Bad dog, Spotty!
"Spot! What have you done! Bad dog! Now go to your bed and stay there. Just for that, I'm taking away your favorite squeaky hamburger toy. Now go lay down and hang your head in shame mister, that's right."
Waking at 6:00 am on a cold windy morning in December has never been my favorite activity. In fact, rising that early in any climate has is a burden. You can usually find me in a catatonic state tripping over myself attempting to put pants on. Thank God for thick padding underneath the rug in my room.
Spot, (as you may have guessed) is my dog. I got him when my girlfriend moved out. She was a beautiful, but she had a passion for UFO's and aliens. She sat in the back yard one time chanting some weird stuff about the sons of mars and moon and how they would return soon in their mothership. I loved her, but she was a psycho.
Anyway, It's a well-known fact that girls love dogs. So, I tried to convince her to come back to me the old fashioned way - (Come on now baby, Snuggle-wuggles, give me a slippery smooch, yum - yum - yum).
It didn't work. So there we were, me and Spot.
Despite his presence, I felt lonely so I showed him my family photo's. "This was Fred, my first dog, he was the best dog I ever had. Ah, no offence. And this one's me as an infant, don't I look like a baby woodchuck?
He was great to have around, but a bad pattern developed with his wee wee making. Spot was displaying more of his avant-garde designs on the rug, leaving me a bit puzzled. Action needed to be taken.
Imagine going to the library and asking for a book on urination problems.
The girl there - a real cute blonde with lots of white teeth - gave a sad sigh, but before I could finish telling her who it was for, she burst out laughing and couldn't stop.
She finally got herself together to get me the book, but I saw her glance at her co-worker with that look that said, Yeah right, I'll bet this guy hasn't got a racked-up credit card from going through beds, ha-ha. He looks like he could be wearing a diaper right now.
Explaining that it was for my dog brought a sudden change in her demeanor.
"Oh! you have a dog? I love dogs!" Then a look of suspicion crossed her face as she inquired further - Are you taking care of him? Your not lying are you? (she said this while looking down at my crotch). In the end, I gave her a smile. Funny enough, she gave me one back. :)
However, It seemed no matter how many times Spot had the opportunity to relieve himself outside, he'd still find a way to put a leg up indoors. Perhaps, one of the books suggested, it was due to separation anxiety. If your not around enough, dogs will rip apart or destroy your furniture. Was he trying to tell me something? Come to think of it, my girlfriend "accidentally" broke a lot of stuff in the house before she moved out.
One night, I went to a party with lots of beer and food. Spot was glad to see me when I got back. His tail wagged a mile a minute and there was no doggie mess to contend with. Watching me stagger up the stairs must have been great entertainment for spot. Everything looked fine otherwise.
The next morning though, it was a different story. Spot must have been drinking out of the tiolet all night. (Don't worry, I keep it clean and flushed). The stain on the rug resembled what might of happened when the walls of the titanic burst open. Maybe taking away his favorite bone as punishment would be a bit too harsh, but, it would teach him once and for all not to fool with me. Wouldn't it?
Well, the next night, to my surprise, changed everything.
I guess it was about three in the morning. I dreamt I was walking through a beautiful park when two ducks walked by wearing sneakers. They were discussing their old age problems: sore foot-pads, sore butts...when just up ahead, there appeared a huge waterfall.
That's when Spot came into the scene and started barking up a storm. In fright, I woke up only to find myself standing in the middle of the living room!
A mild state of confusion overtook me when I looked down.
Spot was not the night-time culprit of stains after all. I stood in silence with a pang of guilt, shamefully aware of my leaky escapades. My mind could hear Spot's thoughts loud and clear as he looked at me with a shadow of disdain.
"You were wrong weren't you? I'm disgusted. ("growl").
It now appeared that all those nights of coming in late with odd schedules must have thrown off my sleep routines and filled my bladder like a bathtub. I was sleepwalking and I didn't know it. I felt so ashamed of myself. I not only gave Spot back his bone, but went out and bought some new toys. He must have known all along about my problem and decided he had enough. A specialist gave me some advice. (I swear I heard his secretary laugh after she closed the door).
Thankfully, the sleepwalking mishaps have diminished. Spot turned out to be a great friend who helped me out. In fact, he even helped me in another way too.
Remember how I said girls love dogs? Well, we ran into that cute one from the library the other day. I bumped into her during one of our walks and she kept us company. I'm calling her tonight. It turns out my being smitten with her was reciprocated.
Although, I'm not sure Spot was genuinely all that impressed.
"So how's the poor little spotty doing today," she said. "Your so cute aren't you fella, huh. Do you want us to get you some doggie diapers? Are you feeling better now about your little wee wee maker?
"Uh, yes," I stated quickly. "He's feeling much better, ha-ha. Aren't you Spotty?"