Once upon a time in a midsize village in northeastern Illinois dwelt a little dog named Mitchell and Dog-Mom. Dog-Mom dutifully walked Mitchell at least twice if not thrice or even four times a day if the weather was willing. Mitchell always was willing…unless the weather was not.
Mitchell always knew where they were going. Sometimes they would head west toward Auntie Karen’s house. Sometimes they would head east toward a different subdivision with lots and lots of cul-de-sacs. Dog-Mom would find out which way they were going because Mitchell always picked. and Dog-Mom had little to say about the matter.
Anyway, every tree, bush, blade of grass, water hydrant, and mail box bore Mitchell’s dutiful mark, and he would check each one on the various trails as he and Dog-Mom went on their merry way. (If Hansel and Gretl had Mitchell with them, they would never have needed bread crumbs.)
One day, Dog-Mom and Mitchell met a new puppy on their walk, and Mitchell decided to let the puppy know whose neighborhood it was.
A conversation ensued.
Puppy peed on one of Mitchell’s trees.
Mitchell peed on his tree, and then kicked grass in the puppy’s face.
The puppy peed on the tree again.
Mitchell re- peed the tree, and then peed in the puppy’s face.
This pee conversation continued endlessly as the two Dog-Moms watched and laughed their asses off until the puppy finally gave up and rolled over on his back in total submission.
Mitchell was finally happy. It was his tree after all, and puppy learned a valuable lesson. Don’t pee on any tree while Mitchell is around, or you might need a bath.
Marianne's Musings 