Picture of the Day: jail

Poor Milo.

Picture of the Day: The Puppy Romp

Today we took Milo to a Puppy Romp in a local doggy daycare centre. The idea is that everyone brings their puppies and they’re allowed to play together off leash. Good for learning and socialising yadda yadda yadda and it’s all supervised by a professional dog trainer. So far, so normal. But this is what Milo did at the Puppy Romp. For an hour straight.

I, for one, welcome our new puppy overlord

I’m a hostage in my own home. There, I said it.

As much as I love Milo (which is a lot, considering I only know him a week and a half) my life has changed drastically since he bounded into it, pissing and pooping as he went. His bowels dictate my schedule from when I first wake up at 6.20am til his final toilet break just before I go to bed. And potty training is hard when you live on the third floor, especially since he shunned the idea of relieving himself on newspaper from day one. Up and down the stairs we go, six to ten times a day, in the cold and rain. Honestly, it has become my full-time job. And of course he doesn’t just go out, pee, and come back in like a good little robot. Every sound and smell along the way has to be investigated. It takes years.

Separation anxiety is something else we’re having to contend with. I think it’s fair to say that when we’re at home, Milo stalks me. If I was Lindsay Lohan he’d be in jail right now. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, his little eyes are trained on my face or my hands, which could contain food. At first I was flattered (he loves me! He really loves me!) but it’s started to affect what I can and can’t do. Mostly what I can’t do, which is anything. For example, I can’t ever be alone. Right now he’s perched on the back of an armchair staring me out of it. He’s fighting sleep in case I make a sudden movement and he misses it. As you can imagine, this means he gets very unhappy when he can’t see me, like when I need to take my own potty break. He’ll sit outside the bathroom door whimpering until I come out and then he’ll go nuts. Sometimes I go nuts myself, inwardly.

Funnily enough though, when we go out for walks he will completely ignore me. It’s like I don’t exist anymore. He’s friendly to the point that if he sees another person, especially if that person is a child, he will do anything to go over and say hello. Luckily, almost everyone stops to pet him (he’s exceptionally cute at the moment. A man shouted that out of a moving car last weekend) but if someone walks or cycles past Milo without bowing down before him, he’ll sit down, stare after them and cry. Cute? Yes. Frustrating? Definitely.

And of course then there’s the chewing. He’s just turned 15 weeks old so he’s teething. I knew this was going to happen, and had prepared myself and the house for it, but nothing is safe, not even my own body parts. Suddenly I’m very aware that all our furniture is being leased by The Massive Multinational Company That Cannot Be Named. So far he’s chewed three holes in the couch and ripped up some of the carpet. And that’s just the stuff we don’t own. Yesterday morning he chewed my BlackBerry to the extent that he actually dialed a number with his teeth. Someone picked up and I have no idea how long he was chatting to them for. I can’t wait until my phone bill comes because you can bet your life it was long distance.

So what am I doing in order to try and make him more normal? Well for one thing, I’ve just ordered a dog crate online. Crates don’t seem to be massive in Ireland but they’re de rigueur in America. Apparently dogs love being in a den and once Milo and his new crate get acquainted he’ll happily stay in there, with the door closed, and allow me to go to the supermarket or pee in peace. Well, that’s the theory anyway. I’m also bringing him to a Puppy Romp at a local dog training school this weekend, which should be fun and educational. He’ll get to play with some other puppies and hopefully learn some manners while he’s there. After that all I can do is hope he’ll grow up fast (but still stay cute, obvs).

Making slow puppy progress

Today is Tuesday, Day Three of having Milo in my life. He’s now exactly 14 weeks old and, I don’t know if I’m imagining this or what, getting cuter by the second. And smarter too. I think he could be president someday. He’s also the friendliest puppy of all time. He will do anything to meet new people, especially kids. He made out with a seven-year-old boy the other day. It was gross but the kid’s mother didn’t seem to care so I let him on.

So what have we been doing since Sunday? Making progress, that’s what. Milo is fast becoming a potty training pro, although he has the occasional accident if I don’t watch him constantly. He is still sleeping in his bed beside me and whines a bit when the light goes off. But, and this is the important bit, he has never (touch wood) done his business in the bedroom. He holds it, difficult for a baby, until I take him out, absolutely bursting, at 6am. When we get to his favourite grassy patch he relieves himself immediately and gets a treat for his efforts. Then I feed him and bring him out for more pees and poops about every hour as well as one long proper walk in the park across the road.

Money-wise, he’s costing me an arm, a leg and a head. After the initial outlay (bed, toys, bowls, food, brush etc) there’s still his vaccinations (two sets) to come, plus our apartment charges a fee (a $150 once-off payment and $25 a month pet rent). If I had a job it would be totally fine, but alas, I’m unemployed and haemorraging what little money I have left. He’s already microchipped but I need to get him fitted with a European standard one for his eventual trip home to Ireland. I called a local vet to price that and his shots and it wasn’t cheap. Oy vey. He’s been scratching a bit too so we went for a walk to Petco yesterday to get some kind of medicine. ZOMG, he was treated like a celebrity up there! He got treats, one lady asked to hold him, another complimented him on his breath (?) and the resident dog trainer handled him a bit and said he’s definitely healthy and happy. I also found out that a mobile clinic stops there every Saturday to do affordable vaccinations without the traditional examination fee. Perfect for a povo dog owner like me! Plus, he gets a rabies shot for free if I opt for the package, which I will. And so, with a three-month supply of flea medicine ($60) off we went, wagging our tails, delighted with our little trip.

