Timing = Everything
The dogs’ daily schedule begins with me waking up early, letting them out, going to the gym, coming back, walking them, feeding them, then walking to the hospital to selflessly battle various causes of pain and woe in the world, etc. When the weather is nice, as is luckily enough the case most of the time in the greater North Carolina metro area, I leave them outside to beat each other up and sprint hither and yon between the fenced boundary of the yard. I come home for lunch and there is much rejoicing. I come home later in the afternoon or early evening and there is again much rejoicing before they get yet another walk and more feeding. Everyone should have it so good.
The coming of the cold and wet season brings with it complications. When the rains come, the dogs spend the day inside. This is non-negotiable. They’re collies, which means that a) They don’t negotiate and b) It takes them about a fortnight to dry off, by which time not even the strongest aromatic candle can hope to rid the house of the stench of wet dog. When they stay inside, I at least have the common courtesy to turn NPR on while I’m gone because I want them to be informed, would like them to be able to carry on intelligent conversations over dinner or with other informed dogs. They seem to like it. At least they haven’t yet complained.
So, here’s the thing: When I let them out in the morning, I assume…ASSUME…that their digestive systems have wreaked havoc upon the unsuspecting Earth in whatever way necessary and that if Mother Nature demands that they be kept inside, no problem, there won’t be any ‘splosions. This generally hasn’t been a problem, but there have been times when I’ve been gone a little longer than usual while the dogs languished in a warm and safe house, with plenty of food and water, poor things, so neglected and abused with their pillows and blankets. In one of the rare instances when things went all pear shaped, the first night everything was OK, then the second night, I came back sort of expecting the worst and finding that nope, everything was OK again, no ‘accidents’. Then the third night I opened the door and the smell that hit me was epic. They had defiled one of the throw rugs in such a way that I took it out back and shot it, because there was no way I was going to be able to clean it. The only thing they didn’t do was dip their paws in the poo then write ANARCHY or REDRUM on the walls.
They were upset with my long absences. I guess. Which was flattering, I suppose, right up until I rolled up the carpet and shoved it in the trash. And lest anyone think that I beat them without mercy over their indiscretion, I assure you that I’m a much scarier calm person, so I very calmly dragged them over to ground zero and in a very HAL-from-2001: A Space Odyssey-voice said, ‘No’, then I dragged them outside and left them there for a couple days straight so they could think about what they’d done. Now I know what you’re thinking: ‘My what a witty fellow. And handsome!’ That’s true, but expecting dogs to think about what they’ve done works about as well as doing the same thing with children. You send a kid to his or her room to think and they end up reading a book or playing marbles or piercing body parts or whatever the hell today’s youth do instead of thinking. So, a couple days later, I let them back in, secure in the delusion that they’d learned whatever lesson they’d been taught by camping out for a couple nights.
Then last week the rains came in seemingly unending sheets for days. I still let them out and walked them when the weather let up a little, so there were plenty of opportunities for relief. The problem is that now when I leave them inside, there’s a significant portion of my brain that’s occupied with wondering if one of them has detonated. The nightmare scenario is that I’ll walk through the door and see one of them in the act, resulting in a lot of yelling and barking and running, sort of like this (from around minute 6:10 to 6:35), but lacking the destruction of a turkey. So, one day last week, I came back and found that Sophie had taken a dump on the hardwood floor where the rug used to be, apparently as an homage to their departed target. I knew it was hers because I know what their poop looks like (you envy me so hard right now). ‘Sophie’, I half whispered, which caused her to start pacing back and forth, crouching low and looking pathetic and guilty, before inexplicably CLIMBING UP ONTO THE COUCH WHERE SHE LAID DOWN EVEN THOUGH SHE KNOWS IT’S OFF LIMITS SWEET HOLY LORD. Hell, even Eli looked at her like, WTF.
The nutshell version of the rest of this story is that there was some screaming and some hand gestures and some more camping on the part of the dogs, but the real issue here is that it’s only November and there’s a lot of wet and cold days yet to manage. I know they can’t exactly control when their colon decides to pull the trigger and I empathize, I really do. I’ve tried to convince them to use the toilet, but they refuse, ingrates that they are. So, I dunno. Short of making them wear diapers, I doubt there’s an adequate answer.
