The Toileting Errors log that I posted on the refrigerator at the beginning of this year has been gathering dust. Dionne’s last transgression occurred on February 20, and that came right after she’d been with a puppy-sitter for several days, and we’d gotten out of touch with her digestive schedule. The log makes it clear that by the end of January, about seven weeks after I first picked her up in Oceanside, she was essentially house-trained.
We’re still quite conscientious about taking her out for toileting breaks every few hours; if we didn’t do that, we’re not at all sure she would be able to communicate to us that she needed to go out. But clearly, she’s gotten with the program. Or at least that particular program. And we’ve all but forgotten that just two and a half months ago, we were obsessed with her elimination successes and failures. We’ve forgotten all the moaning and swearing and moments of despair.
I haven’t kept any kind of a vomiting log, but I’m hoping that her problems in that realm will similarly vanish from memory. Indeed, I can’t exactly remember when she last threw up, but on the other hand, we’ve ruthlessly restricted her opportunities for eating garbage. We’ve been allowing her almost no time on her own outside.
Only in the past few days have I begun to let down my guard. I’ve permitted her to be out in the backyard on her own for 5 minutes here and there. I know she’s eating compost and palm tree seeds and various plants. (Sunday I found a bud that had been bitten off my rose bush and savaged, along with a murdered gerbera daisy.) She actually started making vomiting noises Monday night (right in the middle of our dinner hour.) But then she didn’t vomit. Progress!
I’m hoping she’s close to getting tired of eating garden junk; that soon that compulsion and its nasty consequences will become as much a thing of the past as her peeing in the house.
Then again, something else will probably come along to replace it. Here, for example, is what she looked like after 5 minutes of being on her own this morning:
|In case it’s not obvious, that’s dirt all over her muzzle. From digging.|