Today we are going to practice being alone in separate rooms for a bit. He’s fine when I’m in the bathroom with the door closed but when the tables are turned he goes apeshit. My book says the bathroom is the best place for him because he can do minimal damage in there and I agree. He just doesn’t like when he can’t see me. Still, I left him in there whining and howling for 12 minutes this morning. I bet my neighbours think I’m abusing him. When he stopped, I went in to calmly get him and found him hanging out of the bath. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since, the little creep.

Eoin’s work is having a happy hour in a bar/restaurant across the road today but I don’t think I’ll be able to go, even for an hour. It’s not that I mind Milo howling, he’s a dog, not a baby, I just don’t want him scratching a hole in the door. I guess I’ll just have to make the sacrifice and hope that he gets used to his own company in the next few days. It would definitely suck if Eoin and I could never leave the house together again.

In the interest of full disclosure I would like to admit that Milo peed on the carpet twice in the making of this post. I hope it was worth it.

Bringing home Milo

I’m not going to lie to you, taking care of a boisterous puppy is no picnic. The problem is, my one is just so cute that I would literally wade through pee for him. In fact, I have done. Several times today in my stocking feet.

We had an appointment to see Milo and his six littermates yesterday at a breeder’s house just outside Portland. (Look, I know buying a puppy from a breeder is worse than stamping on a kitten, but after the infamous Mini Aussie debacle of 2011 these were the only dogs Eoin and I could agree were cute. I’d just like to state for the record that I would have been happy with any shelter puppy, but certain other people are harder to please. I got major bitchface from two pontificating girls in PetSmart yesterday for my sins so consider me punished, thanks.)

Anyway, I had been perving on the breeder’s website and lookswise, Milo was definitely doing it for me (although his white and tan brothers are all painfully cute too). When the nice lady brought us into the puppy trailer and opened the gate, seven shrieking little furballs came at us like torpedoes, but he was the one I kept my eye trained on. When they eventually calmed down, after ripping my arms to shreds first obviously, I was finally able to pick him up for a cuddle. Yes, he was Milo alright. We also got to see his ma, a fawn puggle (that’s a pug beagle hybrid for all you cat people) and his dad, a tri-coloured Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, in situ too. You might recall me previously mentioning that Cavaliers (as they call them over here) are my favourite dogs of all time. They’re good people, ya know?

And so, after doing some awkward money swapping, we were free to leave with Milo and a gas gift bag, containing his papers, vet info and, er, birth announcements, in tow. (Remind me to send one of those to the New York Times, will you?) I had planned on holding him on my knee in the passenger seat for the 35-minute journey home and had cleverly (nay, luckily) brought a towel to put between us in case of accidents. So with Milo, who is 12 weeks old and weighs 13 lbs, freaking out, off we went. Let me tell you, the dog can squirm. He howled, he cried, he tried to jump on Eoin and eventually he puked twice before we got to the apartment. Let’s just say everyone was a little distressed by the time we’d unpacked his bed, food and new toys and were waiting for him to relax his proverbial cacks.

But Milo never relaxed those cacks. Instead he barreled around the gaff for several hours, peeing and pooping on the beige carpet as he went. Eoin and I helplessly trailed after him with wads of newspaper but he didn’t, as I had hoped, instinctively know to use it as his toilet. In an effort to be The World’s Most Patient Puppy Trainer, I brought him outside for a little walk every hour, again assuming that he would know what to do once we got there, but no. In fairness, he was excellent on the leash, and learned how to negotiate the stairs on the first try, but he had no interest in relieving himself outside. He did puke again though, which was something, I told myself.

As it got later, and bedtime loomed, I started to get worried about what to do. My initial plan was to move his bed, toys and water bowl into the bathroom and leave him there with the door closed overnight, but he couldn’t hack being separated from us for more than 30 seconds. He bawled his head off. Plus I felt bad, it had been a traumatic day for the poor little feller. Also, our neighbours would have us evicted and maybe even jailed. So we resorted to Plan B. We dragged his bed into the bedroom, the one room we vowed would be off-limits to the dog, and shoved it up against my side. In doing this, I decided, I could comfort him if he cried, plus he would be getting used to having his own bed, the one place a puppy apparently won’t soil. It was a genius plan, but since Milo is the most unpredictable person I’ve ever met, I expected it to fail.

But fail it didn’t! After half-heartedly trying to jump up on the bed a few times, Milo barely cried at all, he simply settled down and (mostly) slept through the night like a perfect little puppy. And the best part is he didn’t sneak out of bed to go elsewhere in the bedroom either. He held in his business! And when I took him out for a walk at 6am, he actually peed on the grass for the first time. Although, despite going on numerous walks today, he still generally prefers to evacuate on the beige carpet. He is a (very cute) work in progress.

 

Milo, and the way he might look at you. He likes to pee in his sleep. On the couch.

If you have any advice on house training a puppy, cut me some slack and share, won’t you?

 

Introducing…Milo

It finally happened: I got my puppy! His name is Milo, and when he’s not peeing like a racehorse, pooping or vomiting all over our beige carpets, he’s the best dog ever. And I’m not just saying that because he’s mine. He’s 1/4 pug, 1/4 beagle, 1/2 Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and 100% adorable. Wanna see a picture? Of course you do!