You know how they say dogs don’t do things because they’re mad at you or to get back at you? I kinda call that bullshit. You know why I call that bullshit? Riley’s never had a problem with the urinating in the house. He knows when it’s time to go to the bathroom, and there have been times when I’ve been sick, that he’s patiently waited much longer than any dog ever should to go outside to pee.
And now, about a month after Kentucky moved in, Riley’s decided it’s okay to pee in the house. Wherever he wants even. Just as long as he’s looking you right in the eye when he does it. What the hell is that about?
Sure, you can go ahead and stop him from doing it, but then he just runs around peeing all over the apartment instead of just once place. You can run outside with him, but then you have to clean up a whole line of urine from the third floor all the way down and out onto the front porch.
And I’m sure it’s not a urinary tract infection, mainly because he and I drink vodka cranberries with dinner every evening.
I threaten him with leaving him at the pound and sometimes murder; The General threatens him by reminding him that dogs are a delicacy in some countries. Nothing seems to work. I’m certainly not just “giving up”, but holy crap, is it getting old.