An old dog learns a new trick. About the wonders of wee.

March 9, 2009

Bonita has gone home. Back to Canada and snow. And insulated houses and central heating.

Which leaves only three of us now to rub shoulders in this tiny house. It also means the chances of me getting into the bathroom in the morning before my bladder explodes have greatly improved. And, believe me, having your bladder explode can ruin your whole day. Not to mention the bedclothes and my favorite pair of Krispy Kreme boxer shorts.

Of course, being equipped with Planet Man plumbing, I do have the option of stepping outside before leakage can occur, although that does raise the probability of my neighbours spurting coffee out of their noses.

It was during one such late-summer saunter into the backyard — the dew cold on my bare feet, the birds stunned into silence — that my mind wandered to thoughts of our friend’s dog Baxter.

The friend is currently nursing an injury and so Viking Woman, JB and I have been taking Baxter for his twice-daily constitutionals. Actually, Viking Woman and JB have been doing the walks. I only tagged along once, after the mixture of a warm Sunday afternoon and a pitcher of pina coladas meant someone who could actually feel sensation in their legs should be included in the group jaunt. You know, in case Baxter forgot the way home.

Baxter is a male dog. Baxter’s bladder is bigger than my head. It has to be, because he lifted his leg every five paces and continued to do so for the next 40 minutes.

Why do male dogs feel the urge to pee on everything? I could probably find the answer using Wikipedia, but I’m just going to use my imagination here and wing it.

I’m guessing Baxter’s urine tagging is similar to humans leaving Post-It notes:

“Hellooooo, ladies. The Bax is in the house.”

“My territory extends from here to . . . here . . . to here . . . to . . .”

“Hmm, I can’t eat this or screw this, so  . . .”

“This is my bush. And this is my power pole. And this is my tree. And this is my patch of grass. And this is my baby stroller. And this is my car. Although I’m not sure what I’m going to do with that.”

My point is that Baxter would sniff out something he found interesting, anything, really, that happened to catch his attention, and proceed to wee all over it. Flagging it. Claiming it.

So I’m standing there in dawn’s chilly embrace, barely conscious, recycling last night’s Diet Coke in a steaming arc of triumph, and this notion crosses my sleep-fuzzed mind: What if I were to do the same as Baxter? What if I were to mark my possessions, my territory, so everyone would know to back away. To steer clear. To bugger off.

This is how my brain rolls before I’ve soaked it in caffeine. But — weirdly enough — it made sense.

Before Bonita left, I was the lone resident of Planet Man in the house, forced to live in close quarters with three women, only one of whom I could divorce. They were in my kitchen, they were touching my things, they were moving my things. With impunity, without a second thought, simply because they felt this feminine urge to “do something.”

But what if — some dark, quiet night — I were to spread my, um, scent around? To leave some Eau du Planet Man on whatever I wanted to claim as my own, be it territory or object. Be it kitchen or remote control.

My very next thought was this: Why restrict such behavior to the house?

Surely there are other things I can claim as my own by the simple act of hosing them down. For instance, one of my neighbours has a neatly-chopped pile of firewood and the New Zealand winter is closer than we’d like to think. Oh, and I did spot that 50-inch plasma TV the other day at a downtown electronics store.

All it would take is one quick squirt and they’d be mine.

Messy? Just a little. Smelly? What’s your point?

Easy? Oh, yeah.

I already know what you’re thinking: “John, that is sheer brilliance.”

Brilliance? Face it, we’re pretty much full of it here on Planet Man.

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3 Responses to “An old dog learns a new trick. About the wonders of wee.”

  1. Brenda said

    Men are sick, especially when reaching mid life crisis time and time again.

  2. Megan said

    why do women take so long in the bathroom?? I’m one of them and I am baffled. Seriously..pee, wipe, flush. Why does that turn into 5 minutes?

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