It has been an eventful (and unexpected) weekend.
I was in the Dismal Dowdy Doldrums over my lack of progress in potty training Sally the Dog on Saturday.
I had the Blue Bag Blues and was struggling with adopters remorse. (and the leftovers of a mild case of the flu)
I went to bed that evening wondering if I was going to have to giver her away.
I do not want a yard dog.
If our lives together are going to evolve into me in the house and her in the yard, then I do not want her.
I don't need a yard dog.
I need (or rather, want) a friend, companion, and good listener.
I don't need a yard trophy.
I already have a stuffed dog.
And it does not eat. (or poop)
Sunday, I let Sally in for a few minutes in the evening while I prepared her dinner, just to demonstrate that I hold no grudge for past transgressions.
Being ever watchful and suspicious of her every move and sniff, I soon caught her sniffing around the back door, so I opened the door and let her exit.
Lo and behold, she went out onto the grass and did her little squat with little fanfare.
I was pleased, to say the least.
So pleased, that I immediately opened the door and invited her into the house again with multiple praises.
This was a mistake – mostly in timing.
I returned to food prep while Fuzzy Nose scampered about and squeaked in anticipation of impending satiation.
But in just a minute or so, Sally had disappeared again.
It took me a few seconds to realize that she was gone and when I went to investigate, I found that she was at the back door again.
I let her out again and in another lo and behold, she sniffed around in the grass and then did her other business.
I was thrilled and chastened for my impetuousness.
When she was finished, I allowed her back inside for a few minutes while I finished her meal prep and while I ate mine.
Then I let her out for the evening – which she seems to like.
Which leads us to this morning.
I saw Sally soon after she emerged from her den under the utility building, still too groggy doggy to do much but sit and sniff.
It was about 7 AM.
Having finished my Monday morning workout, I was ready to eat and I was certain she was, too.
When I went outside to get her dish – which stays in her mostly unused dog house - she came over to me.
I told her to go pee.
She looked at me for a moment (her usual manner) then trotted off a few paces and squatted.
I was pleased, astounded, amazed and other such things at the over-night brilliance of my dog.
With that, I let her in the house.
While I began her food prep I kept an eye on her as she sniffed around the house to check if anything was new (I guess...).
After a few minutes she was at the back door, so I let her out.
She went into the grass and squatted again.
I refrained from opening the door again and watched as Sally the (now BRILLIANT) Dog sniffed around in another area of the grass and soon did her other business.
I could hear the trumpets playing a fanfare.
I opened the back door and invited my miraculously rehabilitated dog back into the house with many praises (most of which are likely unintelligible to her yet).
In summation, we had an “uneventful” morning visit before I let her out to play, while I cleaned up the house.
This relationship may work out after all....