Thursday, June 7, 2012

Rainy Day with the Goldendoodle

First of all, I had a rather pleasant post all prepared with cuddly photographs for today, but after yesterday's notable incident, that post was massively overshadowed by this dark and dismal one.

Since we brought Milton the goldendoodle home last Friday, Jeff and I have prided  ourselves on the fact that Milton has only gone #1 in the apartment.  We think he is so polite, conscientious, and well mannered that he innately knows that making a bowel movement inside is extremely uncouth and will offend his parents.  We rationalize that urinating inside is simply not his fault because his little bladder can only hold a teeny, tiny amount. 

As the stay at home parent for the summer, I took the lead on Project Potty Training for our new dog.  Potty training is incredible "unfun" and requires an immense amount of supervision, effort, and pure willpower.  In order to be properly housebroken, puppies need to be watched constantly.  You can never turn your back, even for a second, which has led to a lot of stress and paranoia on my part.  We have baby gated off the kitchen and bathroom, and keep the guest bedroom door closed, so that we eliminate his ability to wander off into a dark corner.  New puppies typically feel the urge to relieve themselves after a nap, meal, or playtime, also every hour on the hour.  So, basically that is all day, every day, the total day.  We live on the third floor of our apartment complex, so it has been a lot of hot hoofing.  I average about fifteen trips up and down those stairs everyday.

Carefree, silly Milton down by the pool, not at all worried about his potty training progress.

So, what is our strategy?  How do we hope to quell the beast?  I watch Milton constantly.  Any sign of excretion - pacing, sniffing the floor, walking in circles, or an erect tail is automatic cause for expulsion from the house.  The only time our apartment is safe from the potential for disaster is the 45 minutes after Milton returns from a trip outside or when he is taking his usual, long siesta on the tile by the front door. Other than that, I am all over him like a bad itch.  By day's end the dog cannot wait for his daddy to get home, so his crazy mom will get off his back.  I have even heard Jeff admiringly boast to our friends, "Heidi is like a hawk when it comes to the potty training." Secretly, I take pride in this lofty compliment; however, yesterday my hawk eye was cloudy.

Yesterday afternoon, it thundered, it lightninged, and it poured.  Did I want to go out there?  Frankly, no.  Was I a little lax on the hourly potty schedule?  Perhaps yes, but it is questionable.  After Milton woke from another one of his epic naps, we quickly charged out for a fast #1 and retreated.  After that (I blame the rain), we were at each other's throats - Milton nibbling on our couch and nipping my legs, while I sprayed Grannick's Bitter Apple (taste deterrent for dogs) to quench the biting and dissipate the escalating tensions.  When I humbly told Milton, I would fix his dinner and walked into the adjacent room, what do I turn to see but this:

Dirty dog

I know it's vile.  I know it's foul.  I know some of you are wondering why I would post such a picture on the World Wide Web.  Well, you need to understand the gravity of the situation.  I was incredibly dismayed.  The day before we had ZERO accidents.  Not a droplet or a drop to be found.  Why now this?  From the trail he left, it seems to have been done in haste. This leads me to think it was out of spite, but I can never know for sure. 

Well, I gave my usual scream of "No, no, no," grabbed Milton, and dashed for the door.  Of course, I needed to stop to shove his little nose at our potty bell, we hope one day he will ring on his own, and frantically ran down the stairs chanting my usual mantra of "Milton goes potty outside.  Milton goes potty outside."  I am certain that by now every person in our apartment building knows Milton's name and that "Big boys potty outside, not in."

Of course with the rain, Milton had to make the most of it galloping up grassy inclines and somersaulting into mud puddles.  So his poor mother not only had to clean his poop but the dirty dog as well.

Wet rat

Escape attempt

After the scary bathtub ordeal was over, and Milton had been toweled off, he was quite contrite.  Well, actually he was sweet as pie.

Milton squeezed in and cuddled up on my feet while I was cooking dinner.

So, are we dropping him off at the pound tomorrow?  Will we beseech the breeder to take him back, or beg one of you to adopt?  No, we are still crazy in love with our Milt.  Did he later that night piss on our carpet?  Yes.  Every day is a journey.  At least he gives me something to write about.


  1. Haha, this is just too funny. Poor Milton, and poor Mommy!

  2. Awe Milton. I'm sure the weather threw him off. My dogs get a lot of anxiety during bad storms. With a little more training he'll be in a regular routine especially as his bladder matures.

  3. I remember these days... it will get better! :)