Sitting on the toilet with the bathroom door closed, I’m doing what must be done when I hear a thump on the other side of the door. It’s the soft thump of a Labrador nose bump as the door is pushed aside and Fleegle ambles in, his tail wagging at the sight of me sitting close to his level.

“What? Is there no privacy in this house?” I ask.

He gets his face in my face, then rubs his side against my knees like he’s an oversized cat. “No, Raud. You need constant supervision. It’s the least I can do in return for all the supervision you’ve given me.” He turns around and rubs his other side against my knees. “Should I fetch you a baggy? One of those biodegradable ones?” he says and sits on the bathmat facing me and stares. “Have you ever considered getting a Squatty Potty? The people inside the radio swear by it. There’s one lady who loves hers so much she says she can’t live without it.”

“A what? Why don’t you go lie down in the other room?”

“Are you having trouble doing two things at once? I don’t like to talk while I go either. I need to focus when I go, that and find the perfect spot. A Squatty Potty might help with that.”

“Fleegle, go in the other room.”

“You should think about getting one. It must be nice for that lady to love something so much she can’t live without it. Do you think she takes it to work with her in her handbag? That must be one big handbag. I bet when her coworkers at work see her arrive, they go, ‘Hey, there’s Mable with her Squatty Potty, I can’t wait to borrow it.’ Or maybe she leaves it at home so she won’t have to share it. Is a Squatty Potty too personal to share? I share everything so I wouldn’t know.”

I look over at the bathroom window and tilt my head to the side. “Is that a squirrel I hear?”

Fleegle tears out of the bathroom, down the hall and out through his dog door.

What the hell is a Squatty Potty anyway? I wonder as I realize I’ll have to Google it to find out.

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