Dear Puppies: Bathroom Time Trauma
Dear Reagan,
Sometimes when I have you out in the front yard waiting for what seems like hours of debating where you would like to do your business, I’m just in awe at how you can pop a squat anywhere, no matter who is watching, without a care in the world. I wish I could do that. Well, not me, but humanity. Well, not really that either… Think of how disgusting that would be! But still, I would probably not be on Prozac if I didn’t have all of the stresses that come along with going to the bathroom.
Think about it: before I knew better I didn’t think anything of it. When I had to go I would just crawl to my special place under the kitchen table and fill my diaper. When I had to pee a couple years later and my mom was taking too long to answer my cries of needing to go I just pulled my pants down right in the middle of Ken’s Pizza.
But that was before the proper rules of bathroom etiquette were conditioned into my mind, ruining the rest of my life: Continue reading
If This Couch Could Talk 