Sunday, April 10, 2016

My Life is Shit

These two produce an inordinate amount of poop.
When we decided to get our second dog, Tony, I did not think of how I was going to have double the dog shit in our tiny yard, nor did I think house-training him would be a big deal.

Where we are with the house training: I am inordinately proud of myself for teaching Tony to ring the bells I hung on the doors when he wants to go out.

Honestly, though, that was easy, took about a day for him to get it.

The hard part: convincing Tony that, yes, it is important to never pee or poop in the house.

Also, he abuses those bells, sometimes ringing them every few minutes, and for a wide variety of reasons, such as he’d like to lay out in the sun.

Which is fine, except we have discovered that it is impossible to make our driveway gate “Tony-proof.” He can get under it when it’s closed. However, we can’t make that gap any smaller or it won’t open.

(Contemplating an “invisible fence,” if you’ve got any advice about that.)

So, for weeks, I have been at the other end of the leash, poop bag in hand, every time Tony (and Lola, who always comes along) has pooped or peed.

There are times in life when biology is much more front and center than usual. 

I told this to my husband, a gastroenterologist. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he said.

I am reminded of bringing home new babies with all that entails, from spitting up (etc.) for the baby to let-down (etc.) for the mom.

Working on getting Tony's and Lola's biology back to humming along without quite so much of my involvement.


  1. Kudos to you on getting Tony to "ring 'dem chimes." That's a pretty smart pooch you've got there. My husband told me about a Sheltie his mother had when they were living on the third floor of a flat in San Francisco. Mitzie would go down three flights of outside stairs to their tiny yard, by herself, and come back up. After she came in, my mother-in-law would tell her "Mitzie, you forgot to close the door." And Mitzie would go over and push it shut with her front paws.

    I don't know about the invisible fence. It just seems like a prescription for a neurotic dog to me. But I do appreciate your dilemma with Tony being able to get out under the gate. The only time I've ever been bitten by a dog was at our last place out in the country. We were standing on the other side of our neighbor's ranch gate down the road from us and her over-protective Dachshund, Turbo, squeezed out and attacked me. He took a chunk out of the base of my thumb and managed to bite my leg through my jeans. His owner was horrified and offered to pay any medical bills (there were none). I'm sure Tony wouldn't do anything like that and you're greater worry is something happening to him, so I do understand.

    Love your husband's comment. :)

  2. Ack! I do know the difference between "your" and "you're." Honest.