Say what you want about my dog, Briggs, but one thing’s for sure. Dude has some serious timing. Why, you ask? Because last week, I wrote a post about him for AimingLow. You know, a standard Briggs post with a garden-variety rundown of his mind numbingly frustrating antics.
Then, just this past weekend, he struck again, such that the post that just got published last night is already outdated. It all started on Saturday morning when Caroline, as she’s wont to do, woke me up with a familiar refrain.
“Your dumbass dog is at it, again.”
“What has he done, now?”
“He’s gotten into the garbage.”
How bad could it be? I thought.
And kinda scattered, too.
Yes. That’s a diaper you see off center to the left. Thank God there was nothing more, um, substantial in it.
“Maybe he’ll grow out of it,” I suggested hopefully.
“He’ NINE, honey.”
So my dog got into the garbage (again). Big deal. I mean, he is a dog. And dog’s do (get it? sorry.) all kinds of gross things. Still, it’s not like he took a shit on the carpet or something. He knows better than that.
Or so I thought.
On Monday, I was keeping Sam and Jack while Caroline took Luke and Kirby to her mom’s. Alli was out with a friend, that is until the friend’s mom brought Alli home while Caroline, Luke and Kirby were still at her mom’s. And the mom is a close friend of ours, so she and her son came inside for a visit.
Which was all well and good, but apparently it got Briggs all riled up. Because he did his typical, spastic dance-type deal the moment they walked in the door. Then he started walking in circles, first around the kids, then around the kitchen. Then, he began to run in and out of the kitchen, leaving from the laundry room side, then sauntering through the living room and reentering on the other side before he’d run toward the laundry room, turn left toward the living room, and repeat.
It was his second time through when I noticed (how shall I put this?) urine dripping from his canine unit. Just little dribbles. All along the kitchen floor. Now, this has happens from time to time. Briggs, so excited he accidentally pees. It’s always just a dribble, though.
Still, to make sure it wasn’t anything more serious, I figured I’d better consult the living room to see how the floor looked over there, you know, since he kept circling from the kitchen to the living room and back to the kitchen… I expected to see a trickle.
Instead I saw this:
So apparently, he’d been circling around to the living room so that he could let out the urine he was compelled to piss out of sheer excitement in a place where I’d not see him. While on the kitchen side, at least, his dribbles were more modest. This was pretty gross stuff, my friends. Even for Briggs.
Just then, Caroline called.
“Is Alli home yet?” she asked.
“Yep. P just brought her by. Hey. Caroline. You know what’s awesome?”
“What?” she asked.
“It’s awesome that Briggs didn’t just piss all over the living room floor.”
“Briggs didn’t just piss all over the living room floor?” she repeated in a confused voice.
“Alright. Fine. You caught him. Happy? He did, Caroline. He did just piss all over the living room floor.”
“So you’re telling me that your dumbass dog is at it, again?”
While the caper was embarrassing, as well as one that called for a mop, it really wasn’t anywhere near as bad as some of his past escapades. Escapades about which I wrote over at AimingLow in a post called My Dog is an Idiot.
But, keep in mind, friends, idiot though he may be (at times, at least), I still love him very, very much. And he ain’t goin’ anywhere. No matter how many times he messes up.