Many years ago a man by the name of Bob moved to where I grew up from Tennessee and he had (and still does) a very heavy southern accent. He lived not far out of town and he was friends with my dad. One day Bob was out in his road and dad pulled over to shoot the bull with Bob and they passed a bottle back and forth and even I was allowed a sip or two.
Dad asked Bob how things were going and Bob started telling dad about his trouble house breaking this new pup he had. Bob said---
"I keep put'n payypers down but that little critter, he still piddles on the flur".