. . (Sunday, August 16, just after midnight) MACK: The gnats are chewing at us. But if I close the window, we’ll roast. Thirty-odd hours in the bathroom. We’re staring at each other. Boo licks my face with his extra-long tongue. It hangs out of his mouth three inches when he sleeps. He pees on the side of the toilet. I’m mopping up the mess with newspaper when I suddenly understand what he needs. I’m an idiot. How could it take me this long to figure it out? I take the wet paper and lay it around the shower drain and lead Boo into the stall. He smells his mark in the paper and starts to pee on it. I give this blessed dog a quarter pound of boloney dunked in peanut butter. I’m howling and hugging him. We’re running around the training center. I get him full of water again. “Boo, pee.” He gives me paw. “Nuh-uh. Pee.” I lead him into the stall. He smells himself in the newspaper and lets loose over the drain again, and again I feed him boloney and praise. “Good pee.
