The other night, I had to pee. Nothing unusual there. Everybody pees. So why am I writing about a typical trip to the bathroom? Because Zoe, that’s why.
Before I get into it, you should be aware of three things:
1. I’m a guy.
2. I pee standing up because guy stuff.
3. Guys may have the advantage of peeing while standing, but in exchange for this benefit, it hurts to stop mid-stream.
As I stand over the commode relieving myself, Zoe skitterhops* playfully into the bathroom behind me. She is immediately curious as to why I am standing in front of her giant water bowl so she stands on her hind legs to peers over the lip of the toilet.
“Zoe, go away,” I say. Yes, that was stupid. I know she is deaf, but habits are hard to break. When you yell at one cat, you just seem to yell at all of them.
Instead of skitterhopping away, she tilted her head to express curiosity.
“Zoe. No.” I squeal as I notice the mischief in her posture.
Suddenly, Zoe is batting at the urine stream with her left paw. Pee is splashing onto my legs, against the lip of the bowl, onto the floor; there’s mass hysteria in my brain as it begins an emergency shutdown protocol thinking of all the germs being tossed about carelessly like confetti.
Peeing on her to make her stop seemed too cruel, so caught in a battle of completing my urination while preventing Zoe from treating my tee tee like a carnival game, I gently push her away with my right foot while keeping the stream aimed into the toilet. This isn’t easy as I stagger, causing the pee stream to waver as if shooting from a wild, unmanned fire hose. My obscenities literally fall on her deaf ears as she continues to stretch for her new play toy.
Once safely out of reach, I begin to see Zoe lose interest in being in the bathroom and a horrifying thought comes to mind: the little turd is about to track my pee all through the house. Like a suspense movie, life suddenly moved in slow motion. I had a small window of time to quarantine a potential pee-germ outbreak yet was preoccupied with the important task of urination. I felt helpless as I watched Zoe step closer and closer to the bathroom door, leaving behind a wet, paw-print trail on the tile floor.
In an effort to empty my bladder faster, I squeezed my lower stomach muscles so hard, I am surprised my bladder didn’t pop out my pee hole. With just a step away from her escape, I refrain from my usual shake-off, popped my pecker back in my pants, and scooped Zoe into my arms before she could escape.
She was fussy while I washed her paw with soap and water, wiggling around like a contemptuous child as I scrubbed her contaminated paw under a stream of warm water, but I didn’t care. I was focused on sanitation.
So let this be a lesson, guys. Keep the bathroom door closed if you pee standing up…no matter how much they beg.