I know why Captain Ahab had it out for that whale now... Allow me to tell entertain.
Cassie, a fellow MFA lovely, had to be escorted back home last night from class because, poor thing, she was on some pain meds. Her wisdom teeth were pushing on the nerves in her mouth causing her to be in excruciating pain and therefore have to have an emergency extraction this morning on an Ice Day, of all things (Sending you hugs and happy, Cas!). What a trooper!
Anyway, security carried my poor friend back to the homestead leaving Leigh Anne and I the job of getting Cassie's car back to her house. A little background on Cassie's living situation (I know, tons of side stories here, but the good stuff is coming!), she lives in this beautiful historic home with two other girls, one of whom has a dog, Moby.
Moby has no sense of bladder control, as I have been told. He pees on Cassies bed, he pees on the roommates bed, apparently tossed his cookies on his owner's, peed on the floor, basically anywhere he wishes and does so quite freely. I even found out that this dog will sometimes roll over onto his back only to jet out a stream onto any unsuspecting passerby. My question to this: Why hasn't the owner done anything to correct this?!
Leigh Anne and I trot up to Cassie's door, happy to see our medicated friend, puffy cheeked and all. As she opens the door, this white, matted, rat looking thing starts bounding all around our feet. I can only assume it's the Prince Peer himself, Moby. Bladder Boy is super excited to see new people and just a wigglin' all over the place like I don't know what. Clawing at my leg, I jokingly say, "Moby, you better not pee on me!" Never in a million years thinking that could ever happen. HA! Fate has a funny way of getting her kicks, let me tell you.
There, next to his bouncing body is a growing puddle of liquid. My eyes about pop out of my head when he darts away from me because there, THERE ON MY SHOE is a trail of pee. The dog had peed on me. And all over the floor! Needless to say I pulled the dramatic card, unable to contain myself any longer. The voice shot up about five octaves to screech, "MY SHOE! HE PEED ON MY SHOE" a few hundred times because once is never satisfying enough. Needless to say, I was slightly pissed off--pun intended (Cheap shot, I know, but you'd take it, too!). Moby just stands there, tail wagging, pleased with his marking on my foot--great, now my foot is his personal fire hydrant. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Meanwhile, Leigh Anne is holding onto Cassie for support because clearly this is a funny situation (truly it was) and their hearty laughs have glued their feet to floor, incapable of coming to my rescue. I love to see my friends. Seeing them doubled over, red faced and crying in silent laughter, well I had to bust a gut myself at this predicament I was in.
Wiping the tears away and finally catching our breath, the mess was cleaned up, the moment never to be forgotten. What gets me most is that on our way out, I patted Moby's head thinking, "You know, dogs do that and then they forget. It's not his fault his dingbat of an owner didn't train him properly." At that precise moment, Moby pees on the couch. (Gives a whole new meaning to the term, "Little Pisser.) Could it have been he was so scared of this crazy woman who had been making a ruckus minutes earlier over or did he do it just because he wanted one more dig at me before I left? Who knows. I can only say that I will be wearing rain boots to Cassie's from now on.