Yesterday at puppy kindergarten, I was shamed into thinking I was being a bad puppy mama.
“Your little ones should never have free run of the house,” one instructor solemnly said. “There’s just too many things they can get into. It will increase the likelihood they will do something wrong and you won’t be there to correct them.”
We went around and stated our main goals for the class. Mine? Learning the word “no”. I’d settle with that essential and proudly wear a smile with success.
And then we talked potty training. Oooh. Sore subject. How many others can say they had one super potty trained lady who fell off the wagon after some two weeks of success?
They got to me. “Well, she used to be *really* good about the pads. She’d use them all day long.” Everyone was noding, almost in awe that my little caramel tipped pup was the specimen of perfection.
“But… then she learned she could shred the pee pads, and they’ve been a toy ever since the day I came home to small clumps of white fuzz from one end of the apartment to the other. I even bought a new pee pad holder with a grate so she could use the pads without being able to shred them, but she has no interest in the pads when the white plastic lattice is involved.”
“Do you have her confined to one area?” they asked me.
Seriously? Must we go back there.
“Well, no… I tried, but she could hurdle all of the gates I got.”
They nodded. “Lots of the little ones are good at that. You just need to get yourself an extra tall gate. That should do it. Confining her to an area like that will make all of the difference.”
Hmmmm. I left class pretty revved up from class. I felt like I had a purpose. And after seeing some of her hellion classmates, my problems with Dixie seemed much more trivial. I was feeling pretty good.
After a fantastic brunch at Garage, I happened upon a puppy store in the Village. Perfect! They had an extra tall gate, perfect for cornering Dixie and aiding in the training process. I even picked up these beef jerky squares that the trainers were using. One jokingly called it “doggie crack” and I could see why. It smelled pretty darn tasty to me…
Anyhow, I was pretty excited to try to set the gate up in my apartment last night. Dixie was wimpering, knowing what the metal lattice ultimately meant to her. So this morning, I took her out for a walk, as they had suggested. She was pretty darn content with life.
I came back and later began to gather up her toys and bedding and such in the area outside the bathroom and closet – the space which was to serve as her confined area. I held her as I did this, so her tail just kept wagging. I then pulled up the gate just as I was getting ready to head out. I put her over and she ran over to her food bowl, momentarily unaware that I had pulled the gate in place behind her.
YAP! YAP! YAP YAP YAP YAAAAP!
The yap chorus began. I paused. Oh no. This little four pound bundle is not going to win. I grabbed my stuff, told her a quick goodbye, and locked the door.
I was curious. Intrigued. I couldn’t resist. I unlocked my two locks and peeped in, just as a black and brown blur came bounding out, proceeding to run laps up and down my floor’s hallway.
I finally caught her and carried her back in. I pulled down the shiny new gate – no use in causing her to potentially hurt herself.
17.5″ original gate? Hurdle – no prob
20″ futon? Piece of cake.
30″ bed? Takes some backwards scooting, but got it.
31.5″ EXTRA TALL gate (with limited scooting space? Now conquered.
I did conjure up plan what are we on now? D? E? Anyhow, tomorrow I’m stacking the 17.5″ gate and 31.5″ gate. That’s 49″ of wall to scale. Over 4 feet! If she does it, I think I give up.
And yes, I’m thankful I still have the receipt for last night’s purchase. Just in case…
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