ONE MORNING I AWOKE ON A WET SPOT in our bed. “What the hell is this?” I asked you as I pulled your hand, dragging it over the spot.
“I dunno.” You mumbled. “Smell it.”
“Why don’t you smell it?”
“Just smell it.”
“It doesn’t really smell. But it’s not a leak.”
“Must be from Linus.” Our Toy Fox Terrier’s urine soaked through our high-thread-count sheets, staining our new king size mattress.
“Bad. Bad boy.” I scolded, as I looked Linus in the eye. He ran into his crate, whimpering, his tail between his legs. He wouldn’t lift his head all day. “I just can’t believe he peed in the bed.”
“Yeah, I’d help you clean, but I have to study up for tomorrow.”
So I got on my knees, stripped the bed, did laundry, and scrubbed Oxy Clean into our bed for well over an hour.
“Steph?” You summoned from the living room hours later.
“Commeer.” Textbooks and note cards were strewn on our sofa, and when you spoke to me, you twirled your yellow highlighter. “I had a dream last night that I peed in the bed.” A smile escaped from your mouth, as though you were a child telling your mother you’d broken the living room vase you were warned never to touch.
I wanted to kill you. I’d been scrubbing your urine from our bed on my Sunday while you watched a football game pretending to work. “Well guess what?” I asked as I climbed on your lap. “You’re never, ever, living this down.” And I smiled, kissing you, as tears filled my eyes. I was so in love.