Friday, January 29, 2010


This was our beloved pup, Duke. You might have heard me mention him here the other day. We had to put him down almost a year and a half ago and I still can’t talk about him without crying. It breaks my heart every single time. So on to my story before I start having a breakdown.

When we first moved to DC, Mark’s parents took the dogs to for a while so that we could get settled without two big mutts running around a tiny apartment. Their first night at our new place, we were stoked. We were so excited to have them back that we forgot about the havoc they can wreak.

The next morning we’re all rolling out of bed when I walk into the bathroom and see urine all over our toilet. Instinctively, I yell at Mark.

Me: What the hell were you doing in the bathroom?

Mark: What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Me: There is urine ALL OVER the toilet! What did you do, go in the dark?

At this point, Mark walks into the bathroom to see for himself what’s gotten me so upset. Right after seeing it, he says, “I didn’t do that.” Oh, really? Well, if he didn’t, who the hell did? Of course you already saw where this story was going, but we pretty much realized who the culprit was at the same time.

Not only did Duke feel his need to mark his territory on the toilet, but also on numerous other surfaces in our apartment. He’d been quite the busy boy during the night. From the next night on, the doors to the bedroom were always closed and Duke had to suffer with snacking out of the cat box, one of his favorite hobbies. But that’s a story for another day. 

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