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wendykhThis morning I shot out of bed at 6:45am thanks to Max alerting us the house was on fire.
Well, it wasn't actually on fire. The "finished" signal simply went off on Miss Mary's coffee pot.
He scratched furiously on my door since Miss Mary was in the shower. I grumpily got out of bed and opened the door.
"WHAT?!"
He jumped up and down looking like a little kid with his cheeks blown out trying desperately not to yell but wanting to say something so bad. I decided that was good behaviour and followed him out. He bounced up and down clearly directing my attention to the very dangerous and scary coffee preparation device, but did not start his Excessive Barking, although I could tell he wanted to SO badly!
I was pleased. We shall see how it goes when the mowers come today.
Afterwards I took him on a very long walk around the grounds. I am a firm believer that a tired dog is a happy and well behaved dog. I am absolutely certain this dog has never been walked so much. I just kept retracting the leash little by little. He was always out in front of me a bit, but by the end was walking almost right next to me, barely in front. I was quite pleased. Very good progress.
I was more pleased by his behaviour.
We walked along a path and saw another little old lady with the absolute most adorable french bulldog I have ever seen. Totally white. Anticipating Max being a brat, I moved to the other side of the road. He kept looking back at me like "please? please?" I sternly informed him he was to sit right here and behave.
Pixie was not on a leash. The lady asked me if he was a boy or a girl, and I said boy but neutered. She said oh she doesn't like boy dogs. I said that's fine we're working on manners so we'll stay right over here. She smiled and said thank you.
Max did not even bark once. I wished I had a steak in my pocket!
And then in the "how does work just fall in my pocket?" file, she asks "Hey wait, isn't that Maxwell Smart?" (I confess sometimes I feel like snarkily calling him Maxwell HOUSE due to his temperment!) I said yes indeed it was. She said "oh you must be Miss Mary's granddaughter. I'm Gladys. Nice to meet you." We shook hands and were all friendly. "Say you seem good with dogs. Would you like to walk my Pixie once a day? She likes to get out more than I do or can really... I'd pay you!"
So I of course said "sure!" By the time we were working out details, her friend Margaret came alone with her dog Goldie (a monstrous retriever). And suddenly I heard "Marge, you should come talk to Wendy here. She's Miss Mary's granddaughter and a dog expert, I bet she can get that beast of yours under control..."
I had to explain I'm not really an expert, just... Canine Gifted, shall we say. But after a few minutes (and oh forget steak I was gonna give Max an entire cow when we got home he was being SO good!) I was hereby going to come over and work with her six month old golden and teach it some manners as well. I'm slightly more apprehensive about this but she said as long as I was trying, she would be pleased. Marge doesn't want to give up the dog, because her grandkids adore the thing (she's also rather fond of Goldie to be honest) and they got it for her to keep her company since her husband died, but she just doesn't have the strength and energy to train a golden retreiver. What on earth her family was thinking getting a woman in a wheelchair a high energy dog like a golden is beyond me, but, we'll try to work it out.
Golf carts and bicycles continue to annoy him to no end. Fabulous for a dog living in a retirement complex. We continued our walk and ran into a lady on a bicycle on the path. I moved aside and Max barked ONCE. I yanked him back and he turned to look at me like he was so angry I wouldn't let him go off. A golf cart went by and he near had a heart attack he was so pissed off. But I yanked and he pouted then walked on.
Overall, quite pleased. He gets cuddling and snuggles now. :-)
Yesterday I took a walk over to the Publix and picket up some Lipton Diet White Tea in Raspberry. YUM. While out and about I walked into the pet store and there was a teeny tiny chiuhaha (whatever, you know what I mean) yorkie cross. I believe mini version of both as this pup literally fit in my hand and I have small hands. It's a good thing I am poor as this thing was EIGHT FREAKING HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS (for an unregistered crossbreed?! are you fucking kidding me?!) but I have no impulse control and that thing would have been so mine. Anyway I sat and cuddled her a while and put her back, then came home where Max sat and sniffed my boobs all night (since that's where I held puppy). I felt like I could hear him thinking "who is he?! I can smell him all over you, you two timer!" I kept teasing him. "Oh Max, stop, it was just a one time thing, he means nothing..." :-P
But now I've got a new challenge with Max. I am pleased with how walking and barking training are going, although I realize it will still take firm consistent discipline in these areas to keep him on track. However... there's another problem I am stupified how to tackle.
