Dachshunds!
The first really cold night this week we were hunkered down in the living room, watching something or other on TV, when Simon suddenly hopped down from the sofa, walked over to the piano and lifted his leg, letting flow a mighty stream. Yes, he peed on the piano leg in the living room. Mary shouted an obscenity at him (she was closest), grabbed him and hauled him to the kitchen door, and pushed him out into the bone-chilling overnight.
Schuster seems to have learned where to do "it" in under a year, with the help of "pet pads." Simon, in almost 5 years, may have learned where to do "it," but the willful little dog obviously chose not to act on that knowledge, either that, or he has acquired an early onset of doggie Alzheimer's. In any case he is not telling, and since then, we are watching him closely and making him go out regularly. I go along to make certain he actually gets off the deck and does something "meaningful" while he is out there.
The minute the yelling began that night, Frollie and Dexter started slinking toward the door with their tails tucked between their legs. Not Simon. "What? Who me? I did something wrong?"
Dachshunds!