outside, soaked it up with a towel, threw all the other “doggie rags” in the washing machine and came outside to find me. I was chewing on a piece of poop at the time. She didn't like that.

I'm still not sure I trust Mom, she let's me lick her face, but the next thing you know, she's dragging me to my kennel so she can pick up her 'real' kids. I do like her slippers though, they're fuzzy and now they're ripped from chasing me outside in the snow.

Mom's point-of-view.

"P" Is For Poop, I Mean Puppy

I’m very frustrated with my new mother ("Mom") right now. Does she realize I'm still a puppy? I mean so I jumped on the screen door, and peed on the carpeting, what's the big deal? I think she's upset by this new routine, or that I'm giving her more work.

I know that my sisters would say ‘grow up, lady’ you agreed to getting a dog, a big dog (like my real mom,) so this is what you’re going to have to endure. I agree. Mom needs to deal with her frustrations better.

[30 minutes later]

Apparently both of us don’t realize my huge inability to hold my urine.

I just peed on the kitchen rug! How could this have happened? I just went out! Mom is muttering under her breath about running out of paper towels and scrap rags. At this rate, I’ll have ownership of all the ‘good’ towels, probably by next week. Oooh, Egyptian cotton, lurve it.

[10 minutes later]

Mom just spent 10 minutes shoveling my enormous turds and urine off the deck. I thought they wanted me to go in the snow! If there’s snow there, then I must take a dump there. That's just good reasoning.

Lesson #2 for Mom: Must. Shovel. New Snowfall. Immediately.