Spot On, Pissed Off

A few weeks ago, I noticed what looked kind of like a pee spot on the dresser where we keep bed linens. On Friday I finally investigated more closely and found yes, it was urine, and cleaned it up.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon: Mike comes upstairs to vacuum. I moved a couple of things on the floor so he could maneuver better. That's when I noticed a chess board leaning against the room divider we use to hide the washer/dryer had streaks on it--like it had been peed on from above and the liquid ran down and pooled at the bottom. Sure enough!

I start looking around the upstairs and find that Luther has apparently been relieving himself all.over.the.upstairs. Pee tracks on the washer, with more pee dried in the drawer under the washer and tray that the washer sits in. Pee stains on my filing cabinet, the bottom of one of Mike's bookshelves, and one a handful of books. Pee stains on the faux bricks underneath the cast iron stove/gas log heater. More pee by the stereo and evidence of pee on our collection of records, still trussed in plastic wrap from the move. And loads of dried pee under the AC unit, where the plastic face/filter from the defunct AC unit was resting against the wall. The favorite spot, I guess. I ran out of Nature's Miracle before I was able to treat them all.

Six peed-on spots--that we know of. And Friday, I discovered one of the dogs had SHAT in the living room after my morning workout and before I came downstairs for lunch. Again, probably Luther since I saw him sniffing the area and there's a size differential between his and Libby's, um, output.

WTF?!?

I'm flabbergasted. Not only at how much pee there was to clean up, but also at how long this appears to have been happening.

I was kinda freaking out and voiced my frustration and exasperation to Mike when apparently he doesn't like my tone and said so. I go to wash my hands and he tells me to come back to where he is. Since this sounds more like an order than an invitation, I say I'm going to go wash THE URINE off my hands. This gets me another "I don't like how you're talking to me." Mike repeats this after everything I say until I finally stop talking.

When I come out of the bathroom, he's sitting on the futon. I sit by him and say, "I'm sorry. What was it you wanted to tell me?" He mumbles something. I asked for a repeat. "I don't remember what it was now," he said slightly more audibly. I sat there for a couple of minutes waiting to see if he'd remember or elaborate. Nada. So I walked over to my desk and Googled "why is my dog peeing in the house?"

Even housebroken dogs can start peeing in the house--out of distress or insecurity. One site I read said that bringing a new dog into the home can cause the other dog to start marking territory--just to prove that the turf is REALLY HIS, despite the interloper.

We got Libby in March...so that's about one pee spot a month--IF we've found them all. I'm almost scared to investigate further downstairs.

To be really effective at deterring, you have to catch the dog in the act. Yeah, RIGHT. I was working from home Friday and didn't "catch" Luther shitting in the house; how are we supposed to do that when we have JOBS and can't be at home 24/7 to monitor toileting?

Anyway, Mike went out and bought a couple of big jugs of Nature's Miracle. I thanked him, but he's still not verbally interacting with me. So after liberally sploshing NM over the known trouble spots and blogging about the whole, ever-growing mess, I MAY venture downstairs to see if I've been forgiven or not.