After thinking long and hard about a response, I chose what I felt to be one of the more innocuous of my experiences, and described it in just 2 words.
Wandering Pee.
Well, of course, this was just too tantalizing for the man who spent 166 words describing avian defecation of a vehicular target, and he has requested that I explain myself. Ok. Here goes:
Our Black Lab, Seamus, lived to be about 15 years old. As a large breed dog, this is very old - much like a human living to be 105. By the end of his life he had cataracts, was going deaf, suffered from arthritis and mild dementia, and grew incontinent.Can I just say that dementia and incontinence do not mix? Seamus managed to avoid the big puddles while sleeping. And he generally had an accident only a couple times a week. But when he did - oy. I am not sure whether he didn't realize he was urinating, or if he thought he was outside. But whichever it was, he would wander aimlessly around the house, leaving a trail a blind bloodhound with a severe sinus infection could follow. We called them his "Wandering Pees." You could track where in the house he had walked by the trail he left.
And he really didn't seem to realize what he was doing. If we caught him doing it, we could take him outside where he would squat (being to old to lift his leg) and finish his elimination. Then we would have to clean up. We used an enzymatic cleaner to remove the stain and - more importantly - the smell. But this was no puddle. This was a thin stream that stretched once, and sometimes twice around the entire house.
By the time I was done spraying the spots, I was hunched over like Quasimodo and my hand was cramped into a stiff claw-like imitation of a hand.
Now, having described the infamous wandering pees, and the dangers of mixing dementia and incontinence, I leave you with the following visual:
Wandering Poo.
'Nuff said.
Celebrity Impressionist, Singer, Comedian and Ventriloquist extraordinaire 
