Murphy's Law

Aw, look at the cute dog that stayed with us for an afternoon. Look how shy. Look how timid. Look how he knows his "sit," and "down," and "shake" commands!

We were having a wonderful time with Murphy yesterday afternoon.

Catch the "were" in there?

Mike left around 4 p.m. to meet a friend and watch the Penn State game, and I stayed with Murphy to wait for his owner, Drew. Just as I received a text message that Drew was on his way, Murphy walked into the living room, in front of the tv, and started to pee. And pee, and pee, and pee.

I screamed. I shouted. I grabbed his collar and yanked. He planted his feet. He pulled his head back. He never stopped peeing.

I jump into clean up mode, soaking up with towels, and getting cleaner to scrub the carpet. I'm going back and forth from the kitchen to the living room with a fresh cleaning mix or a fresh bucket of clean water, and every time I came back into the living room, Murphy had jumped up on the couch!

I kept pulling him off and disciplining him with a "no!" and tap on the nose (you all know I've got no problem disciplining dogs, even those that aren't mine), and yet he kept jumping up on the couch.

Who was this dog? What happened to the timid, shy, sweet one that had been in my house for four hours?

Just as I finished the clean up, Drew arrived. Without any sadness, I said goodbye to Murphy.

Of course, I was a little high strung at this point. I would normally have opened a bottle of wine to relax from Murphy's, um, visit. But I was driving to a party two hours later, and didn't want to start down that slippery slope.

So I did what any girl robbed of her opportunity for wine but still needing relaxation did. I went for an emergency mani-pedi.

I can sincerely say that if Murphy's visit was indeed Mike's grand plan to convince me to get another dog, it failed miserably.