The most entertaining part about the early winter that we've been having on the East Coast (early as in, more winter than we had all last year), is that the snowbanks next to the sidewalks are just high enough to go over Calvin's head. Entertaining because to passersby, I am standing by myself saying things ranging from: "You're okay!! You're fine!" to "FOR THE LOVE OF CHRISTMAS JUST PEE SO WE CAN ALL GO HOME!" However, since I'm in downtown Dartmouth, almost no one notices since there's almost always someone crazier yelling about crack.
The pup is good. House-breaking is proving to be a battle of wit and stamina that I refuse to lose to a 7lb mini dachshund. It starts with convincing him that he needs water to live and him convincing me that his 1/4 cup serving of puppy kibble twice a day is heinous and worth a call to the SPCA. Luckily I am unfazed since something that chases its own ears is unlikely to learn how to use a cell phone.
In about twenty minutes time, I know he needs to go. He pretends he doesn't ("Oh me? I'm just um...you know...sniffing about innocently. So what if I'm scuttling around the spot where I peeed before? You don't trust me? Well...I'm glad I know who my REAL friends are). I chuck him outside - with love- and we both shiver as he does his usual if-I-were-a-child-you'd-totally-be-in-jail dance that involves whimpering and picking up each paw as if I were making him stand on a pit of fire. This dance famously made a homeless man tell me to take better care of my dog about five minutes before I had a dog-induced nervous breakdown. While I went home and cried tears of shame, the puppy danced about happily thanks to my public humiliation, and I expect the homeless man continued to say the same thing to everyone he met on the street whether or not there was a dog present.
After about thirty minutes of walking around - which he can do unless a stranger is looking at him at which point he shivers and makes his ribs stick out in hopes of getting taken to a bigger home with more places to pee - I break and figure his extra length is simply to accommodate a bladder the size of my head. We enter the apartment and without a doubt, as I take my shoes off, he gets into position and chuckles at my petty attempts to mold him into a well-rounded animal.
I should have just gotten a foot-long sub.
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3 comments:
My little guy has gone outside like four times for Steve. But can he even do it once for me? Not a chance...
Man, I LOVE it when random passersby offer unsolicited dog advice. You should train Calvin to pee on their shoes.
Being able to train him to do ANYTHING would be great. He's too adorable for his own good but man...he's tough to break. He just defiled all over the place just to spite me for leaving to grab a beer.
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