Petey sleeping on my dirty laundry while I was out of town. Now, who could deny this little bugger a kiss????

My little Peter-poo, Petey Sweetie, Peter Rabbit, Petey-pie. Oh how I love the spoiled rotten Boston Terrier that stole my heart when giant Cowboy stole his sight. Thanks to Petey-love, all the dogs get more treats, more walks, more lovin’, and more access to the coveted space inside our bedroom. Only Petey, however, gets on the bed. Only Petey gets thrice daily “love drops,” administered from a snuggly spot in my lap. Only Petey needs them, though, as Cowboy took out the nerves and the tear ducts when he took out Petey’s eye. That doesn’t keep the other dogs from wanting ย to hop up for some love drops of their own.

Petey lords the love drops over them. As 130-pound Cowboy and 70-pound Layla press against my knees, he sits up taller and puts his head on my shoulder, stretching his neck and arching it back like a giraffe. The more the other dogs covet his spot, the longer he keeps it. He’ll be lucky to keep that other eye at this rate.

Yes, he is spoiled. Petey has decided that anything in the house that can be climbed must be climbed. No amount of negative reinforcement can shake him from the joy of sneaking into the center of the dining room table to steal Susanne’s sunglasses or Allie’s mouse pad or whatever treasure they’ve left conveniently out for him to play with on that day.

More evidence of spoilage, and worse evidence at that: Petey thinks backyard ablutions are optional. He’s been known to spend an hour in the backyard only to come back in the house and tinkle on the floor.

Until last week. Softie Mama finally cracked down on the Peter Monster. Not that I hadn’t been trying for months. I have tried and tried and tried. But this week, after a five day stretch in which Petey made good potty choices, I removed the emergency pad that I had kept for months by the back door. Petey hadn’t used it either in the last five days. We decided the time was right for the momentous step.

Except that Petey had run pell mell into God knows what in the backyard the day before. He purt-near took out his good eye, too, missing it by 1/8 of an inch. He had a nasty gash and a big hard bump on his face. In retrospect, I think he felt pretty punky. Maybe he had a concussion.

Or maybe I’m just making excuses for him.

Petey tinkled on the living floor for no apparent reason.

“No,” I said in my stern-Mama voice. Petey sprinted away from me.

“Peter, come here, right now,” I commanded.

Petey peeked around the corner, read the tea leaves, and ran off again.

I sighed and crouched down in an elf squat. In a high pitched voice I said, “Oh Petey sweetie baby waby come here darling.”

Three seconds later Petey sprinted for me, butt down, and jumped into my arms, knocking me on my behind with the force of his desperate affection. He knew he was in big trouble, but he couldn’t resist the love-call.

I carried him to the spot. “Bad dog.” I didn’t see any light bulbs going off. I put his nose down near it. “Bad dog,” I repeated. Petey squirmed but showed no contrition. WOMP. I swatted his behind. Petey yelped, wailed, cried, and moaned. He’s a fairly dramatic creature. In fact, this display started before my hand met his bottom. I put him down and cleaned up. He went to my bed for a nap to sleep off the trauma.

Two hours later, Petey woke up. I didn’t hear him leave his throne. Five minutes later, though, I went to check on him. No Peter ‘pon the bed. That meant it was time to get him outside prontoย so he could make a good potty choice. I called for him. I got a big yellow dog and a medium sized brown dog, but no little black dog. I walked toward the back door.

As I got closer, the unmistakable hated smell of poo filled my nose. “Oh, Peter, what have you done?” I cried.

I got to the backdoor. No poo. I looked closer. Were thoseย little skid marks on the tile? Alas, that dog had definitely taken a you-know-whatsie on the floor.ย But where was it?

I turned around, and there was a very guilty looking Peter. Chewing.






Apparently the traumatic experience of getting in trouble had a different impact on him than I’d hoped. He wiggled his way up to me. Oh God, he was about to lick my leg!

“Back, Peter, stay back,” I pleaded.

So, was I to discipline him for making the mess? He had cleaned it up the only way he knew how. I’d actually had a dog do the same thing many years ago, and from time to time we’ll see our dogs eat dried scat when we’re out hiking. But EWWW. This dog, my Petey Pie, likes to steal kisses. Mine — on the lips. Yeah.

I went in the cupboard and found a box of treats. The package insisted that they cleaned the dog’s teeth better than brushing.

Let’s certainly hope so.

Anyone want to obedience train this little rascal?

Actually, I will have to say that he hasn’t gone in the house again since then. And the knot on his forehead stayed there for a week.

Tell me it was the concussion. ๐Ÿ™‚

What’s the worst thing one of your pets has ever done?


