After several lines of urine...

Yeah, that's not a great title, but for this entry, it makes perfect sense.

So, Shane got rid of the dog we were taking care of on Sunday night. There's something about a dog peeing on my carpet and the couch (I was visiting my parents, mind you) that made him want to kick the thing past the New Year. This was, of course, the last straw for Shane who then called the owner's son and told him he was bringing the dog over. Some hasty minutes of cleaning later and the dog was back at home, to soil himself several times over despite being taken for a walk only an hour earlier.

Someone responded to this story by saying, "aww, poor dog." Yes, exactly! Poor dog who we cared for and were nice to, holding in our anger after it peed on the floor for the third, forth, and fifth times. Another person told us to stick the dog's nose in the pee and say no. Mind you, I neglected to say that after nearly every time the dog peed in the house I would do this, to no avail. Plain and simply, the dog didn't like staying with us. He didn't like it, and he was being quite vocal without having to - I mentioned that he barked a lot right? I mean, a lot - actually say anything. For this, I hope I never see that dog in our apartment again; for if I do, and it pees, some four-year old and her father will be wishing on a shooting dog in the night sky.