My neighbour Margaret finds the fact that Winkle wees on her floor to be extremely amusing. I must say the joke is wearing very thin for me. True, Winkle's wee problem is starting to wane but just when I allow myself to think she's a big girl now and all house trained she's at it again. It could be Margaret's floor or like today in the bed in the guest room. It is rather unfortunate that the guest had only left the bed for a minute to visit the bathroom at the time. I console myself that the room is presently "home" to a teen friend of my son we took in because he was facing a temporary accommodation crisis. At least it wasn't a judge from Home Beautiful or a dog obedience trainer or something. Truth is I sometimes forget the little Miss is called Winkle as I more commonly refer to her as Whizzy or Whizzer on account of her toilet issues. And I wonder why she hasn't outgrown it what with all that pressure. And to think no-one actually forces you to have dogs. The additional work (and expense) is absolutely a lifestyle choice. Well, officially it's a choice but for me there's no choice at all. For all the wet spots and chewed shoes there are a million laughs and when when the fur friends curl up together or on my pillow my heart melts and the fact that the carpet smells like a public bar minus the beer is quickly forgotten.
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