Remember how a lot of our kids would pee in the toilet first but took forever to train for pooping? Well, Max has the same issue. He'll pee outside just fine. But remember how I said the other day I wandered upstairs and found treasure aka exercise equipment? Well that is fine and all, but I found other treasure as well. Max Turds.
Luckily, they were dry and easily removed with tissue and flushable. I did not scold him as I have read a lot that the dog doesn't get it anymore than a two year old child will. Plus to be honest being a "punisher" is not my style.
With kids and dogs, anyway.
I wrote it off as I simply wasn't watching him enough and/or he was pissed at me getting on him or something.
So yesterday I go up and find a TON of turds. I figured that was a "thank you" for getting on his butt about the over barking problem. So last night I told Miss Mary while we were going to Publix and she says "Oh I didn't tell you, that's his bathroom."
"Wut?"
"That's his bathroom. I tried and tried, with the litter box, which he just played with the things in it, with the pads, which he just tore apart, and I was gone so much, well he just got used to going there, so I just pick them up with tissue and flush them down the stool."
OH.HELL.TO.THE.NO! This dog is supposed to convince my OCD husband that we should get one? OMG! HELL NO!
That is not going on. No.
IT'S CARPET FOR GOD'S SAKE.
"It's my fault really, when I got him I thought I was gonna be retiring right away... and that was two years ago..."
"Miss Mary, you've been threatening to retire for FIFTEEN YEARS! Give it up, you're gonna die at your desk!"
"Now it hasn't been that long. I first tried retiring your senior year of high school, right before Josh died..."
"GRANDMA I GRADUATED IN 1993!"
"Well that hasn't been 15 years has it?! (pause) oh shit..."
So anyway now she says see if I can get him to go outside.
I am going to first investigate methods before trying anything as I don't want to start half ass and confuse him, or try 18 different things and not know what precisely is working.
So here's what I think is my basic plan.
1) Block access to upstairs. I am not sure WHEN he is going up there, so let's just prevent it.
2) no more free feeding. Feed him, watchin him, remove it after a few minutes, then take him outside till he poops. Be prepared to wait a LONG time.
If y'all have other ideas, let me know.
I hope this is like raising (my) kids where it gets easier as they get older right? I was never in charge with dog care before. So this is all new for me.
Well, it wasn't actually on fire. The "finished" signal simply went off on Miss Mary's coffee pot.
He scratched furiously on my door since Miss Mary was in the shower. I grumpily got out of bed and opened the door.
"WHAT?!"
He jumped up and down looking like a little kid with his cheeks blown out trying desperately not to yell but wanting to say something so bad. I decided that was good behaviour and followed him out. He bounced up and down clearly directing my attention to the very dangerous and scary coffee preparation device, but did not start his Excessive Barking, although I could tell he wanted to SO badly!
I was pleased. We shall see how it goes when the mowers come today.
Afterwards I took him on a very long walk around the grounds. I am a firm believer that a tired dog is a happy and well behaved dog. I am absolutely certain this dog has never been walked so much. I just kept retracting the leash little by little. He was always out in front of me a bit, but by the end was walking almost right next to me, barely in front. I was quite pleased. Very good progress.
I was more pleased by his behaviour.
We walked along a path and saw another little old lady with the absolute most adorable french bulldog I have ever seen. Totally white. Anticipating Max being a brat, I moved to the other side of the road. He kept looking back at me like "please? please?" I sternly informed him he was to sit right here and behave.
Pixie was not on a leash. The lady asked me if he was a boy or a girl, and I said boy but neutered. She said oh she doesn't like boy dogs. I said that's fine we're working on manners so we'll stay right over here. She smiled and said thank you.
Max did not even bark once. I wished I had a steak in my pocket!
And then in the "how does work just fall in my pocket?" file, she asks "Hey wait, isn't that Maxwell Smart?" (I confess sometimes I feel like snarkily calling him Maxwell HOUSE due to his temperment!) I said yes indeed it was. She said "oh you must be Miss Mary's granddaughter. I'm Gladys. Nice to meet you." We shook hands and were all friendly. "Say you seem good with dogs. Would you like to walk my Pixie once a day? She likes to get out more than I do or can really... I'd pay you!"
So I of course said "sure!" By the time we were working out details, her friend Margaret came alone with her dog Goldie (a monstrous retriever). And suddenly I heard "Marge, you should come talk to Wendy here. She's Miss Mary's granddaughter and a dog expert, I bet she can get that beast of yours under control..."
