A Private Moment

"So," my vet said to me, "We need a urine sample from him." And handed me a small saucer.

Bewildered, I took the saucer and led Josh outside. He lifted his leg and I dashed to put the saucer under his belly. He immediately lowered his leg and looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. I muttered an apology and we resumed walking. We came to a post, he stopped, sniffed, looked around and raised his leg. Again, I quickly knelt and put the saucer under his belly. Again, he immediately lowered his leg and turned to look at me with a withering glare. "It's not my fault." I told him, "You have to do this." He gave a vigorous head to tail shake and started across the parking lot to the grass. On the third try, he looked at me over his shoulder, daring me to try and assault his dignity again and then cautiously raised his leg. Moving slowly, I inched the saucer under him. He lowered his leg and sat down. I scratched his ears, rubbed his back, told him what a fine dog he was. By that time, a crowd had begun to collect in the parking lot and I began to wonder if they were taking sides. "You think this is beneath your dignity?" I demanded of him, "What about mine?" He looked at me, looked at the audience, and woofed softly but there was menace underneath. Someone laughed and he whipped his head around with a warning growl. I all but dragged him around the corner to another grassy area and gave him some slack on his leash. He walked slowly, nose to the ground for several minutes, then stopped. I pretended not to notice and finally he raised his leg. I held my breath, continued to pretend I was paying no attention, and when the moment was right, I slid the saucer under his belly. With immense indifference and small dog grace, he finally decided to pretend I wasn't there.

We called it a draw.