I knew having a puppy would be a tremendous amount of work but I felt I was prepared for what was to come. I had been reading extensively on how to train a puppy for quite some time and was determined to have the “perfect” puppy. Cesar Milan’s book told me it was possible and I believed it.
It is generally a mistake to go against your gut feeling and this was not any different. The pet store had persuaded me in to buying an exercise pen which could turn in to a crate instead of the crate I planned on purchasing. This crate had no top and no bottom. Charlie HATED being in there with a passion and would either scoot it around the apartment or attempt to knock it over. I had no choice but to leave him for a few hours so that I could go to work. I had knots in my stomach the entire time I was away. A puppy cam would have been clutch at that moment! I never could have foreseen what I experienced when I came home. Charlie had pooped (very softly I might add since he was on wet food) and then moved the crate around the kitchen; successfully smearing his poop all over the floor, himself, and the crate. There was no possible way for me to get to him without walking on poop. Of course out of excitement to see me (I am sure it could have been anyone at this point) he jumped up and placed his poop covered paws all over my work dress. I grabbed him and ran him to the bathtub where I spent 30 minutes trying to rid him of poop. Once he was clean I walled off the kitchen as best I could and placed him in the living room so that I could clean the kitchen floors.
In .5 seconds Charlie had successfully managed to tackle the barrier, run through the poop and hump my leg. My breaking point was met at this moment and I broke down in tears. Who was I kidding to think I could handle this? Was everyone right in telling me it would be too much? No, I was not going to let them say, "I told you so" especially not within 24 hours. I regained composure, bathed him once again, cleaned the kitchen floor and ran to Petco in my poop covered dress. I purchased the crate that I should have to begin with along with odor killing spray, chew toys galore, grooming wipes, dog gates and found a little bit of composure along the way.
Getting Charlie in the new crate was extremely difficult at first but I knew that once inside I had to teach him that this was his space and place of comfort. I would put him in at small intervals and not let him out until he stopped whining so as not to enforce the behavior. He successfully slept a solid 4 hours before waking me up.
In the remaining hours before bringing Charlie back to Le Petit (the store we purchased him from) for his Christmas stay he did a complete 180 flip in behavior. Somehow in a matter of 12 hours he had completely stolen my heart. I dropped him off at Le Petit (in his new Pajamas (seen above) which I spent way too much money on but was frantic in an effort to keep him warm) with tears in my eyes. Parting with him was difficult but I also felt fortunate for the time away. I needed the time to regroup and game plan for his return; so I grabbed my Cesar Milan book and headed off to Florida.
It is generally a mistake to go against your gut feeling and this was not any different. The pet store had persuaded me in to buying an exercise pen which could turn in to a crate instead of the crate I planned on purchasing. This crate had no top and no bottom. Charlie HATED being in there with a passion and would either scoot it around the apartment or attempt to knock it over. I had no choice but to leave him for a few hours so that I could go to work. I had knots in my stomach the entire time I was away. A puppy cam would have been clutch at that moment! I never could have foreseen what I experienced when I came home. Charlie had pooped (very softly I might add since he was on wet food) and then moved the crate around the kitchen; successfully smearing his poop all over the floor, himself, and the crate. There was no possible way for me to get to him without walking on poop. Of course out of excitement to see me (I am sure it could have been anyone at this point) he jumped up and placed his poop covered paws all over my work dress. I grabbed him and ran him to the bathtub where I spent 30 minutes trying to rid him of poop. Once he was clean I walled off the kitchen as best I could and placed him in the living room so that I could clean the kitchen floors.
In .5 seconds Charlie had successfully managed to tackle the barrier, run through the poop and hump my leg. My breaking point was met at this moment and I broke down in tears. Who was I kidding to think I could handle this? Was everyone right in telling me it would be too much? No, I was not going to let them say, "I told you so" especially not within 24 hours. I regained composure, bathed him once again, cleaned the kitchen floor and ran to Petco in my poop covered dress. I purchased the crate that I should have to begin with along with odor killing spray, chew toys galore, grooming wipes, dog gates and found a little bit of composure along the way.
Getting Charlie in the new crate was extremely difficult at first but I knew that once inside I had to teach him that this was his space and place of comfort. I would put him in at small intervals and not let him out until he stopped whining so as not to enforce the behavior. He successfully slept a solid 4 hours before waking me up.
In the remaining hours before bringing Charlie back to Le Petit (the store we purchased him from) for his Christmas stay he did a complete 180 flip in behavior. Somehow in a matter of 12 hours he had completely stolen my heart. I dropped him off at Le Petit (in his new Pajamas (seen above) which I spent way too much money on but was frantic in an effort to keep him warm) with tears in my eyes. Parting with him was difficult but I also felt fortunate for the time away. I needed the time to regroup and game plan for his return; so I grabbed my Cesar Milan book and headed off to Florida.
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