You peed in my bedroom.
It required an 'emergency' phone call to stanley steemer.
Because I couldn't locate exactly where you had done it, there was no hope of cleaning it myself. But believe me I tried. As I crawled around my bedroom carpet with a towel and a jar of warm vinegar water sniffing each square inch I thought how ridiculous this was. Especially considering you go outside to pee every.single.hour from 9pm-1am. In, out, in, out. Agh.
And because you are extremely old- one fancy schancy leg hike (let's be real- you're so old you just squat now- but I'll let you keep your dignity old boy) and my entire bedroom smelled like a men's toilet at the local saloon. Thanks for that. Nothing says rest like the smell of really really strong old dog urine.
It took me HOURS to prepare for emergency carpet cleanerizing. Cleaning out under children's beds, dragging crap out of kid's closets, vacuming baseboards, you have no idea how upset with you I am.
Not to mention the cost. Plus the extra for 'odor neutralization'. And me feeling humiliated to drag these poor young men into my bedroom and tell them to 'find that horrible smell or else'.
Or how Dan spoke of murder and you in the same sentence.
Be glad you are
such a good watch dog, no wait. A good mouser. Helpful. Playful with the kids. So entertaining. Fun to take on walks. Good at chasing a ball. Cute. Yeah, that's it. Be glad you are cute- or you would so be out of here.
Be glad you can't hoist your behind on the the sofa anymore. I was tired of dog hair on the furniture and that was going to be another conversation.