The Princess and the Pee

If you haven't guessed by now, we have a dog. I have had girlfriends who were high maintenance, but not like this.

She has settled down a bit, so she's not continually following me around, licking my face whenever it's almost in reach. She has her places, her duty, her role. She watches over the house and those precious people in it. That's where the bark comes from.

The first few weeks, she wasn't so. She was barely there. Oh, sure, she followed us around a lot, but her real personality and, well, obstinence finally began to come out.

For instance, an example about her insistence on having her way: when I get up in the morning, I am very cognizant of the fact that she's going to need to pee. Soon. So I take her down the back stairs in my sweat pants and slippers, trying not to slip on the wet stairs with this precious cargo. And when we get down there, I put her on the grass. She doesn't like wet paws, so she runs to the brick. But mostly, on the way to the dry brick, she pees. And then looks at me. And then runs upstairs.

But now she's refusing to pee out in the backyard. So I take her out front on the leash. She looks for her spot, smells for her spots, and then releases. However, I hate it, because I have to dodge the cars, protect her while doing so, and be out there either in my almost-jammies or get fully dressed. Sheesh.

So it's a constant battle. Soon, we will have disciplinary lessons! For both of us.