Lessons

I took two days off from work to help our little bundle adjust to life with her new pack. At the risk of sounding silly, I was nervous.  This was only the second puppy I’d ever had in my whole life and I was completely responsible for this “clean slate” and making sure she became well trained and a dog that others enjoyed being around.  I had to make sure she got the right amount of exercise, mental and physical.  I had to keep her healthy and happy for, hopefully, the next twenty years.  It seemed to be a daunting responsibility.  Little did I know what Vixen had in store for me.

House training a dog can wear down even the most excited dog owner. Those little bladders can only hold so much.  The good thing is that potty habits are easy to predict for the most part.  Every time the dog eats or wakes up from a nap it will have to go to the bathroom – immediately! If a dog plays hard, it will have to go to the bathroom.  If a dog gets the “zoomies”, you can rest assured that at some point during the “zoomie”, the dog will pause, squat and pee. A dog who is not being watched will pee.

Every morning the alarm would buzz and I bounded out of bed, rushing at the first note from the radio alarm clock to the back yard with Vixen where I would give the command, “go potty” and then cheer like a banshee when she did.  This delight in her potty habits rewarded me with an excited, proud little bundle dancing around my legs. 

“I peed!  I peed, Mom! I’m such a good girl!”

Then, because puppies aren’t the only ones who have to go to the bathroom as soon as they wake up, we’d turn around and sprint to the bathroom with me calling, “My turn!” where Vixen would supervise my morning pee. She didn’t, however, get as excited about that as she did that it meant we would then be heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

All the literature on border terriers will tell you that they are extremely food motivated. This is an understatement. Border terriers live to eat, it seems. If a border terrier does not have an appetite, you can rest assured that it is either sick or very abnormal. Vixen could scarf her breakfast down in record time. This then meant another trip to the back yard for another “potty celebration”.

I have since learned that those little toys that hold kibble and require the dog to “work” to get the kibble out so they can eat are the most valuable inventions ranking right up there with the wheel and coffee makers. Border terriers can still work those toys like nobody’s business and it doesn’t take long for them to empty the toy, but it does buy some time for making my own coffee before the demand for a rousing game of fetch is bouncing between my feet.

After scarfing down breakfast, Vixen would follow me around the house like a shadow until I was ready to leave for work. She was fascinated with the shower, but not fascinated enough to enter the shower.  She’d poke her head in while I was showering and wait for me to put a foot out where she would then lick the water from my ankle and then look up at me as if asking for the next leg.  After drying the leg first I would then put my other leg out for the same tongue inspection.  This is how Vixen acquired the first of many nick-names.  “Inspector” was her persona anytime we were in the bathroom together. She inspected the ankles for cleanliness, the cabinets for toilet paper, the garbage can for empty toilet paper rolls or something else to play with, the shower for, well, I don’t know what she was looking for in the shower since she wouldn’t ever set foot in it….

Before leaving for work I’d put her in her crate, as we’d decided to crate train Vixen. She’d look at me with those huge, watery brown eyes and whine and whine and whine. Then she’d bark, obstinance reverberating in her whole body, ordering me to let her out of that metal prison.

This, I learned, is where buying an AKC registered dog from a responsible breeder comes in handy. I don’t know if there is already a patron saint of patience, but if either Teri or I were Catholic, I’d certainly nominate her for the title. This was only the first of many frantic calls to her about what turned out to be the most insignificant thing.

“Teri, I’m so upset.  There’s this problem.  Vixen hates the crate.  She’s threatening to turn me in for puppy abuse.”

“Tough love, Sonya.  You’re doing the right thing and it’s the safest place for Vixen to be when you’re not home.”

“But Teri, she’s whining and barking and I feel so bad.”

“She’ll get used to it.  I promise.  One day that will be her preferred place to rest. You’re being responsible by crate training her.”

We didn’t really question Teri.  She has so much experience and breeders like Teri take a great interest in their litters.  She is just as concerned about the safety, health and happiness of her puppies as the owners of those puppies. Teri said to do it, all the training material I read said to do it. I wanted Vixen to be safe and my carpet clean and dry so I toughed it out and, much to my surprise, Vixen did get used to it and now she can be found on lazy afternoons curled up in her crate.