Sir @ November 19, 2009
Can you wrap them in rain slickers or plastic wrap or something so they can be outside without getting wet? Or, heck, I dunno, maybe build them an awning of some sort? I mean, if you can cure cancer and stuff, surely you can swing a hammer? (I don’t know.)
I like when you write about your dogs. My roommate’s beagle, Bosco, likes to pee on my red rug when he’s mad that I won’t let him chew up CD cases and underwear and stuff. That thing goes in the washer at least once a week. Dogs are VINDICTIVE.
By leaving the dogs outside after the first rug incident, did you accidentally reward/reinforce the wrong behavior? Maybe instead of thinking “oh man, we’re outside ’cause we crapped on the rug. Boo!! Our bad!” they were thinking, “oh man, we’re outside ’cause we crapped on the rug. Yeah!! We’re defecating geniuses!” You could also try feeding them just once a day, in the evening, and giving them a light snack in the morning. Ask your vet for guidance.
Dogs will be destructive and chew because they are bored and lonely, and peeing for them is a way of marking territory (hence Bosco’s behavior described above when he was thwarted from expressing his ownership of the room and its contents by chewing on stuff); but they poop in the house because they couldn’t hold it until their owner/petsitter came home to let them out, not because they are trying to get back at you for some perceived slight.
As for the couch thing… I think Sophie was so freaked out because she knew she had done something that she wasn’t supposed to that she panicked and jumped on the couch (something they might do anyway when you’re not around to consistently enforce the rules, especially if the couch smells like you–that’s comforting to dogs). Our Siamese cat, Sophie, does the same thing when she’s freaked out– except in her case she jumps on the table, which is supposed to be totally off-limits. In her case, I think getting up off the floor makes her feel safer and better able to survey the scene, which calms her down. (An unrelated point: Siamese are very doglike little felines. They even often get along better with dogs than they do with other cats, which is something I find very strange.)
My suggestions:
1. Kitty litter
2. Shave them both and leave them outside
3. Doggy door
4. They got used to you coming home at lunch time and now they’re pissed that you make them wait foreverandeverandever amen. Doggy daycare/noon dog walker.
5. Get a cat. That might distract them for a while…
Embrace the poo. All of this negative energy is harshing their space, man.
I got nuthin for ya, my dog lives outside ’cause he acts like he would like to snack on the cats – if he ever caught one. His previous attempts put the turkey incident to shame.
Collies? Really? That’s like having giant, mutant pomeranians (rescue hounds, or not); taking them for a walk is tantamount to strutting down the walk with drag-queens on leashes. Drag-queens with hair extensions, no less.
Trade them both in on one good, loyal, manly dog like one of these guys. He’ll watch the homefront and kick the ass clean off any would-be intruders while your snarky little diva-hounds are hiding under the bed, whispering about how tacky the “bad man” is dressed.
YOU SAID: selflessly battle various causes of pain
My daughter suffers:
#1
What do you know about long term oral contraceptive use and the posibility of RA…?
#1.5
She had Kawasaki Disease when she was 3… and now at 30 she is suffering (last two years) with auto-immune disease…
You rebuilt your house, yes? You are a talented (and handsome?) guy. Build them a dog house, dummy.
Shari: I can definitely swing a hammer, but the awning isn’t really an option. I cleaned up the part of my back yard next to the house where I built the deck primarily to increase the amount of light allowed into the house, so adding an extension to the roof would be both counter-productive and, um, very ass pain-y.
Ashley: Clearly the answer is to simply buy more underwear. You can never have enough, anyhow.
J: I feel as though I should stress that my dogs are possibly the finest creatures on the planet (including humans). I know they know better than to drop massive loads of dung throughout the house. When I’m there, they come and find my when nature calls and it’s never a problem. I just found it psychologically fascinating that I left them home alone for a long periods of time for two days before they decided on the third to go ahead unleash hell on the carpet. And, yes, Sophie was clearly freaked out and probably scared. I’d probably jump on the couch, too, in her situation, as it’s incredibly comfortable.
Ms. Behavior: You started with kitty litter, then went right to the shavin’. That’s disturbing, but let’s move on. I’ve considered the doggy door, but it seems overwhelmingly energetically inefficient. And when the day comes that I have to hire someone to walk or play with the dogs, I’ll have attained a level of disinterested laziness that will require me to kick my own ass.
