My worst nightmare is having a house that smells like dog pee. Forget zombies or that dream where you’re at the grocery store nekkid. Having a house that smells and that people talk about behind my back is my number one fear.
This is Li’l Frankfurter.
|If you sleep on your toys, that keeps your dog bro from filching your stuff.|
He’s a dachshund. He does not give a rat’s ass about anything. Sure, he’ll go potty outside … if you remind him. But now that it’s getting colder? Nope. Left to his own devices, he’d happily pee behind the couch.
Yeah. I rearranged our living room furniture because “behind the couch” became a magical land where all dog folk could do whatever they wanted. Now, there is no “behind the couch.” And Li’l Frank has been feeling … displaced.
So, our TV room is where the kennels are. And it’s been smelling a little funky as of late. Why yes, just last week, I washed all our floors with hot water and vinegar. Yeah, on my hands and knees. But no, I didn’t move the couch in the TV room. It’s heavy and I was already in need of both attitude and chiropractic adjustments.
But last night? Last night, I noticed a few drops of liquid on the floor, right at the corner of said heavy couch. You know, right next to Li’l Frank’s kennel? Some paper towel investigation showed that Li’l Frank had marked the corner of the couch … and there was an ocean of urine under the couch.
I moved the couch.
And this is what I found.
|No, that’s not an archaeological dig.|
Li’l Frank had confiscated bones from his brother, pushed them under the corner of the couch, and then marked the couch as his territory.
On one hand, I admire his ingenuity. And to stash his haul right next to his kennel? Smart move.
On the other hand? It’s going to be a long winter.