Pissing Contest

So I have this little thirteen-pound female Lhasa Apso, Noga, and my parents have this sixty-pound, morbidly obese, elderly Cardigan Corgi, Glider.  When Noga and I am visiting my parents, which is often, of course Noga has to go pee in the yard every once in a while; and if Glider is not asleep on his bed, which is where he can generally be found at any time, he will go outside and pee on top of where Noga peed, just to make sure that everyone knows whose yard it is.

Friday nights I make dinner for my parents in honor of the Jewish Sabbath.  I try to make something special, and I buy special kosher wine (NOT Mogen David or Manischewitz) and do as much of the traditional ritual as they can bear.  I gauge this by the angle of my father’s head relative to his chest, and my mother’s frequency of shifting in her chair.

This past Friday night proceeded as usual, except that I had made a dish that broke away from my usual barbecued kosher chicken or salmon: sauteed chicken livers with onions and white wine over Thai rice noodles.  It was too rich for me, but they loved it, being traditional Ashkenazi Jews from the New York suburbs, back when they weren’t suburbs but small towns and farm land; and chicken livers are a great delicacy for them, so I made them.

In light of the special meal there was lively conversation.  My mother had read a book about religious Jews, and being quite secular herself, had lots of questions and challenges to the beliefs that the book presented, especially since the book had presented the beliefs of religious Jews in a less than positive light.

In the meantime, little Noga was dancing around, trying to tell me, or anyone, really, that she needed to go outside.  By the time it sank into my brain, it was quite an emergency, and when I got up from the table to open the door for her, she only made it as far as the doormat.  Oh well, my mistake; so I got the paper towels and sopped up the mess.

Enter Glider, who immediately hauled himself off his dog bed (he always reminds me of a bull seal hauling himself onto a rock), and trundled toward the door.  I KNEW what he was up to: he wanted to piss on top of Noga’s accident.  I ran and tried to get him to go outside, but no dice: he turned around and went back to his bed and lay down.  My mother was not happy that I had interfered with him.  She is very protective of her dog and cat.

And so it went for half an hour, as we tried to finish dinner:  Glider would get up and head for the doormat (I knew what he was up to), I would jump up and try to steer him around it and out the door, and he would head back for his bed.

Finally my mother could take no more of what she perceived as my interference in Glider’s needing to go out, and demanded to let him out herself.  “Bevakasha,” I said, which is Hebrew for “go right ahead, please, suit yourself, have a nice day,” and lots of other things.  She ushered Glider to the door, right over Noga’s drying pee spot and, sure as shooting, without even breaking step, he let loose a stream of pee all over the doormat AND the floor.

“See?” I said excitedly.  “See that?  That’s what he’s been meaning to do the whole time!”

“See what?” Said my mother, who had not seen.  In her defense, I will say that it was dark there.

“See THAT,” I said triumphantly, showing her the trail of pee that started on the tile floor and ran straight over Noga’s little spot.

“Well I’ll be damned,” says Mom, “the sonovabitch peed all over the place.”  I was vindicated.

Just goes to show, people aren’t the only ones who will go to great lengths to have the last word.

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14 Comments

  1. HA!! 😀 I love the moral to your story!! 😀

    Reply
  2. Ain’t it true??? 😀

    Reply
  3. LOL! That story of your’s did actually make me laugh. I could picture the whole thing since you wrote with such great visuals. 😀

    Reply
  4. hahaha love the moral of the story! I could just see his little head working as you told the story that’s one dog who knows what he wants and won’t stop till he gets it! 🙂

    Reply
    • Oh, Corgis are famous for their hard-headedness and determination. They were bred for herding the tough Welsh cattle, and are thus dubbed “Welsh cattle-fences.” Once they get onto something, they won’t come off until they’ve accomplished their goal…which could be a good thing….or not!

      Reply
      • I’m no royalist, but the Queen has Corgis…I wonder if she has the same kind of tolet issues with hers……

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      • Lol stubborn to the end…sounds familiar with my collie cross he’ll only do what he wants to do and once he has his eye on something it takes a lot to turn him away from it 😉

        Reply
  5. It makes Shabbos supper at my house when my folks come round look positively shtetl! Mind you our two kittens insist on pooing close to, but not actually in the litter tray…..go figure.

    Reply
  6. No,but my mother (in her head) is still living in a Stalinist labour camp in Siberia. O.K., it’s not so shtetl … Friday night I do a no frills chicken and pearl barley soup, roast chicken and roast potatoes. Oh, and homemade challah (most weeks).

    Reply
    • Oy, poor mom. But the food sounds good!

      I used to have a female Pembroke Corgi who was a granddaughter of the Queen Mum’s….she was very particular about everything…we used to call her the “Royal Bitch”. But she was devoted to my son, and if he was sick in bed she would not leave him, even to eat or go potty. Then we called her “Nurse Ruff” (her name was Harley’s Ruff Lo Rider).

      Reply
  7. Scienerf–must be a characteristic of herding breeds…they don’t give up for anything!

    Reply

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