Out there peeing just as she thought he'd be. He pees on a fence like a painter, watches the results run oily down the planks. On the sidewalk he pops it out again, aims at the gritty ground, creates a dark continent. Steam rises like old fingers up his nose. He pees again on a tree, making no visible difference at all.
Trees are nature's absorbent urinals.
He knows a short cut to the pet store. The only problem is that he must pass through the Fuller's driveway, and they have that big chained up dog to contend with. Restrained with a heavy bolt of rope, it can pull the house when aroused. Tonight though, the Mastiff lays sick and silent, pays him no attention. It is like a postponed nightmare.