Pooping in PetSmart

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“Who me?”

I have a love-hate relationship with my dog. Most of the time he’s adorable and his goofy personality makes me laugh. I mean, when you watch an eighty pound German shepherd act like a goof ball how can you not laugh, right?

There are other times when I question why we have a dog at all. Case in Point: Last week Noodge 3 (as I lovingly refer to him.  a.k.a. Munson) was in much need of a bath. He’d had an ear infection and after several weeks of shoving antibiotic fluid into his ear the fur on the side of his face had clumped together. (We often tried to clean the fur with baby wipes, but Munson is a long haired shepherd making the process much harder. That and he wanted to eat the wipes right out of our hands.)

Off to PetSmart for a bath! He loves getting a bath, though he doesn’t like the dryer and has to air dry and the wonderful people who work at our local PetSmart love Munson. Come on, how can’t you love a goofy, eighty pound, fluffy dog? It’s impossible.

After the bath, the Coffee King thought it would be fun to walk Munson around the store, check out some of the toys. I guess CK was thinking Munson would bark at the ones he liked best and we’d buy it. Kind of like when we took the kids to the toy store before they could speak.

Munson is easily excited. A little fun fact about German shepherds. They have a sensitive stomach. It was too much excitement for Munson. (Or someone gave him a treat we didn’t approve.) Because right in the middle of the toy aisle with absolutely no warning Munson took a squat!

It might not have been the end of the world except I’ve never seen anything so liquid puddling all over the floor in a store and coming out of the back end of my freshly cleaned dog.

I ran for help.

I found a woman on a ladder stocking shelves. I said, “My dog just had an accident.”

She pointed over my head and said, “the cleaner is over there. Do you see it?”

Uh…NO! You’re standing three feet above my head. Pointing in a general area doesn’t equal good directions. Anyway, because I’m smarter than I look, I found it. And here comes CK with the dog. “I’m taking him outside.”

And leaving me with the eruption is aisle four? You betcha.

What choice did I have? Did I really want to leave Lake Erie for someone to step into? Yes. But I didn’t. I grabbed several tiny, one-ply paper towels (more like cocktail napkins), an equally small garbage bag (think Ziploc sandwich bag) and the cleaner and went to battle.

The paper towels were useless and required fifty trips back and forth to gather enough to do any good. As soon as I put one down it was soaked through and there was no way on this planet I was touching anything that looked or smelled like that paper towel had become. The trick was how to shove the gigantic wad of wet, smelly paper towels into the sandwich bag without touching anything and hold my wallet under my arm without dropping it in the sewer. (Wallet is too large to shove in a pocket and I couldn’t put it down for fear while I was drowning in the polluted lake (not implying Lake Erie is polluted by the way) someone would come along and swipe it up.

No one came to help me. No one asked if I was all right. No one brought me a mop which I desperately needed. On one of my trips back for more paper towels another employee (and no one from the grooming center) said to me, “Make sure you throw that outside.” In the kind of voice that suggested I coerced my dog into defecating in her store. In fact, I make a career of doing just that thing. Haven’t you heard of it? Pooper Plopper. I’m very successful.

I managed to clean it up and break a sweat. You really can burn calories in all amazing ways. I scrubbed my hands and threw out the eruption in the inside garbage can, hee hee. Went outside to find CK and Munson doing laps in the parking lot. Munson no worse for wear. Me, trembling, disgusted, and questioning my sanity when I said hands clapping, “Yes, let’s get a dog! What fun!”

 

 

 

 

More Stubborn Than My Dog

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Stubborn and untrainable. No wait. That’s me. But not me in the picture. At least not after I shave. 

I’m going to be honest here, so please don’t hold it against me. I’m one of those people who love their own children, but not all children. And I like/love my dog, but not other people’s dogs. Honestly, there’s plenty of adults I don’t like either. If I’m going to be honest I might as well get it all out. But I digress. And so soon.

We’re in the middle of dog training. Munson is two and he needs some tweaking. Well, it’s really me that needs tweaking. I know how this dog training business works. You’re really training the human. Munson and I have had our share of problems in the past year. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s say I wasn’t exactly thrilled with him either. Are we noticing a pattern here? I’ve always said the Coffee King is nicer than I am. Anyway, back to the point.

Dog Training. It’s overwhelming. Have you done it? The trainer comes to our house and shows us what to do. He makes it look so easy. I have to keep reminding myself he has over twenty years experience. It’s kind of like when I read a Stephen King novel and then wonder why I bother to write at all. I suck compared to King and the dog trainer. Has King written a book about a dog trainer? Well, he wrote a book about a possessed dog. I should check that out again. I’ll feel better about Munson. He’s not possessed. At least I don’t think so.

When the trainer leaves and I’m left alone with the dog all the things I’m trying to stop happen again. It’s like the dog knows to behave in front of guests, but the minute the guest leaves, ka-bam! Trouble.

I repeat to myself the cues like “eyes on your dog.” I start the process of “go to, sit, and down” over until he listens so he knows I’m not giving up until he does what I say. Guess what? He’s not giving up either. One stubborn husband and two stubborn children weren’t enough. Oh, no. I had to get a stubborn dog too! Does everyone have to have a mind of their own? Can’t he just listen to me?

The trainer says I’m better than I think. I don’t believe him. That feeling of “I can’t do this” creeps up my spine the second I take the leash. How am I suppose to get him to follow me around the yard when all he wants to do is eat bugs and the leash? The dreadful feeling of incompetence reminds me of when I first became a parent and had to bathe Noodge 1. If it wasn’t for my mother, he’d still be dirty. All right, that’s not funny considering his age. He would’ve been dirty for the first three years. How’s that? Better?

I have to admit, it’s pretty cool when I tell Munson to “got to the desk” and he knows exactly where that is. At moments like that I think maybe I can do this dog training thing. Maybe he and I will get to a compromise we can live with: I’m the pack leader and he’s the soldier. I understand this. Why can’t he?

I guess like everything, all in good time. Some day I’m going to learn patience. In the meantime, I have to be more stubborn than my dog.

Do you have any dog training tips? Please share. Munson really wants to learn.