Accidents Happen

                NO!  IT CAN’T BE!  We were doing soooooooo well; WERE being the key word in that sentence.  JM is convinced that it was, what he so lovingly calls a “dangle,” but I know better!  It wasn’t a dangle; it was a complete and utter accident.  That’s right!  P had his first accident in months, and yes he hid it like he has done in the past.  I was shocked.  He was doing so well, but this morning when I woke up and got out of bed I smelt a stinky smell; a very familiar odor that should not be in the house, but rather outside in the yard.  I looked high and low, okay, maybe not high, but definitely low for it.  And there it was, lying like an unwanted prize underneath their doggie bed.  Lucky for me, P hasn’t changed up his hiding techniques, because I really didn’t want to tear the house apart only to put it back together again (I have more important things to attend to like homework, UGH! and ICK!).  Once I found this hidden surprise, I was, well, surprised, or more so shocked that P was able to move the sizeable (it’s big enough to fit both him and JD) and heavy bed over on top of the poop.  P is quite the muscle man, errrrm, I mean muscle dog.  So, I cleaned it up, gave P an angry finger shake with the ever so classic “BAD DOG!” line, and now we restart the counter.  How many days, months, or years (if we’re lucky, I'm keeping my fingers crossed) will P go without having a dreaded accident?

Scavenger Hunt

               I was reminiscing the other day with a gal pal of mine, and the topic of romantic gestures came up.  It got me recollecting about the time JM had gotten me a diamond bracelet.  It was our first Valentine’s Day together, and we had only been dating for about three or four months.  JM had gotten me my precious little P for my birthday two months prior, so he was in his sneaky potty/pooping phase.  P stayed at JM’s apartment most of the time, because my brother’s German Shepherds were at our house, and I didn’t want P to get eaten.  When JM had things that needed tending to he kept P child gated in the guest bathroom (since it was the only area that was tiled, well besides the kitchen, but who wants doggie pee and poo where they cook?).  On this Valentine’s Day morning JM phoned me to announce P had gotten me a present (our code word for a poop nugget) and he would like for me to come and get it.  20 minutes passed before I made it to JM’s apartment, and JM had asked if I had seen P’s little gift for me.  Fuming that he waited for me to get there so I could clean it up I peered into the bathroom.  I didn’t see, or smell any poop.  I checked his normal hiding spot behind the toilet, nothing.  Then I looked over at his new bed.  

OH NO!  He didn’t!!!!  I picked up his bed, and felt something weighing it down, at which point my frustration began to bubble that P had soiled his new bed.  I removed the pillow and out plopped a black rectangular box that any gal would recognize.  Filled with mixed emotions I picked it up, opened it, and there it was, a beautiful diamond bracelet.   I punched JM in the arm for sending me on a poop scavenger hunt to find such a thoughtful and probably expensive gift.  Now wasn’t that romantic?