Wednesday, November 24, 2010
A Chance of Showers
Last night after bowling I came home to find Mark cowering in the corner of the bedroom.
"Look in the shower. I haven't been able to go in there all night."
I figured a dead rat was in there, so I walked in, turned on the light, and there it was. A dog turd in the shower. A dog turd deposited in the middle of a puddle of pee in the shower. The mystery was solved. Sasha is shower trained. She could poop on the rug next to Mark's side of the bed. That would be exciting, especially in the middle of the night. Or, she could leave one behind the sofa, or under the dining room table, causing me to search for the aromatic gift. But no, she being a well brought up little dog put it in the most convenient, easy to clean place she could find.
Sasha was supposed to be Mark's dog. He has in fact walked her twice in two weeks, fed her zero times, and has never picked up one of her turds. He also wants to change her name to Toto, and he wonders why she never comes when he calls her. No, the fact is that Sasha is Chandler's dog. She is the one that entertains him now, chasing around the living room every evening instead of him bringing me a saliva soaked squeaky toy to throw a hundred times. So if she wants to poop in Mark's shower, I say fine. If she wants to poop next to Mark's side of the bed, she has to warn me. I need time to go get the video camera.