Miscellaneous Mutterings

When we were talking about getting a dog, friends warned me against it.  They told me about how hard it was to house break a puppy, how puppies so love to chew on everything – especially your favorite shoes, and how much like having a baby it would be to get a dog. 

I smiled and nodded, but secretly I knew that our dog would be different. 

When we were talking about getting a dog, friends warned me against it.  They told me about how hard it was to house break a puppy, how puppies so love to chew on everything – especially your favorite shoes, and how much like having a baby it would be to get a dog. 

I smiled and nodded, but secretly I knew that our dog would be different.  Our dog would be smarter and better behaved than other dogs.  It’s like before you had kids.  You know, you’d sit in the restaurant, mumbling under your breath about how those people can’t control their children.  Making naïve promises to yourselves that your kids will never behave like that!

We’re not sure exactly what mix of breeds Pumpkin is, but we do know she’s at least German Shepherd and Husky.  It’s pretty obvious to look at her, but I was convinced beyond any doubt when we were watching an episode of the Dog Whisperer and he said that the one thing German Shepherds love to do most is chew.

Our friends have been wonderful.  Instead of saying “I told you so,” they offer helpful tips from experience:  install a doggy-door so she can get outside when she needs to; buy a truckload of cow hooves or pig’s ears for her to chew – you’ll need them. 

We haven’t installed the door as yet, but I did buy rawhide and cow hooves.  Pumpkin’s a picky chewer though, and nothing seems to attract her more than everything she’s forbidden to chew.  Here’s the short list, I’ve lost track:

• 3 pairs of my sneakers (my everyday pair, my yard-work pair, and the spare pair because I’m a woman of excess.)
• 1 pair of Christopher’s brand-new Lightning McQueen sneakers which he was so proud of after seeing the movie Cars.
• 1 pair of Chuck’s sneakers.
• Toys beyond number.
• 1 quarter sized hole in the carpet.

The hole in the carpet I’m not so concerned about as I’ve been wanting solid surface floors since we bought this house.  And the hole in the carpet only serves to hasten that day – the hole and the house-breaking.

Each morning I get out of bed and perform my morning Pumpkin piddle inspection in the dining room – her night-time potty of choice.  9 out of 10 mornings I find the spot when my bare foot squishes into the cold, wet that has been steeping into the wall-to-wall carpeting for several hours.

I then growl, Pumpkin!  To which she bows her head and puts her tail between her legs in shame.  For that 1 morning out of 10 where the floor is dry, I shower her with praise and love.  So far, the connection seems lost on her.

I’ve perfected an ingenious system of cleaning the carpet, too.  I haul out the wet-vac (actually, I don’t haul it out, it’s become part of the room décor), then mix up a piping hot potion of water and bleach.  Then, I dump the potion on the offending spot and let it steep for 3 minutes.  Finally, I vacuum the whole mess and for several glorious hours the room smells like bleach, rather than dog pee.

I could get really angry, the way I did with the cat pee.  Thankfully dog pee isn’t so strong.  But truth be told, I see each incident as bringing me closer to my solid surface floors.

It’s my fantasies of solid surface floors that keep me sane.  The same way you might be indulging dreams of George Clooney or Brad Pitt, my dreams find me fondling the cool, non-porous texture of 18” X 18” Travertine.

Yup.  Keeps me sane.