Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery






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Friday, February 27, 2009


Man's Messiest Friend

Look at this handsome dog. Isn't he gorgeous? Doesn't he look intelligent and courageous and fun-loving and loyal? Well he is.

He's also reached a stage in life where he's no longer finding it easy to control his bladder. Which is inconvenient when you're caring for an infant. Because it's not like I can hand Ben his leash and say, "Go walk yourself, I'm trying to put the baby to sleep." Neither can I expect the Kid to hang out in the apartment on his own for awhile as I run Ben downstairs to take care of his business.

This means that, when Ben gives me The Look--and he's such a good boy; he always makes it very clear when it's an emergency, as opposed to a request--I have to snap to it. I've got to get the Kid into a coat and then into the carrier, both of which often cause much wailing, before Ben's kegels give out and piping hot dog piss streams forth onto the carpet upon which my infant son will soon be crawling.

This was an incredibly daunting task at first. My dogs can sometimes get a little freaked by other canines, so I was wary of having them attempt to start a rumble while I had the baby strapped to me. But walking a dog isn't something you can really do solo while pushing a stroller, either, so I had little choice.

Now that I'm a little more used to it, I actually walk both dogs, bend down to pick up turds without the baby falling out of the carrier, and can steer dogs and baby around without as much stress.

The problem now is that I'm not always here when Ben goes from emergency to core explosion. Today, for example, I took the Kid to see his mom at work. He likes it, she likes it, it's nice. When we get home, both of the dogs, as they often do, sat at the end of the hall, right inside the bedroom door, waiting for me. I think they like to be able to get a running start to greet me. I called to them and Mortimer came bounding down the hall. Ben, though, just sat there. When he didn't come, I wondered if he'd done something he knew I wouldn't be happy with, but a quick look around told me this wasn't the case.

So I called to him again and, hesitantly, he got up and started shambling down the hall toward me. Halfway through it, he stopped and just started peeing. I managed to grab his collar and steer him into the kitchen, my thought being that I could at least mop in there. Which I did immediately after he'd let go with a good half-gallon of urine. I then grabbed the Kid from the stroller, where he'd been sitting relatively patiently, and put him in the carrier, which brought said patience to noisy and bitter end.

Ah, what a beautiful scene: screaming kid, incontinent dog and me, walking down the street, leaving a trail of dog piss wherever we went.

Oh, boy. I feel for you. I went through that a few years back with an old dalmatian of mine only it was poo all over. They have "Depends" for dogs but it doesn't work for poo. Perhaps Ben would oblige wearing those? It sure would make your life easier.

And dammit, if he isn't just the cutest dog in that photo...
Actually--knock on wood--he seems to have recovered somewhat the last couple of days. He hasn't been bugging me to go out in the middle of the day and we haven't had an accident in awhile, so I'm hopeful that it's something that has passed.

And, dammit, he is one handsome goddamn dog.
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