January 26, 2003
10:00 a.m.
My neighbourhood is an interesting place at Midnight. And 1:30 a.m. And 3:00 a.m. And 4:30 and 5:00 a.m. We were in and out all night, but she didn't actually decide to go pee until 4:30 and poo had to wait until 5:00, after she'd eaten a bowl of kibble. I'm tired.
All of this practice was good for something though: as I was making the bed, I heard her scrambling around in the kitchen. She was whining. I rushed out to see what she was up to and found her at the door. I scooped her up and took her outside. She peed and then went poo! Good Dog!
1:00 p.m.
Before I get too smug about it, I should confess that she *did* have an accident last night in her kennel. She was whining and as I was getting her out of the kennel, she started leaking all over her dog bed and blanket. I took her outside, but to no effect. I put the dog bed in the wash.
She just peed on our last trip out. With the cold temperatures we're having, she doesn't waste any time. As soon as she's done, she begs to go inside.
I introduced her to one of the neighbours and a little girl in the park. The child was entranced with the puppy and I let her hold Dusty. I need to do a lot more of that as I begin to socialise her.
4:00 p.m.
Houston, we have a problem. It's cold out there. It's so cold, in fact, that Dusty doesn't want to go potty outside. We nearly had an accident just minutes after we'd been out (notice how I'm already using the Queen's 'We', as if I was squatting right along with her...).
I think this -24 windchill may be her limit (and it's supposed to be -30 without the windchill by tomorrow morning). When I set her down, she starts crying and shaking. She'll try to stand on my boots, but if I make her get off them, she sits and shakes, lifting her feet one at a time like she's marching. I think she's complaining about the snow.
She's in the crate right now and I'll take her out again in a little while.
7:00 p.m.
Yet another entry in the potty-log: I took her out every 45 minutes or so, with no progress. She just sat on her haunches and looked up at me with that sad-puppy-look. At 6:30, we went out and she watched passing cars and pedestrians with great interest, but didn't seem interested in sniffing around. I fed her and took her back out. She promptly, and with little ceremony, relieved herself.
Anyone who saw me praising this dog must have thought she had just won the puppy Oscar or something. She received liver treats and I told her for at least three minutes what a WONDERFUL dog she was. (And she is - she's playing with her toys and being absolutely adorable.)
Sheesh, this has to get easier, right?!