House broken

To make my life easier, I bought a large dog crate and put it in my room. I would crate Libby at night and anytime we were not home in order to house break her and Libby proof the house. It worked beautifully. She housetrained quickly and all I had to say was “night-night” and she would head for the crate at least that is how it worked for the first few months. Then I guess she decided she didn’t particularly like the crate. I would say “night-night” and she would head for the crate. Only now, instead of going in, she would swerve at the last minute, bypass the crate and go under the bed, just out of reach. After a few weeks of that, the crate went to the basement. At least she was housebroken.
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The ringing phone woke me this morning. As I stumbled around the bed to get the cordless, I discovered a glove with part of the cuff missing. I asked Ed if it was his. Yes, it was.

“How did she get it? It was put up”

Obviously not well enough. I went on a search for the other glove. I found it on the love seat, along with his cap and Katherine’s coat. I had remembered seeming them all on the back of the love seat the night before. Normally, that would have been fine, but if something (like one of the cats) knocked them onto the seats, they could have been considered fair game. After all, she has eaten the cover off one of the couch cushions and chewed a large hole in the back.

Making my way down the hall, back to the bed room I noticed a fitted sheet on the floor in front of the linen closet. I picked it up and put it back, knowing there is probably a perfectly round hole chewed in it somewhere.

Reentering the bedroom, I also discovered a wash rag and one of my sweatshirts in the floor. I don’t know how I missed those on the way out, other than I was focused on the glove. I recognized the sweatshirt as the one I tossed yesterday, because she had got it then. She must have gone back for seconds. I tossed it again; a little better this time.

As I circled the end of the bed, I could the curve of a black back end sticking out from under it. Still one of her favorite places. Sound asleep, of course. I planned on being there myself shortly.

About 45 minutes later, I hear her come out and run down the hall. Then she ran back. I could feel her and then I opened my eyes to see her staring intently at me.

“You have to go out, don’t you?” She turned and ran back down the hall.

“Ok” I groaned, getting up again. By the time I got to my clothes she was back with an expression on her face that seemed to say,

“Will you hurry up? I have to go NOW!”

“Hang on, unlike you; I have to get dressed first.”

We can’t just let her out, because she has to go on “walkabout” or in her case “runabout” if we do. I put her out on a cable in the back yard. There is a nice big dog house out there that originally belonged to Mom’s hundred pound Border Collie mix, Sheba, and more recently to my hundred pound Sarge. The dog house is full of straw and normally she stays out most of the day. With the recent cold, I don’t leave her out long.

To keep myself from getting clobbered and drug all over the yard, we stop in the garage and put her on a leash to take here ten feet out the back door to the cable. When the weather is warmer, I don’t worry about getting dressed first, but when its five degrees…

So I was getting dressed and trying to explain it to her. (I know, but I did it anyway).

About that time, I had a sneezing fit. I don’t know what it is about that but it has the same effect on Libby as telling a kid they’re going to see Santa or something. She goes nuts. I braced myself to be mauled. Did I mention she weighs about 60 lbs? It was about that time that I noticed Ed was trying not to laugh. He’s usually the one who gets the sneezing fit mauling. Then she starts sneezing too. It’s actually pretty funny.

I managed to get her out side without any more mishaps, and so I went back in to make coffee and start my day.

Later, we were at the laundry mat, drying clothes (because our dryer died). As we started folding the clothes we discovered a few of Libby’s sneak attacks. A few, I didn’t even bother to fold, just threw away right there; a few others, I thought were still halfway wearable…at least she’s housebroken.