The last several days in Florida has been freezing, toe-numbing-blue-nailed cold. Something I’m not used to but accept because its better than humidity equals heat equals melted make-up and bad hair days (sweaty armpits). But, my one dog on the other hand has a difference of opinion(wished I had a picture of him…posted a look a-like from the web).
My older dog is a Chinese Crested Powder Puff. He’s fancy and fluffy like the above picture. White, too. A bit of a priss ball and prances when he walks. Doesn’t care much for the outdoors. Summer, Fall, Winter, or Spring. Primping with the brush and getting his belly rubbed is his thing or hanging out on his bed with his blankie. Sometimes he can be found at my feet while I pound the keyboards.
Ten years ago when I brought him home, six cats greeted him and showed him the ropes. They taught him to clean his face, jump and walk on counters, hang out on window sills, lounge on the backs of couches, and when mom goes night-night, to find his rightful place on top the dining room table. They also taught him, the litter box was the proper toilet for all cats, this included him.
Yes, my friends I have a dog that used the cat box. Notice I’m using past tense here.
About five years ago when my daughters, one by one, left the nest so did a cat. One at a time. When the cats were gone, bye-bye went the stinky cat box. And well, guess who had to use the toilet outside. This didn’t go well.
Have you ever seen a dog try to pee with all four legs in the air? My dog hates grass. Dry grass. Wet grass. Hot grass. Cold grass. Especially frozen grass.
Well, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday morning his little feet received a cold greeting. Monday and Tuesday his pee warmed the grass but later that day my bare feet received a warm greeting in the middle of the night(had to go pee myself…the cold does that to me). Thought I’d pee myself when the warm goo squished between my toes and the rancid scent wafted to my nose.
Four times within forty-eight hours he left me these warm welcomes in different spots. The master bath. The laundry room. The upstairs hallway. And, No-No’s bathroom.
By Wednesday, I’d had it and we had a Jesus-meeting. Me and him. Eyeball to eyeball.
“Come here,” I said.
His tail went between his legs and he lowered his head tip-toeing to the refuge of his bed and blankie. The stinker knew what he did. Dogs aren’t dumb. Don’t let them fool you. It’s all an act.
I followed him with the leash and plopped beside his bed. “You know you’ve been naughty. You’re a Sir Poops-a-Lot. Not my Baby. My Baby wouldn’t do that.”
He blinked his eyes and let out a sigh.
I hooked his leash to his collar. “We’re going outside and your pooping out there. If you don’t poop you don’t come inside until you do. Got it?”
I put his furry coat on him and outside we went.
Since Wednesday Sir Poops-a-Lot a/k/a Baby has been going outside. He’s the fastest pooper in town now. Yes siree Bob! A fast and speedy pooper he’s become. Twice a day, too.