Posts Tagged With: pee

5 things me n’ Peterbilt now have in common

And yes, I’m totally aware of the grammatical blunder that title is, but ‘Peterbilt and I’ just seemed too mature for the upcoming content of this post.

First off, let me start on a high note and announce that we found out that Baby is a girl! Myself, Hubs and the bulldogs are thrilled to be expecting a little girl. Especially me, because a girl balances things out in my favor, household-wise. Now our day-to-day life isn’t going to be so much a big, giant, wave-it-in-your-face, sausage party. Because it is now. Seriously. Put it away.


5 months and halfway through my pregnancy, I’m finding out that me n’ Peterbilt have more in common than I like to admit. Pregnancy has heightened many of my senses while at the same time, taken away from others. It’s laughable because I never thought that I would have ANYTHING in common with a creature so morbid and foul, but life has a way of turning shit around on you to knock you down a few pegs. The following are 5 things we now have in common besides our address:

We tolerate each other.

We tolerate each other.

1.) We both are HIGHLY food motivated.

Peterbilt has always been, but until recently, I wasn’t. Pregnancy has amplified my appetite and now we are both transfixed by food. If it’s laying out, we want it. If we think we smell food, we want it. You can’t even talk to us while eating something, without us wanting your food. You can wave a piece of food in your hand in front of our faces and much like those darling kittens in those internet videos, you can watch me and Peterbilt turn our heads in unison together, eyes locked on the prize. If you eat said piece of food instead, you’ll get the same stunned expression out of both of us.

My boss came up to me the other day to talk about some mundane work crap, while peeling an orange:

“That orange looks really good. I really want your orange. Can I have your orange? Not asking anymore, telling. Give me the GOD DAMN ORANGE!”….

…it what was going on inside my head. Didn’t hear a damn thing he said. I though about the orange for like a hour after. I still want that fucking orange.

2.) Heightened sense of smell.

Peterbilt will tell you up and down what a blessing that is, while I’d say it is more of a curse. Peterbilt smells even worse to me now, especially his breath when he yawns in my face (which he does, ALL THE TIME) and I hold my breath when he comes in from the rain. I can also smell if Peter’s had an ‘purpose pee’ in the house while we were away from home, right when I walk in door.

Other smells are more dimensional to me now. While getting a car wash the other day, the colorful soap they squirted on my Jeep TOTALLY smelled like Flintstones chewables. I also can’t stand the smell of Kalla Lilies any more. I had enough of their creepy, sweet yet haunting scents after my dad’s funeral. I’ve also described Dunkin’ Donuts Pumpkin Spice Latte as ‘vomit-flavored Pledge’, although that’s more of a combination of smell and taste. But seriously, that shit is terrible.

3.) We’ve both pissed the bathroom rug.

Peterbilt’s was due to revenge-pee (see ‘purpose pee’ above), while mine was a combination of getting ready for a shower, a semi-full bladder and one very, big sneeze.

4.) We both picked up seasonal allergies this year for the first time in our lives.

Kinda the reason for my #3. For like a week, both Pete and I walked around the house sporting snot fangs.

and finally,

5.) It’s totally gross when we sleep on our backs.

I can’t speak for all pregnant ladies, but it’s the most comfortable sleeping position for me, even though it drives my doctor and husband nuts when I do it. My stomach compresses and you can totally see baby girl poking and kicking through my stomach, like she’s going to rip me open stick her head out at me and shout “Quaid! Quaaaaiidd! Open your miiinnnnnnd!”

(does any one know what movie I just referenced? Bonus points if you do.)

When Peterbilt sleeps on his back, it’s head back, legs apart and junk out, which brings me back full circle to the sausage party I was telling you about. That dog needs a black censor box when he sleeps. For Christ’s sake, Pete. Put it away.

Categories: Babies, Dogs, Pregnancy | Tags: , , , | 4 Comments

Golden Showers

Yep, that’s right. Pee-Pee. A river of it is forming in my house and I’m powerless to stop it.


At 4-1/2 years old, Peterbilt has taken the liberty to totally un-house train himself and now pees in the house, every day, while we are at work. Our house might as well be a fire hydrant.

