When Housetraining Goes Awry

Please pardon my grammar if it's even more off than normal today, but I'm a tad frazzled. For the past 48 hours, I've been engaged in an activity that's both joyous and scream-into-a-pillow frustrating: housebreaking a dog. And I bought not one, but two springer pups. As if I thought one would be just too easy.

How big a chore is housebreaking two pups at once? I'd rate it somewhere between forced labor and listening to Nicki Minaj sing. My sister in-law claims that getting my nephew to sleep through the night was more difficult, but last I checked he never chewed the furniture or soiled her best tennis shoes. Perhaps he was crate trained.


What I do know is that since their arrival two days ago, Junior and Cash have caused mayhem. They've repeatedly peed on my floor, apparently preferring to go inside where it's warm rather than outside during their 30-minute run. They've munched a hole in the floor of their crate. They've chased the neighbor's cat (okay, that was actually pretty awesome). And while Cash, the black/white, is quiet as a mouse, Junior's shrill barks threaten to ruin the only good ear I've got left. It's as if they're in cahoots, constantly plotting the next strike.


But the little rascals have also weaseled their way into my heart the way no other creature on earth can. It's a delight watching them chase mallard feathers blowing in the wind across my lawn. They also have a knack for taking a running start and leaping in tandem onto my lap—who cares if they bite my shirt after a feat like that? And, well, just look at the photo above of their favorite sleeping position.

Seems to me that the reason we endure the burden of housetraining is because our dogs are worth it. (Would anyone buy a kitten if it required such attention?) So, make no mistake: I may be tired, but this is a very special time in my home. That "new puppies" kind of special. Yeah I'm tired, yes my patience has been tried, but darned if I don't feel extremely fortunate to have a couple pups running around destroying my carpets.

Gene Hill put it best: Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot little puppies.

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