Early February delivered a respite from the cold and wet winter. Temperature sneaked into the 60s. My parents broke out the leashes. They had decided to take us for a proper walk, not just a few steps on the cold tar until we poop and then we are hurried back inside.
The best part about getting a walk after weeks of being stuck inside is catching up on the pee-mail. These missives from my neighbors have been piling up on the grass throughout the site. It was time to respond.
. I didn't get my first bit of new mail until I went around the corner. Near a rock Lea, a poodle who lives behind my house wrote that her parents had made her wear booties outside. She had been clomping around the area like a Clydesdale ever since. She asked if any of us have been subjugated to wearing the dreaded booty. I peed that thankfully I hadn't. Foley did once, but a chilling look from her to my parents put a stop to that experiment. I recommended for Lea to practice ferocious looks in the mirror.
Walker, a friendly Doberman, fretted that he had lost his favorite tennis ball. He wanted to know if any of us had seen it. I told him I would keep an eye peeled. Personally, I figured he would never find it. The Earth is round, and once something starts rolling it is impossible to know where it will stop.
Roscoe was an intact beagle who had lost the scent of the girl he loved. He left this message. “Hey, if you happen to see the most ovulating girl whose scent escaped me. Tell her I'm sorry and that I want her to have my baby.” Sorry, no pee for you. I'm not getting involved in that.
The next mail I read promised red rocket enhancement. Ugh. Spam pee. I immediately blocked the mall by pooping on it. I then left a pee demanding that whoever left this message would be put on the no pee list. I know it's a drastic step, and I don't judge how a dog puts kibble on the table, but whoever left this message will have to hold it in until they pass my neighborhood.
Under a cluster of trees, I found my w-poo form. Thank God! I needed it for my records.
We were almost near the end of our walk. I hoped I had enough pee squirts. It is considered the height of rudeness in dogdom if you sniff and don't reply.
The next time I buried my nose in the grass I backed away coughing. Cat pee! This is one foul smelling urine. I'm not suggesting we go back to the days of separate-but-equal lawns, but the unexpected smell of cat pee in your nostrils is unsettling in the extremist.
At our neighbor's house, I came across some River pee. She was complaining about my snoring. I ignored it. They say if you don't want to know what a family member thinks about you don't read their pee.
In the corner of our yard, I found some returned Christmas pee. I'm going to have to check my list before I send my Christmas pee out next year. I always seem to let out more piss then I receive.
When I got home, I napped. My parents thought I was tired from the walk when actually it is the reading that exhausts me.
Hopefully, it won't be a matter of weeks until I can check my mail again. I hate when pee backs up.