timothy j. lambert

Whenever I write a post about my foster dogs, I always want to paint a rosy picture in case someone local stumbles upon the entry and thinks I must adopt that dog immediately! But I know that honesty is always the best policy and it's very important that potential dog owners know absolutely everything about their new dog, good and bad. With that in mind, I feel the need to jot down something I neglected to mention about Pixie in my last post. On her first day in my apartment, I was bringing a load of laundry upstairs and Pixie was at my heels. I dumped the clothes onto my bed and was about to fold them when Pixie squatted at my feet and peed on the floor while gazing up at me with adoration, as if to say Hi! I'm Pixie! Aren't I cute?

At that moment, no, not so much. I reached down and gently pushed her as I exclaimed, "No!" Then I scooped her up and deposited her outside. As I cleaned the carpet I mused over the fact that it's probably somewhat pointless to put her outside after she peed, because she already peed. It's not like she had to go anymore. But I did interrupt her, which is good, so maybe she still had some pee left to...pee.

Was I mad? No. She's just a little girl who's had absolutely no training at all. I'm willing to bet that's the first time anyone's ever corrected her poor behavior before. Did she learn anything from that moment? Maybe. On her first night I crated her while I slept and when I woke up and let her out of the crate, I noted that she'd peed on the blanket and pillow inside. And she did the same thing later on when I crated her while I was at the gym. After a long discussion about wasting water and the price of laundry detergent, I returned the still warm blanket and pillow from their second go 'round in the dryer to her crate and then beckoned her inside as well. After Pixie sniffed their springtime freshness, I asked her to sit down in the crate. She sat and received much praise. Then I asked her to lie down. Then I asked her to lay down. While the editor within quarreled, Pixie gently dropped down on the blanket and rolled onto her back so I could scratch her belly, which I did gladly. Then I sat back and did nothing. She did the same. My computer is next to her crate, so I carefully eased myself into my chair so as not to disturb her and started reading blogs. After a few moments she sighed audibly and closed her eyes, which could only mean This is my crate now. I'll soil it no longer.

The crate has been dry ever since, as has been the rest of my apartment. I think she's getting the hang of this housebreaking thing.