Published by Pamela

edit biographydelete Biography Pamela writes overly long e-mails and the What Doesn't Kill You romantic mysteries from deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX and way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY. Pamela is passionate about hiking with her hunky husband and pack of rescue dogs (and an occasional goat and donkey), riding her gigantic horses, experimenting with her Keurig, and traveling in the Bookmobile.

Join the Conversation


  1. Whoa Nellie…er, I mean Petey! Eating the pooh is almost a deal breaker for me. However, I did have a Shih Tzu (translation: little shit) poop on my one and only expensive Turkish rug. Yeah, the one I bought in Istanbul when I was 24 and stationed overseas. Yeah that one. Kinda important. I remember when it happened. I had to leave the room and let my partner take care of everything…else we may have been enjoying (?) some Shih Tzu BBQ that night.

  2. There is pills for that at Petsmart, because my big lovable mutt also ate his poo until I used the pills. Apparently whatever is in the pills makes it taste awful. LOL.
    You asked for bad pet incidents: I had a dog once who ate the siding off the house and who dug all the tile off the bathroom floor. This same dog took a dump in the living room and I used a product to get out the spot. I didn’t know the product contained bleach. The small brown spot turned into a big yellow spot. Thinking I would put a little color back into the nylon carpet, I used hair color, which then became a bigger black spot. So I used hair color remover which then became an even bigger orange spot. I felt like I was lost in a CAT IN THE HAT COMES BACK WORSE THAN EVER book.

  3. Oh, my … I have TWO terrible pet stories that involve items of great sentimental value to me…

    Story #1: Before my sweet daughter was born over 16 years ago, my sister crocheted the most beautiful white baby afghan as a gift. I wrapped my little February 8 bundle of love in it for the ride home from the hospital. For several years it hung in a place of honor on a wall-mounted quilt rack. And then I got the idea that my girl should be able to use it. I was going through a “why are we treating all these things we own like museum pieces? We should enjoy them!” phase. So I let my girl use the afghan to snuggle under while watching Veggie Tales videos. Eventually it needed to be washed and I told her to put it in the laundry room. One of our border collie/labrador mix puppies managed to get it out of the laundry hamper and chew holes in it. I don’t know that I’ve ever cried so hard, especially when my sister inspected it and said that there was no way to repair it. Hopefully you won’t think we’re terrible, but those dogs were NOT a good fit for our family (very destructive) and we ended up finding a new home for them.

    Story #2: When I was pregnant with my girl, my dad built me a Shaker style rocking chair. I love that rocker and spent many hours with my baby girl, rocking away. In the summer of 2006, our golden retriever was just two months shy of being a year old. We were involved in a community theater production that summer and since my husband had to get up early for work each day, we always took separate cars to the theater. I stayed late to work on the set and got home about midnight. My guy had forgotten to put Hurley in her crate when he went to bed, and she had spent a good two hours’ turning one of the rockers on my chair into wood chips and sawdust. It may have been midnight, but my guy did NOT stay asleep that night. I was furious! (With him AND the dog.) Fortunately, the company that manufactured the kit my dad used was able to send us the piece the dog destroyed, stained to match a chip I mailed them. And my husband was able to repair it.

    Hurley is much cuter and sweeter than the dogs referred to in Story #1. She survived that night and still lives with us today. ๐Ÿ™‚

    1. My birthday is Feb 8 btw, and I don’t think you’re terrible. Destructive is HARD to deal with. I am sad with you about the baby blanket, but I’m glad Hurley survived and that you were able to repair the rocker! Dogs. Dogs. Dogs.

  4. I love dogs. Other peoples’. ๐Ÿ™‚ I was too young to remember stuff our dog did when we had a couple. I do remember riding on his back though. We called him Caesar. (naturally).

    Pamela, but I so enjoyed reading this. ๐Ÿ˜€ And I got worried to death about the poo-eating. I once saw a baby all messed up the moment her Mom removed her diaper, and before she could say “oh shit” the baby had dipped her fingers in the spot around her wee batuti and had the hand a hairline away from her mouth when her Mom yelled and the baby burst out crying in shock, forgetting to taste ๐Ÿ˜€ Yuck! I would remember that!

    But I do remember when Vidur (children are pets, too, eh?) was about six months old – and Sury was home for lunch. Looo-ooo-ng extended lunch to hang around the baby. He would cleverly ask anyone who wanted to visit to drop by at 1.30 pm – so I could deal with them and he could enjoy himself with Vidur. On one such occasion, Vidur had pooped. Don’t ask why he did not have a diaper on. But hey, there was the nice bed cover, clothes I had folded and stacked nearby, to go into the basket (I know I should’ve put them in the basket right away), and a book I was reading. I know, bad Mom. When the visitor left, I came back into the bedroom coochie-cooing to Vidur and what do I see? Poo-ooo-oooo-P. Everywhere. Sury’s trousers were streaked with it. He didn’t even realize. Luckily it was only in Vidur’s nether regions. But the two were having a whale of a time. ๐Ÿ˜€ I am not ashamed to say I took a picture of Vidur with the poop.

