Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Pocket's persistant peeing problem is dwindling

Guess who is peeing less? That's right, me, Pocket Dog. I don't know why. I am socially drinking as much as usual. I'm playing just as hard as always. In fact I killed my green ball. One of my first blogs at the Tanner Brigade was about the passing of my orange ball. Now it's my green ball. Thank god I have a plethora of balls.

Ever since I went to see Doctor Cold Hands I've been peeing less. Maybe it's because the Doctor said he could put me on medication to calm me down. I don't want to be the dog that sits drooling in the chair, scoffing down Foley-tinis, asking to be wheeled into the sunny spot and having my diaper changed 12 times a day (actually, except for the wheeling part, that's exactly how my day is now.)

Mommy agreed. Even with the difficulties that my leaking brings she wouldn't want to change my personality, most of the time.

Up to now I was on a fairly regular weekday peeing schedule

5:30: Get up. Pee
5:35: If I have a walk, pee again before going inside. If not then I just let my pee flag fly
6:05: While Mommy and Daddy are getting ready I have a big bowl of water and pee
6:35: Daddy goes to take me out, sees that I have peed, grows frustrated, takes me out anyway, where, usually I will find reserve pee.
My morning pees are done and I am ready to go in my crate until Mommy comes home at 2:30. Then:
2:35: Pee
2:40: Jump up and down, excited to see Mom, find a corner, pee.
4:15: Daddy comes home. He rushes to take me out before I pee.
4:30: Daddy and I are playing ball. I am having so much fun I pee.
4:35: Daddy sees that I have peed and gets mad. He takes me out. I don't pee
4:40: I pee.
5:10: If Daddy guesses right I pee outside, if not, oh well
6:00: See 5:10.
6:30: Mommy and Daddy are eating. Foley is begging for food but only getting kibble. I'm bored. I pee.
7:00: Daddy takes me out with the trash. He brings me back. I pee. This is our only money in the bank peeing of the night.
7:45: We try to get in one more pee before we settle down for TV watching. Sometimes I go, but sometimes my bladder is tuckered out.
9:00: Before he makes snacks Daddy takes me out. I pee. Unless I hopped down five minutes earlier and peed before he could get to me.
10:00: Bed time. One more pee (unless I grew restless and wanted to play ball, and got played with, then I squeeze out a pee around 9:30.

So that's about 14 pees a day. I averaged the same on weekends. I just smush them all together.

But now I'm down to about 7 pees a day, couple in the morning, one when Mommy gets home, one when Daddy gets home, one after playing ball, one after supper, and maybe one more at night.

I don't know why I have changed, but I do have a theory. I think there are Who's living in my carpet.

That's right, beneath our feet there is a small Whoville settlement, and I've been peeing on them for two years. I think they call me the Pocket who Peed on Christmas. Recently, when I was lying on the rug, I heard them singing "Fahoo Foray, Fahoo Foray, get your umbrella, it's Pocket peeing day." And according to the Whos, my bladder grew three sizes that day. So now I am able to hold it longer and there is even talk that I might be able to go without my undergarment if I keep the pee sucked up inside me until it's time to be released.

So, I want to thank my Mommy for having so much patience, and either the Whos who made my bladder grow larger, or the doctor, who has me so drugged up I think the carpet is singing to me.

Either way Pocket has gone three accident free days in this workplace. We will keep you posted, with postings. Now I'm going to listen to the Whos.

They're playing Baba O'Foley.

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