Bob: You should try to be more of a mediator trying to bridge the dog/cat divide. They might get along swimmingly with the right therapy.
Shady180: A pit bull brought up right is a truly spectacular dog, no doubt, but I dig the collies’ temperament and their intimidating ability to learn. Besides, I enjoy taking drag queens for walks.
Glorie:First of all, I’m not a doctor (MD) and have a couple years left for the PhD, so take all of the following with a grain or more of salt. I’m involved in biomedical research dealing with specific genetic mutations resulting in immune dysfunction. A very superficial reading on my part of some of the literature regarding Kawasaki Disease (KD) tells me that it’s tangentially related to similar autoimmune diseases such as lupus, in that lupus sometimes starts out as something relatively benign, certainly treatable, before possibly morphing into a more serious version (systemic lupus erythematosis) later. KD also appears to be the result of autoimmune disorder, which are primarily borne of genetic mutations resulting in altered cellular activity that effect a cascade of events meant to control how cells fight infection; in these cases, instead of fighting outside infection, the immune system fights the host. It’s really not very fair OR sporting.
Our mutated gene of interest encodes a protein, lack of or damage to which has been shown to cause inflammatory myocarditis and thrombosis in mice. It may or may not be a coincidence that KD sufferers exhibit similar cardiac-related issues as the result of their own immune disorder. While KD can be treated, it’s also known that other complications can result due to the stress on the system. The reasons healthy people are so resilient (an amazingly nimble immune system) are also the reasons that autoimmunity can be so devastating. The immune system learns over the years how to deal with certain pathogens. In the case of autoimmunity, the immune system treats the host as a pathogen and learns over time how to deal with the treatments being used to suppress this activity. To this point in history, the symptoms are treatable, but the causes aren’t (genetic mutations). We’re trying to discover ways to focus more closely on one particular known mediator of autoimmunity in order to better understand how to treat it on a larger scale. The trick is that in such a complex system where every role player is important, one little mutation in one little protein can impact everything.
As for the long-term oral contraceptives, I definitely can’t provide you any insight there other than to hand you a link to information that you have no doubt already found on your own.
http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/factsheet/Risk/oral-contraceptives
It’s highly likely that you already knew all of the above, or at least most of it, to one degree or another. All that I can tell you is that I’m involved in research concerning autoimmune disorders and that we’re making significant progress. The frustrating thing about biomedical research is that patience is a virtue which both we in the field and those suffering with the disorders have no choice but to submit. I am sorry about your daughter’s situation, but I hope that you might both take whatever little comfort can be found in an assurance from a very small fish in very big pond that highly capable people are working very hard on her behalf.
Alli: I’ll refer you to my answer to Shari involving ass pain. It would have to be a pretty big house to comfortably ‘seat’ both of them and that’s assuming that they’d even use it. If I were to build them a house that they never used, I’d be forced to start beating them for their insolence, which would be sad on too many levels to think about and nullify pretty much every good thing I’ve ever done, period.
Back to plastic wrap then, I guess. They’re going to be SO embarrassed! And though it’s evil, I love to watch an embarrassed dog or two, so I’m going to pop some popcorn and grab a beer. Please, please, please put the video on YouTube after you’ve plasticized them. Thanks. ;)
Hey do you know we are out here waiting… and you haven’t posted anything since like November 19th…
What da heck are you doing???? Living your life without even thinking about us???
I’m gonna sit here and hold my breath till you post….
I’m somewhat surprised that no one suggested this, although knowing your readership, doubtless they were having too much fun at your expense to bother actually thinking up a practical solution.
I salute them.
But since I also kind of dig you (and your dogs), I’d like to help. You need to speak with an animal behaviorist. NOT an “animal psychologist”; there aren’t words sufficient to describe my opinion of people who project human emotions and motivations on animals. I’ll just go with “dumbfuck”, and move on.
Anyway, like I said: Hie thee to an animal behaviorist. Your vet can probably recommend one, if they don’t already work with one. The AB can talk to you about what you can do to alter their behavior in humane ways. It may come down to the simple fact that they can’t “hold it” that long on the days you’ve come home to messes, but I’d be shocked if the AB didn’t come up with some ideas that nip the behavior in the bud. Good luck!