I can’t explain it. I’m so embarrassed. Sometimes I just feel the need to leave my mark in the house.
When I first arrived at Asherpark I marked dozens of times. Every corner of the couch, bed, and table. Along the walls in the hallway. The little table in the living room. The duvet cover. The toilet. The washing machine, refrigerator, even the kitchen shelves.
Mom was beside herself with frustration. Ash was fascinated. It had never occurred to Ash to pee in the house. Soon we were like two guys at a urinal, pissing and joking.
I knew it was forbidden to mark in the house, so I never let mom see me. Poor Ash wasn’t as careful and one day mom caught him in the act. Oh boy, did he ever get a talking to. That was the last time Ash ever left his mark in the house.
I’d like to say that I stopped my stealth marking but that would be a lie. Mom says I’ve reduced my bad behavior by 95%, but a couple of times a week she finds the tell tale sign. At least I limit my marks to the corners of the couch. Mom says it’s easy to clean up and she is sure to see it.
I hid my head in shame a couple of weeks ago when mom brought out the upholstery cleaner. Even I could see the water was bright yellow from where she cleaned the corners of the couch. Everyone could smell the urine. I just closed my eyes and pretended I didn’t notice.
Ash didn’t mean me any harm, but he kept pointing out how funny the couch smelled when mom started cleaning. Even little Nellie knew something was up. She couldn’t hear the cleaning machine but she sure could smell the piss water. She’s so naive. She asked mom where the stink came from. She’s too blind and slow to ever notice me marking.
Tess said maybe I need to go to some kind of pee therapy. Ash thought that might help and volunteered to go with me. I know it won’t help. You gotta want to change your ways and I’m not there yet. Maybe it’s that little nagging anxiety, wondering if I really will get to live out my life at Asherpark. Or maybe I grew up in some kinda low class home where pissing on the furniture was okay. I don’t know.
I feel bad for the extra work I cause mom, but not bad enough to stop marking. Dad says it’s my only flaw. Mom says I’m a scoundrel, but then she rubs my big head and tells me she loves me. Ash says we all have flaws – mine just happens to be poor bathroom habits. And so it is.