Everybody loves a good mystery, and this one is a real pisser…
Yesterday, J-Fed woke up on the wrong side of the bed apparently. From across the house, I heard him uttering his favorite words &*)_^%$ and ^&*. Now, let me preface this all by saying that I had slept in the other room as J-Fed had gone out to celebrate his birthday at the local watering hole the night before. Needless to say, I didn’t approve – birthday or no birthday. His visits to the nearby bar were a major source of contention between the two of us.
Anyways, I entered the bedroom to find out what all of the hollering was about. The birthday boy was on his hands and knees wiping up a giant puddle of… you guessed it, piss. J-Fed immediately threw the dogs to the wolves.
“The %^&^ dogs pissed on the floor,” he shouted in a fury.
The first thing I noticed was that the Hounds of Basketcaseville DIDN’T scamper per their usual MO. No, they sat there perfectly poised and eyed J-Fed like he was no better than a common alley cat. There was no shame in their game, no deer in the headlights look. If they were guilty, they were hiding it well this time. Nothing in their appearance said “oops, I did it again.”
The next thing that clued me into their possible innocence was the absence of stench. These dogs weigh a lot, and their piss carries a heavy smell. Walk into a room where they’ve let loose and you’re likely to gag on the odor. Needless to say, I could smell urine, but it didn’t smell like theirs. No, the scent smacked of man, drunk man, I say.
I grew suspicious, especially when I let them outside to go to the bathroom, only to see them both gushing like Niagara Falls. That’s hardly the response I’d expect from a dog who’d just gone to the bathroom in the house. It’s elementary my Dear Watson.
Clue #4: The paper towels J-Fed had used to wipe up the floor were damp with a mild yellow tint, not the heavy yellow stain that frequently accompanies a pile of their dog piss. Now if I sound like I’m an expert on canine urine, it’s because I am. I’m the one usually doing the dirty work.
Back to our mystery, J-Fed had no sooner left for work, head hung over, than I needed my digital camera out of our bedroom armoire. To my shock and awe, I pulled open the drawer, only to find a big puddle of liquid. Oh. My. God. My camera case was drenched. My DVD player was soaked. An accident had definitely occurred. I would have lunged at the Dog #1 and Dog #2, but in their own doggie way, they were laughing. Why? All of the markings were pointing to J-Fed.
Now, I was willing to bet that there was no cocking involved on behalf of the hounds. I had a sneaking suspicion that J-Fed was the culprit in the mystery of who pissed on my $1,500 armoire.
The evidence pointed to J-Fed and his wild night of lemon drop shots. My guess was that in a drunken stupor he had mistaken the bedroom armoire for the bathroom.
I’ve tried to confront J-Fed about it, but he maintains his innocence from his hotel room down the street.
As for the dogs, they’ve told me “if the piss don’t fit, you must acquit.”