Just an ordinary summer morning. I prepared all the
paperwork I needed for the day. Checks, payment stubs, envelopes, stamps. I got
the empty returnables ready for a trip to the grocery store. I picked up Nicky’s
now-empty water bottle to ready it for refill/refreeze. Even in upstate New
York, August is hot. Pups need attentive helpers to get through it unscathed. A
frozen water bottle on a gravity drip can be heaven on a hot day.
But today’s not a hot one. It’s within the 40/70 parameters
for safety for dogs in cars. Nicki loves to go with me. I’m not so sure she
loves car trips – but she does always love to go with me.
So. I load up my arms and hands with all the various objects
that need to be moved/shifted/dealt with, and head downstairs. At the kitchen
door, Nicki, full of anticipation of a forthcoming trip, decides it’s the perfect
time to stop dead under my feet. In trying to not step on her, or to step over
her, I can’t actually see her and can’t be sure of what I’m doing. I eventually
HAVE to put a foot down somewhere, and – as luck would have it - I step on Nicki.
Drat! I’m loud. Not at Nicki – but it doesn’t matter. Loud human voices mean
bad things to her. Still, when faced with such a situation, I’m given to loud
expressions of stress.
When I regain my footing, I see the cowering. I know what
this means. I head for the paper towels, knowing that a urine clean-up lies
ahead. Yup – right on cue. The trail follows her cowering movements. Dang.
I get out the Nature’s Miracle and start the process. I call
Nicki to let her outside for the rest. She’s cowering at the junction of the
bathroom door off the kitchen. I never said a word to her, nor did I direct any
energy at all in her direction. Nonetheless, loud voices meant bad things for
Nicki – in the past – and there’s not enough “new” past to change that yet.
I let her out, spray the enzymes around, and head down to
the basement to put something else away. When I come back up the stairs, the
change in light angles allows me to see clearly that she was not merely
cowering in this spot: she peed. A lot. There is a righteous pool of urine
sitting at the joint of two pieces of my brand new flooring. New kitchen flooring
for which I have waited over 20 years. And dog urine is seeping into the seem…..
I mop it up, as I have done with all the rest of it. How can
such a small dog have such a huge bladder?? And, again without scolding, I let
Nicki back in.
Eventually, I realize that, in her fear, she peed – not only
on my floor – but on herself. I have a no-rinse cleaner that I recently got
from a hospital visit. I use the cleanser on Nicki and towel her off. She
actually seems to appreciate it.
So – The enzymes are at work trying to save my floors. The
no-rinse cleaners are at work trying to de-scent my pup. The urine is mopped up
– and I hope my floors are ok. At no time did Nicki receive a harsh word or
harsh treatment – but the shadows remain.
I almost tripped over my dog – and some @$$hole made it much
worse than just a misstep. Poor Nicki expected something far worse than me
being momentarily loud and unhappy. And in sheer terror, she urinated on everything,
including herself.
Thanks, @$$hole. From both of us. Footnote: you’re not going
to win. It’s only coming up on one year with us for Nicki. Eventually, this
will stop. I’m going to prove to her that stuff like this doesn’t get her a
beat down. Doesn’t get her tied out in a yard and ignored forever. Doesn’t get her
abandoned. Doesn’t get her betrayed. I’m going to prove to her that events like
this don’t have to happen at all. That humans can sound loud and unhappy
without hurting her. That we all figure it out before the end of the day – and that
we all get to cuddle in the bed together at nightfall. And all WILL be
forgiven.
Because love wins, @$$hole. It just does.
