Do I look like a fire hydrant to you?

It happened again.  I thought my curse was lifted.  I thought it was all behind me.
 

I was wrong.
 

A long time ago, back when Wikket was a pup, I went through a period of being irresistible to male dogs.  I know what you’re thinking.  Get your mind out of the gutter.
 

No, this was worse than having them try to impregnate my leg.  Having male dogs find me sexy I can handle.  You just tell them that “No means no” and they eventually get the point.
 

They liked to pee on me.  You can stop laughing any time now.
 

I’d be standing in the dog park, minding my own business, talking to other dog owners, ducking the occasional mis-thrown tennis ball, when without warning, dogs that otherwise interacted with me perfectly normally (wag, wag, “throw the ball, dammnit!”), would trot up to me, pause as if wanting a pat, and then lift their legs and let fly.
 

This happened every day for about six months!  Labs, border collies, Goldens, Yorkies, it made no difference.  They all loved me. 
 

The Great Dane was hands-down the worst, though.  I’ll spare you the details; your imaginations are probably working just fine.
 

People were universally Shocked and Appalled when their dogs whizzed by and I lost count of the number of times I heard “He’s never done that before!” or, if it was a repeat offender, “What, again?”
 

I became very good at twisting out of the way at the last second.
 

Then it stopped.  I was no longer interesting to the boys in that way.  We stayed friends though.
 

This evening, it happened again.  Moss, my boy, the dog rescued from Yarmouth, the effervescent coil of springs and good humour, this evening dropped his ball in my lap, stuck his head under my arm for a cuddle, got one, jumped down and PEED ON MY LEG!
 

Anybody know how to exorcise this sort of thing?