In fairness I had been warned. Google told me to expect potty training “your new puppy” to take up to 6 months with the odd accident after that. I vaguely remember being told never to use Google; it’ll have you dead in a half hour. Then I was told by two people that they potty trained their dogs in about three days. Yes! Something I can identify with. My kids were the same!!! All house trained in about the same time frame. I can work with that! So the first couple of days were nothing short of a shit fest. I may as well be honest about it. We knew our Juno was a lady puppy and if there were any doubts at all that she wasn’t a bitch, the morning after we brought her home, only proved it. We closed the sitting room door on her and retired for the night. I lay there in the dark and listened to the new baby howl and whine for a good twenty minutes. But I didn’t get up to her. Well, all the best baby trainers out there say you have to let them Cry It Out if you want to be the one in control, if you want your life back and not let the baby, sorry, animal, think they are the boss. All the best baby trainers out there are wrong! This lady puppy got her own back fair and square on her new owners for the overnight abandonment. There were mountains of steaming objections on the floor. Three of them if I remember correctly. And as if to drive her point home, lots of little puddles. Even the lads weren’t this bad on their first day of house training. But it was only the first night and Juno is damned cute, lucky for her, so I cleaned up the messes with just a touch of bad grace and gave her breakfast. The boys were great, Screecher Creature No. 1 in particular. No sooner had the puppy woken up from her many, many, many naps, (Jeebus, puppies sleep a lot!) and went on her little drunken, stumbling walk, he scooped her up and out to the garden where we watched and waited until wee’s were forthcoming. I swear Katie Taylor didn’t get such a thunderous reaction on her return home. And then it happened. The first time Juno woke up and went outside to relieve herself. With no scooping up, no crazed, panicked shouts of “Get the dog! Get the dog! She’s awake!” and no watching her like a hawk to see when she would squat. I was thrilled. There Google! Take that! You were wrong. It does only take three days. Ish. The accidents started to slow down. Even the night time ones. In our house the chances of a Lego injury are slim. It could happen, but it’s unlikely as the Screecher Creatures are terrified of the Bin Monster, their mother in clever disguise. Forget about a ILI (Identified Lego Injury) you are more likely to step in a warm puddle on a midnight trip to the bathroom with a sleepy three year old than walk on a lumpy bit of Lego. But now a little problem. There is a smell of shit about the place and I’m darned if I can find it. The lads are all big huge massive fans of being in their bare feet so it’s not on their shoes. The house has been hidden under a fug of Karvol for the last two days thanks to Screecher Creature No. 4 having a rotten summer cold. And I fear up to now, the Karvol has disguised the shitty smell. So it could be anywhere! Juno has also copped on to the fact that we have under floor heating. She ain’t no fool dog and is mighty fond of her creature comforts already. She has searched for and found her favourite hot spots in the house. That’s fine but stay the heck out of mine and Mister Husband’s bedroom. I do not want to do a Tom Cruise skid across the floor courtesy of a doggy doo present. The fact that the floor is hot also means the turd dries out in no time but leaves a stain if not caught quickly. And a smell. I cannot find the turd!!!!!!! It is driving me insane. House training three boys was never this hard despite all of my misgivings. I’m sure it will turn up, these things generally do. But now we’ve just been put on a gale force warning alert. The last few days in general haven’t been very good weather wise and as a result the back door is closed a lot. Juno cannot get out to relieve herself and hasn’t learned the art of whining. Whining and yelping when a 16 month old sits on you for shits and giggles does not count so my question is: how do you potty train a puppy in weather like this? There has been a complete, 100% reversal in the potty training today. It was an absolute wash-out of a disaster. There were little Mi Wadi coloured puddles everywhere! And I mean everywhere! If I hear, “Oh look, Mammy, Juno is doing her wee’s” one more time, I’ll piss on the floor myself out of temper. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Things I’ve learned since getting a dog: # I thought Mister Husband was the only living being that could fell an elephant at 10 paces by farting. I was wrong. Dogs are pretty foul too. # I heard somewhere sometime that dogs dream. Juno’s eyes play Saturday Night Fever when she’s asleep and she also yelps in a 70’s rhythm. # If it’s not tied down, puppies will have a go at it; “it” could be a shoe, a child’s ankle, foot or hand. Even a seated toddler’s ear. Our puppy likes skirting boards. # Puppies have no shame or taste buds. They can’t have – any creature that spends that much time cleaning their parts just can’t have. # Puppies get the hic-coughs. # They grow at a freakishly rapid rate. It’s lovely having a floppy puppy running down the hall to greet you. Not fun I’d imagine when she’s a full grown black lab. # They have a sly trick of looking all cute and puppy eyed and before you know it, snap! You’re hooked, you’re cooked, you’re caught in the tender trap.