- 6 years ago
- Wedding: October 2012
When you introduce a doggie into your home who is already housetrained, you have to learn their body language to know when they need to go out.
Our 8 month old pup came to us bell trained! Which was great because I had planned to bell train whatever dog we got. Well, the problem with bell training, we soon discovered, is that the pup will ring the bell just to go outside, even if a potty break is not required. The first several times he rang the bell, we always let him out just in case. But we soon caught on to his scheming. He cried wolf often and he wasn’t very sly. He rings the bell about one minute after he gets back inside most of the time. We live in a frozen tundra and he loves the snow, so he loves outside. However, since his rock accident we now have to go outside with him. So we don’t love taking him out every single minute.
This morning, Darling Husband takes the pup out to potty. They come back inside and Darling Husband feeds him as I sleepily stumble down the stairs to start packing my lunch. Well, the pup starts ringing the bell. We tell him to knock it off and eat his food, “You were JUST out there!” He has always been persistent in his bell ringing, but this morning was unusal. He would ring the bell and HOP. We laughed because it was funny and we were glad he was getting back energy after his surgery.
Bell hop. Bell hop. Bell hop. Okay, it’s getting less funny now. I continue packing my lunch as Darling Husband sits at the kitchen table reading when giant fart noises startle us and we are immediately enveloped in green air. Our poor pup gave up on us and started having diarehea on the linoleum floor.
Panic sets in on all of us now. I run over to the door as Darling Husband jumps up and and I can only guess our pup realizes he now has our full attention and so he graciously squeezes his muscles to hold it all in long enough for Darling Husband to pull on snow boots (there was no time to grab a coat) and rush him outside.
Oh man, I had to start cleaning up the floor. The smell. Oh, the smell. I tried so hard not to gag, but I had no choice in the matter. I was thisclose to actually vomiting. I get out the bleach spray and start wiping up the floor, trying to hold in gags as I pondered, “How will I ever change our kid’s diapers someday? Will I throw up on our babies?” (Note: we aren’t preggers, this is me imagining future kids… covered in my vomit.)
Darling Husband and the pup come back inside. Darling Husband is a little white. I’m sure he was freezing outside since he had no coat and also just witnessed the most horrific dog diarreha we’ve yet to encounter. He tried to go back out and clean up the lawn, but it was FROZEN to the packed down snow/ice already. He needs to go find a shovel.
Meanwhile, he asks me to try and clean up the rear-end of our pooch who is now happily eating breakfast again. He said it got pretty sloppy and our dog is still not allowed to, er, clean himself. We can’t let him near his stitches. So I bravely get out wet wipes and sort of straddle the dog backwords to hold him in place and lift his tail… OMGravy. I will spare you the horror. But oh the smell. Oh the terror. Here comes the gagging again.
Darling Husband: Are you alright?
Me: *gag* I’m uh *gag* having a hard time with the *gag* smell….
Darling Husband: Yeah….
Dog: *thinking* Excuse me? I’m the one with the upset tummy here. Mom, leave me alone.
Then before we know it Darling Husband is late for work, I have no desire to eat breakfast or finish packing my lunch. And the pup is a little like “I told you so”. Now we know that when he turns to bell-hopping, we have an emergency on our hands.
Sadly enough, I’m still queasy.