Pissing contest
Warning: Penelope has launched a borough-wide whiz-bang war against unknown (and possibly imaginary) foes. No fence, grass-patch, fire hydrant, trash bag, flower or front step is safe from her all-consuming pheromone-spritzing effort. She periodically insists on making rounds around various neighborhoods to gather information and assess the enemy’s (enemies’??!) progress.
As a General in her ruthless tinkle army, she often (pretends to) consults me (she’s a political animal and she knows better than to completely snub her second-in-command). Sniffing a suspicious blade of grass or hydrangea bush, Penelope will turn her laser-like attention to my pallid, unworthy visage.
She doesn’t need me to tell her that her pee pee’s in charge.
