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Rated: ASR · Essay · Animal · #2104584
A tale of a dog
Michelle Grant
Professor Wells
20 October 2016
Two Inches to the Left

         8:00 a.m., my melodic alarm sings me awake. I lie there in limbo still resting. 8:01 a.m., Luci noses her pungent way into my waking conscious. This marks the official start of my day.
         "Luci.No.Stopit." I don't want to wake my boyfriend Vince, so I try to be quiet.
She slams her tail gaily and unawares into everything it can reach, causing a noisy stir. She just wants to go outside. I open the door silently while she crashes to the pavement in a rush to get out, but instead of closing the door behind her as I habitually do, I wait.
         I watch her glossy black and brown fur as she trashes and runs. She is a beautiful dog, but is plagued by stupidity. Luci is fifty pounds of muscle and stink, and controls herself like a new born fawn. She clops over to the edge of the patio, making me think she's actually going to make it to the rocks this time. Then, as per usual, she urinates all over the patio. Two inches to the left is all she needs to make it to the rocks.
         As she pees, I raise the pink spray bottle she has become accustomed to seeing and fearing. We make eye contact. I spray.
"Damnit Luci!"
         She dribbles and shakes toward the rocks and tries to slink indoors.
She gets to stay outside.
         No matter where we live, no matter how much concrete there is, she will always pee on it. She usually spots around the edge, but there are days where she feels especially rebellious, and on these days she goes for the center. It has become a real issue. The back yard smells like a rest stop bathroom in mid-July thanks to Luci's unfortunate habit. Much of our weekends we spend cleaning the urine off the patio.
         Because of her profound daftness this habit of hers is impossible to break.
         The things we have tried to do in order to stop this habit are ridiculous and costly. Sprays have been bought and fences were erected in order to physically curb her, she didn't care. Many training tactics were used. Whistles and clickers were purchased, no reaction. The spray bottle has been used, hateful words were said loudly by Vince and I, nothing makes a difference.
         "Maybe the rocks hurt her feet, I'll give her socks"
         They don't... and she peed on those too.
         There are times I feel as though she knows what she's doing and trying to make a statement, but the thoughtless look she gives me after a firm scolding indicates otherwise.
The only option I can see working is to re potty-train her. Luci is over two, and fairly set in her ways, but this seems to be our only hope. Re-training will be very time consuming, and everyone will have to be on board, including our other roommates, Sean and Zoey. This means that every time anyone takes her out to go potty, she must be leashed and brought well into the graveled area and watched until she is done, and brought right back in. Consequently, it also means no more outside play time with the other dog Balto, because she will just use that unmonitored time to pee on the concrete. If only Balto would teach poor Luci.
         The reason we got an older dog was to avoid this whole potty-training debacle, but we still fell into its odorous and wet trap. Regardless, the love she brings into our little family is insurmountable.
Luci is dumb.
Luci is smelly.
Luci doesn't listen.
Luci is loved, and her cuddles are worth the extra trouble.


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