Sometimes
I meet people who tell me that they can potty train any dog in a
weekend. I'm never quite sure how to respond to them, but I'm pretty
sure it's a mixture of wanting to yell “BULLSHIT” and “SHUT UP
AND TAKE MY MONEY” because I suck
at potty training dogs. I'm not sure why this is; the concept is simple enough. Take the dog
out on a regular schedule, watch them like a hawk in between times,
and confine them when you can't.
Either both of my dogs are difficult to potty train or I
suck at this whole thing. With Maisy, born in a puppy mill and then
lived in a small cage at a pet store until I found her at about 14
weeks, it made sense. She had always just squatted and gone where she
was.
Pyg, though, lived in a foster home for a good six months. He likely
had some potty training before I got him. Even so, I'm finding myself
struggling with him, too. I know part of it is that it's December in
Minnesota (read: cold), and I just don't want to bundle up and go out
regularly. And I'm clearly not very good at supervising him.
"Just wait until I figure out how to open this window, Squirrel." |
A
big part of this is Pyg's absolute determination that he will not be
confined. Perhaps I should have named him Houdini, because he is an
escape artist. The first day I had him, he scaled a four-foot tall
x-pen. Then, he went through
three baby gates, which had been placed floor to ceiling in the
kitchen doorway. I would have loved to have seen that.
Crating worked for awhile, but two weeks ago he figured out how to get
out of a wire crate. I'm not entirely sure how he did it; the door
was tightly latched, all the bars remained straight, and it was not
otherwise destroyed or popped apart. I assume he slithered out
somehow, but until I can get him reliably crate trained (a work in
progress), he is now left loose in the house, complicating the potty training.
I know this too shall pass. Maisy, impossible as I found her potty
training to be, now has a bladder of steel. She rarely has accidents,
even when she's got a UTI. I can potty train a dog. I can. But until that
happens with Pyg, I'm grateful for belly bands, maxi pads, and my
steam cleaner.
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