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Random Blog Journey-2-Peace: December 2003

    Trish Monaco.
    singer. songwriter.
    dog walker.
    human. living.
    loving. laughing.
    in Los Angeles

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Tuesday, December 30, 2003

Find It!

originally posted here


Hunny doesn't like it when I go out without her. She sometimes lets me know how upset she is by either eating my leftovers or peeing on the carpet.

I always try to bring her outside so she can "find it" before I leave. This way her bladder won't spill too much for me to clean up later. But because I've been going out so much lately - holidays, birthdays, etc. - she's been catching on. She knows I'm dressed to go and she's determined to make me late.

My cue for her is "find it." Which basically means, "find your spot, do your business and let's go." Works like a charm - unless she thinks I'm going to leave her once she's finished. So I have to say it in a tone that sounds fun to trick her into thinking we're about to go somewhere TOGETHER.

The first few start an octave higher than my normal speaking voice and go something like this, "Find it. Atta girl. Who's a good find-it girl?" [this one got old a week before Christmas] Eventually my voice begins to drop while trying to keep my cool. At some point I lose complete control with a teeth-gritting, low rumble "F.I.N.D. I.T." This is when Hunny has the upper paw. She stops pretending to sniff for a spot, gets this smug look on her face, looks me square in the eye and sits. I'VE LOST.

Convinced she's doing this on purpose [usually in the pouring rain!] I throw a tantrum for all the neighbors to hear, "Why are you doing this to me? I need you to find it. Fine Hunny. Don't find it. See if I care. You little..." I usually stop myself at that point [or I keep the rest to a silent whisper] I want to drag her inside but instead, she prances! [remember, she won!]

Today I came home to the lingering stench of Hunny-pee. How could this be? I scrubbed the carpet last night. And Hunny was with me all day. I thought I cleaned it all - by the couch, under the table, in that corner by the TV. Where could it be now? Frustrated, I dropped to all fours, searching, sniffing. Behold Hunny speaking perfect English, "Find it. Atta girl. Who's a good find-it girl?"

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