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I don’t know if I have a very strange dog. The only two I’ve owned were outdoor dogs, so my standards are, “Did he/she break the chain and terrorize any kids today? Nope? Great!”
Now I have to figure out how to get a dog to crap outside, how much I can leave him on his own during the day, and how to get him to climb a flight of stairs.
Today, all those issues jumbled into one.
Because of Rufus’ hesitancy about stairs, I’ve refrained from getting a dog-walker to come in by day to take him out. I don’t want someone to risk getting him up and down the stairs, and end up breaking one of his legs (they’re fragile dogs).
I’ve gone home each day from the office, taken him out, and either stayed at home for the rest of the day, or headed back to work. The thing is, I feel terrible about leaving him, and especially having to leave him in a cage/crate. It’s probably one of the reasons I haven’t owned a pet in so long; I feel way too much pity/sadness for them.
Monday, I decided to try leaving him out of the crate but in my home office (where the crate is located). As I mentioned, he knocked over the gate and wandered around the office, the living room, the dining room and the kitchen. He greeted me at the top of the stairs, which led me on a merry chase to figure out what carnage he’d caused. Amazingly, he didn’t cause much (I’d closed off the master and guest bedrooms, as well as the upstairs bathroom); just a can opener he’d pulled from the counter to the floor, as well as a couple of dishrags.
Tuesday, I decided to work at home and let him hang out in the living room with me. He was quiet and content. Still not happy with stairs, but getting better. At one point, I left him upstairs alone for 5 minutes while I drove down the street to pick up some drycleaning. When I returned, he had approximately the same level of joy that he shows when I’ve been away 5 hours. I appear to have a goldfish of a dog.
Today, I decided to stretch his boundaries. I came home from lunch, took him for a walk, and then let him stay in the library/rec room downstairs. While he’s been getting better with going up the stairs, I thought there was no chance he’d try it on his own. Still, I put up a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs, brought down his water bowl, bed and a couple of toys, and left him to his own devices (I closed off the side room, the boiler room and the downstairs bathroom).
Once again, he greeted me at the top of the stairs. I blinked several times. After all, what were the chances that he’d get so bored that he’d risk going up two flights of stairs? This was a dog who was in a state of catatonia on Sunday when he stood on the landing.
I noticed that he’d knocked over the baby gate downstairs, and then . . . off to inspect the carnage. Unfortunately, I left the master bedroom door open this time.
I knew I was in trouble when I noticed one of my socks beside him on the top of the stairs. The visit to the bedroom confirmed my fears: he’d gotten into the hamper and dragged every piece of clothing out of it. Thing were strewn all over the bedroom and my office. More investigation revealed that he’d chewed a bottle cap off a bottle of Coke (dangerous, I know), and that he’d gone up on a sofa to grab . . . his dog coat (greyhounds need coats outside in cold weather), which was strewn among our things.
Checking out the library, I discovered that he’d had an accident on the carpet, but it turned out to be much more cleanable than I feared it would be. Still, I pick up enough crap at work all day without having to deal with it at home.
He could sense my dismay throughout this whole experience, and looked up at me with his ridiculously cute sad eyes. Meanwhile, I felt like Ron Burgundy when he discovers his little dog has gotten into trouble at home:
What? You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole . . . wheel of cheese? How’d you do that? Heck, I’m not even mad; that’s amazing.
As I cleaned up, I noticed something odd: he didn’t shred anything. Didn’t touch a book, magazine, houseplant, piece of mail, tissue: not a thing. He went bananas with the hamper, pulling clothes. He couldn’t hold it in and crapped down in the library. But he didn’t chew on anything except his toys.
So it looks like he’s got that going for him.
well, at least you now know he can manage stairs – he was just testing you all along –
This is exactly what it’s like to have cartoonists as house guests.
Gotta get over the crate thing — it’s not a cage, it’s his den!
He sounds like a very good dog indeed. Good boy!
I hearya, Jess! I brought him in to the office today, and he’s sacked out on my floor (and his crate-pad) right now. The coworkers love him, and are amazed at his docility and friendliness. The editor in the office next to mine just echoed your sentiments: “My daughter is in veterinary school, and she says that the crate is the BEST thing for them by day. It’s their little home.
“Of course, when she was a child, she used to sleep on the floor next to the dog’s crate because she was so distressed at the idea of keeping the dog in one.”
Anyway, he was a real trooper on the drive in. I put him in the far-back of our Honda Element, along with his crate pad and some toys, to see if he can be driven without the crate. I took him around the block, and he just moved from side to side to look out the windows. I realized that there’s not SO much space in that area that he could take a serious spill, and he showed no signs of trying to climb/jump over the rear seats to get into my area, so I drove on to the office, and he spent the full 25 minutes just looking out the windows.
That’ll make tonight’s vet appointment easier. . .
And hey, Tom, as long as you don’t crap on the floor of my library next month, we should make out okay.
He’ll settle down…It’s early days yet…Just a little bit of anxiety about being in a new environment.
We don’t crate Buster, but he is doing much better since we blocked off the hallway and kitchen at night. I think having too much space to patrol is a bit stressful for them.
I suspect he used to be crated because he sleeps srcunched up with his feet against the wall. Also, when we take him for a walk he craps up to 4 times in the space of 10 minutes (fun!)
I guess he thinks he has to get it all out while he can because he used to have to do that when he was locked up. He doesn’t seem to realise that the 1/4 acre of yard that he spends 9 hours a day in is OK to crap in too.
This morning he peed on the floor, despite the fact that I left the back door open for him. I suspect the little bugger just didn’t want to go outside because there was a slight chill in the air.
He seems to be pulling out all the tricks now that it’s possible he’s going to be adopted soon…Despite all that, we’ll miss him, and we’ll have to get another hound to foster very soon.