I pay attention to where my dog goes pee.

Dogs have a discriminating way of relieving themselves that I find utterly fascinating.

My grandmother says the dog is "reading his stories" and is writing back like he's participating in some highly advanced K9 instant messaging system or interactive message board. But if they're really communicating with one another by way of whizz, what are they talking about with their piddle?

"Dude, I saw this totally hot maltese walking through the West Bank park Thursday night."
"Yeah man, I saw her too! I left her a message on the rose bed and she said her name's Begonia."
"You little horn dog! Are you gonna give her some sweet puppy love?"
"Here's hoping she likes doggy style!"

Everyone knows that dogs and cats urinate on something to mark their territory which makes dog's urination habits like a giant game of doggy Monopoly where every Bowser, Bingo and Bruiser is trying to score the next high value piece of peeing property whilst either trying to balance on three legs or not accidentally hit their back paw. The way things are look from my perspective, the hound I live with owns half of my neighborhood.

"Hey ass licker! You took my electric box!"
"Alright, I'll trade your electric box for the fence post over on Frobassher Drive."
"Are you kidding me? What kind of trade is that? Go to the pound, go directly to the pound, do not cross the street or collect any of your dog treats."
"Son of a bitch."
"You leave my mother out of this."

If you think a human game of Monopoly takes days, imagine what Doggy-opoly must be like considering a dog only has a chance to roll the dice two or three times a day. And if that's the case, it's no wonder dogs spend the time between eating, sleeping and pooping staring out window making sure some other flea bag doesn't come along and claim the front yard as their own. Dogs must live in a constant state of paranoia.

"Did you hear about Snuggles? She was messing around with that mutt Banjo and got herself knocked up."
"Really? Are you kidding? That little mutt slut. How many is she going to have?"
"I have no idea. She hasn't started to show yet but she's definitely gaining some serious weight around her tail."

The K9 gossip wheel must be the most advanced rumour mill in all of the animal kingdom. The fear I have, and that you should share, is that we can never know what exactly man's best friend is saying about us when they're cavorting through their piddle party with their friends.

"Yeah so, yesterday my master - what a douchebag - wouldn't give me a chunk out of his sirloin so I waited 'til he was asleep and I went and lifted my leg right into his hikers; he probably won't even notice it until next week when he drags me out to that freakin' hill and makes me run four freakin' miles. That'll show him who's really running things."

There's a good chance that my buddy Riley here could be a tail chasing, bad ass Trump of the dog-world and I wouldn't even know it. Though, if he ever makes it big and dogs become the dominant species on the planet due to their obviously advanced secrecy in their communication skills - I hope he remembers who slipped him the extra treat today after his afternoon walk.