    Shoo me away now! Hehehe. Eric, are you smirking?

    1. LOL, I love your Vidur story! OMG, you must have been cleaning forEVER! And it is always funny when it is our babies. Less funny when you are sitting on an airplane and it is the strangers’ baby beside you…I had C&S with me on a plane when C was 2 and S was 3 mo. S diaper leaked, and baby pooo ran down her leg and onto me. I think the man next to us was permanently scarred by the experience.

  5. We once had two black lab mixes – litter mates, sisters. They ate their own poo. And each other’s. I pleaded with the vet for help, but he just told me that mama dog does it for the litter of pups to keep the bed clean and some pick up the habit and never outgrow it. I wasn’t sure I believed him, I just knew it was the most disgusting thing I’d ever witnessed. They were mostly outside dogs, but we’d let them in for a few hours in the evenings, before they retired to their hand made, elevated, insulatated beds in the garage (no, not spoiled at all). So the one dog comes in one night and promptly throws up all over the carpeted floor. Yeah, she barfed up poo that she had eaten. So Hubs grabs the shop vac and tons of water and starts cleaning it up. The shop vac never stopped smelling like poo. Ever.

    I rarely tell that story. Okay, never. It’s so awful. You caught me at a weak moment ๐Ÿ™‚

    1. OMG, I love it. The shop vac was ruined. It’s amazing how the smell permeates. It becomes even less funny over time….

      I had heard that about mama dogs. I don’t want to believe it tho.

      Can you imagine? I’m mentally extrapolating to humans. OH MY.

  6. Maybe it is the spoiled part of Peter that got him into that act. I guess that you will probably end up reprimanding and cooing him at the same time, no matter how crazy his acts are.

  7. I can’t help but laugh, because i recall you saying that Eric was going to have to “mop, mop, mop~!” before you got back from Chicago. My take is that it really didn’t matter….
    I can just imagine what Cowboy and Layla must have been thinking….

  8. There is a powder you can buy to sprinkle in their food to make their poop taste badly. I had a poop-eating dog a long time ago. The powder didn’t work very well, though. I think you have to make them eat a LOT of it.

    Our dog loves to eat rabbit poop, but fortunately we haven’t seen many rabbits around lately. I think the foxes must be getting them. Somehow, eating bunny poop seems more tolerable than the other.

    who knows what goes on in their heads?!?!!?

    1. This little guy is funny, very smart, and if he doesn’t get a lot of play and exercise time, very destructive. I honestly have NO idea what goes through is head. Love him though ๐Ÿ™‚

  9. Ewwwyy cutie doggie. The other dogs might be thinking ‘Now, you want to be spoiled, huh?’. Ha ha!

  10. That sounds really terrible, but there is a treatment for that. Don’t worry about your little puppy, you onle have to take him to the animal rescue and give him the pills.

  11. Just remember that when dogs eat their own (not to be confused with cats) feces, it’s usually a vitamin deficency.
    And the additives work, they’ll keep him from doing such things.

    Sounds like your little man is in desperate need of some direction from you-his Pack leader. Right now it sounds like he runs the show, and really, contrary to popular belief, they’re not comfortable with that. A good obedience class would probably do the trick and help to settle down his obnoxious behavior.Do you walk them much?

    Glad he seems ok after the knot on his head:)

    1. Tracy: We run with them, and he loves it so much that he brings me my running shoes ๐Ÿ™‚ but we 100% know that this little bugger demands a LOT of attention, or he gets destructive. I definitely am going to take him to an obedience class. I think he’d love it. I’ve worked with him at home, but I just don’t thin it is enough. He is SMART SMART SMART.

  12. Eons ago I had a huge dog that loved watermelon. There was a patch in the back yard and when it was time to pick the melons, all that was left were big beautiful EMPTY melon shells. He’d punched a hole (with his big paw) in each melon, eaten out as much of the inside as he could get to, then gone on to the next one. Then again, the *ahem* best thing he ever got into the habit of doing… I can’t believe I am going to say this… is to clip the (ex) monster-in-law behind the knees everytime he caught her outside. So yes, I forgave the melon incident. Does that make me bad? WHO CARES? She did so live up to the name. I will deny this if anyone asks.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *