Tough as f*ck little suckas
You don’t wanna mess with ‘em.
They fight dirty (or they’re just dirty because of all the rain and mud).
And their weapon of choice?
doG DAMN but I’m having a helluva time housebreaking Fae. The Italian Greyhounds, at least, use the potty pads. I hate the potty pads, but can live with them. And Fae knows what potty pads are for as she will use them at work, mostly … but she also pees on dog beds. At home, she has ruined one area rug in the bedroom, where she prefers to stealth pee. When I let her out to pee with the other dogs, she stands on the porch and stares at nothing until everyone comes back inside. If I go out with her, she also stands around staring at nothing until I give up and bring her back inside.
I have to actually put her on a leash and walk her up the road to get her to pee, but I can’t do that all the time – and it doesn’t always work. Sometimes she will walk up and down the road forever and not pee, then pee in my bedroom. I praise her like crazy when she does go, and she – I swear to doG – gives me a dirty look when I do.
But twice in the last 10 days she has climbed up onto my bed and peed on my quilt! And always she does this when I go to brush my teeth and stuff – she’ll pee on the bed and then go lie down a couple feet away from it. I usually find it by kneeling in it as I climb into bed.
She’s cute and I love her like mental, but the bed peeing … it makes. Me want. to rip out her bladder and shove it up her ass.
What gives man? Any brilliant ideas?
You were probably wondering who Tiny Dog #4 is in that photo. That’s Rhumba. Rhumba has been living at my work since October, and nobody wants to adopt her. She’s a special little creature with some funny quirks (skeptical of strangers, downright suspicious of men, strangers or not, and kinda bitchy/fighty with other dogs when she gets her back up) but you’d think there’d be a ladies only family out there somewhere who would want to love her :(
She stays in reception, not the kennels, but she’s been there for so long she thinks the shelter is her home, and that breaks my heart. So I went and got her on my day off and brought her home, and I think I’ll just bring her home in the evenings for a while. It gives me a chance to see what she’s like outside of a shelter setting / in a house (so far so good – uses the pee pads if she really needs to go, sleeps quietly on my bed at night without being disruptive, respects the cats, and learned really quickly how to line up for popcorn while The Food Lady watches a movie) and maybe help her overall confidence.
TWooie didn’t even get angry about having another dog in the house. I don’t know if it’s because he’s finally given up on caring about foster dogs, or if she’s too small to bother with, but he hasn’t made ugly face or growled or lunged in her direction once. They shared the bed with me last night, no fighting!
He did, however, get back at me by rolling in something vile this afternoon.
Well f*ck you and all.
Brother Wootie is still going gangbusters, albeit on three legs. For a while I thought about not even doing the surgery, because he was walking without a limp almost at all and didn’t appear to be in any significant pain, and Dr.B did say “doing nothing” was a not unheard of option. Not because I don’t want to spend the money on Noodles, but because he is going to be the world’s shittiest patient. And he’s a screamer when he hurts too. But then about a week ago he tweaked his knee and has been tripodding ever since. I am now sort of trying to stall until the weather gets a bit better, as I know that trying to rehab in the dark and rain sucks.
He still wants to play fetch and everything though.
I’m still the king of the Wootie Toy.
I’ma pee on Wootie bandages.