I had to explain I'm not really an expert, just... Canine Gifted, shall we say. But after a few minutes (and oh forget steak I was gonna give Max an entire cow when we got home he was being SO good!) I was hereby going to come over and work with her six month old golden and teach it some manners as well. I'm slightly more apprehensive about this but she said as long as I was trying, she would be pleased. Marge doesn't want to give up the dog, because her grandkids adore the thing (she's also rather fond of Goldie to be honest) and they got it for her to keep her company since her husband died, but she just doesn't have the strength and energy to train a golden retreiver. What on earth her family was thinking getting a woman in a wheelchair a high energy dog like a golden is beyond me, but, we'll try to work it out.
Golf carts and bicycles continue to annoy him to no end. Fabulous for a dog living in a retirement complex. We continued our walk and ran into a lady on a bicycle on the path. I moved aside and Max barked ONCE. I yanked him back and he turned to look at me like he was so angry I wouldn't let him go off. A golf cart went by and he near had a heart attack he was so pissed off. But I yanked and he pouted then walked on.
Overall, quite pleased. He gets cuddling and snuggles now. :-)
Yesterday I took a walk over to the Publix and picket up some Lipton Diet White Tea in Raspberry. YUM. While out and about I walked into the pet store and there was a teeny tiny chiuhaha (whatever, you know what I mean) yorkie cross. I believe mini version of both as this pup literally fit in my hand and I have small hands. It's a good thing I am poor as this thing was EIGHT FREAKING HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS (for an unregistered crossbreed?! are you fucking kidding me?!) but I have no impulse control and that thing would have been so mine. Anyway I sat and cuddled her a while and put her back, then came home where Max sat and sniffed my boobs all night (since that's where I held puppy). I felt like I could hear him thinking "who is he?! I can smell him all over you, you two timer!" I kept teasing him. "Oh Max, stop, it was just a one time thing, he means nothing..." :-P
But now I've got a new challenge with Max. I am pleased with how walking and barking training are going, although I realize it will still take firm consistent discipline in these areas to keep him on track. However... there's another problem I am stupified how to tackle.
Remember how a lot of our kids would pee in the toilet first but took forever to train for pooping? Well, Max has the same issue. He'll pee outside just fine. But remember how I said the other day I wandered upstairs and found treasure aka exercise equipment? Well that is fine and all, but I found other treasure as well. Max Turds.
Luckily, they were dry and easily removed with tissue and flushable. I did not scold him as I have read a lot that the dog doesn't get it anymore than a two year old child will. Plus to be honest being a "punisher" is not my style.
With kids and dogs, anyway.
I wrote it off as I simply wasn't watching him enough and/or he was pissed at me getting on him or something.
So yesterday I go up and find a TON of turds. I figured that was a "thank you" for getting on his butt about the over barking problem. So last night I told Miss Mary while we were going to Publix and she says "Oh I didn't tell you, that's his bathroom."
"Wut?"
"That's his bathroom. I tried and tried, with the litter box, which he just played with the things in it, with the pads, which he just tore apart, and I was gone so much, well he just got used to going there, so I just pick them up with tissue and flush them down the stool."
OH.HELL.TO.THE.NO! This dog is supposed to convince my OCD husband that we should get one? OMG! HELL NO!
That is not going on. No.
IT'S CARPET FOR GOD'S SAKE.
"It's my fault really, when I got him I thought I was gonna be retiring right away... and that was two years ago..."
"Miss Mary, you've been threatening to retire for FIFTEEN YEARS! Give it up, you're gonna die at your desk!"
"Now it hasn't been that long. I first tried retiring your senior year of high school, right before Josh died..."
"GRANDMA I GRADUATED IN 1993!"
"Well that hasn't been 15 years has it?! (pause) oh shit..."
So anyway now she says see if I can get him to go outside.
I am going to first investigate methods before trying anything as I don't want to start half ass and confuse him, or try 18 different things and not know what precisely is working.
So here's what I think is my basic plan.
1) Block access to upstairs. I am not sure WHEN he is going up there, so let's just prevent it.
2) no more free feeding. Feed him, watchin him, remove it after a few minutes, then take him outside till he poops. Be prepared to wait a LONG time.
If y'all have other ideas, let me know.
I hope this is like raising (my) kids where it gets easier as they get older right? I was never in charge with dog care before. So this is all new for me.