We’ve tried a variety of things to curb this: morning walks, taking his water away while were away and blocking off his usual pee corners (he just makes new ones). Before we leave, we give him Kongs filled with various foods as busy toys, to no avail. He’s totally healthy, well…physically anyways….as confirmed by the vet. He had one UTI earlier in the year, which came about during this whole ongoing incident, so it was really obvious that he had it when he started peeing blood. But that was resolved with meds and every pee puddle since is just blood-free. So we got that going for us.

He doesn’t piss himself while asleep, nor does he pee in the house while we are home. We have not made any big changes to our house or family or his schedule, that I can see anyways.

To be totally honest, this dog was never 100% house trained. He’d have an accident in the house about a 5-6 times in a given year, usually happening after being boarded at the doggy country club for a few days. We NEVER use to have a behavioral issue with him during the hours of which we went to work. Any emotional outburst by him was usually done at night, if we left to go out.

However, over the last few months the pee puddles have increased steadily to just about every time we leave the house, including when we go to work.

He totally knows he’s in trouble when you come home, too. He looks extremely submissive and is unusually affectionate and loving. He tries to block you from the puddle. On the flip side, on the now rare occasion that he DOESN’T pee in the house, he is excited that we are home and is eager to show us the area that he DIDN’T pee in. He does this special dance in celebration then, where he swings his butt from side to side like he’s doing his own version of The Twist.

This dog is a fucking enigma. What god-forsaken tangled ball of emotional and mental distress could be causing this? I have a few theories, but your guess is as good as mine:


1.) Substitution

Peterbilt has always had separation anxiety and we’re not sure why. It didn’t really manifest itself until he was about 2 years old. He used to deal with it by chewing/eating/destroying our shoes, cherished possessions, hopes and dreams. Since we’ve Bilt-proofed our house, Peterbilt is substituting whizzing in the house for chewing shoes. So we haven’t resolved his anxiety issue. We Band-Aid’ed it and it came off in the pool. It still floating in there. Eww.

2.) He hates the new color of our living room

We’ve recently went from a Sky Blue (what was I smoking 4 years ago?) to a Toasty Taupe. It looks 10x better to me but he just might just have shitty taste in decor. He is colorblind after all.

3.) He’s mad we canceled cable.

Maybe he enjoyed watching Walking Dead with the hubs…but F those assclowns at Comcast. We will wait for that shit to come out on Netflix.

4.) Fear of nuclear war

5.) His heart bleeds for those dogs & cats on those ASPCA commercials, that he can’t watch anymore because we canceled cable.

6.) 2 of the 4 of the Golden Girls are dead.

Mack couldn't be happier about the whole thing.  Every time a Peter pees, another Mack Truck smiles with glee

Mack couldn’t be happier about the whole thing. Every time a Peter pees, another Mack Truck smiles with glee

So we’ve checked marked every possible way to avoid this problem except for one: crating.

I was saving that for last. The mom in me is heart-broken at having to baby-gate him off, as this is surely to affect his quality of life. Poor guy.


The other side of me sees the cost replacing hardwood floors and is tired of having my house smell like tinkle. Our poor mop. It’s perpetually moist. Moist. Don’t you hate that word? I don’t :). Moist.


For my own selfish reasons, I gave Peterbilt another 5 chances or so and he just keeps peeing. I know he’s trying to tell me something, but how can you reason with a dog? A maniac, meathead crack-hound, no less?

So the other night, the hubs and I were eating dinner and discussing this very topic. We let Peterbilt outside to drop a deuce and I told Husband about my guilt about crating him while we are at work. I admitted to myself that I was avoiding it, even praying about it. And just then, we heard a K-K-K-K-K-K-KA-KUNK! outside. Peterbilt slipped on the icy steps of the porch and crashed landed. He came inside with a noticeable limp. Great. Another leg injury.




The answer has been made for us. Crate Peterbilt. Not only for the house-peeing, but to keep him on physical restrictions in hopes that whatever injury it is, it will heal itself and not yield another $4000 surgery. Because an expensive surgery is just what I wanted for Christmas.


Speaking of Christmas, the Christmas tree is now up and that blocks Peter’s favorite pee corner.

God works in mysterious ways.

Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Bulldog Haiku

Guilty Dog

Guilty Dog


Pee-soaked bath mats yay!

9 to 5 is a long time

for an anxious dog.


Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , | 14 Comments

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