It’s easy to get smug when you’re raising a puppy like Beverly. She’s not yet 4 months old, and it had been weeks since she’d had any toileting accidents in the house. But this morning gave me a remedial lesson in something I learned long ago.
I was upstairs in my bathroom, getting dressed and ready to go out of the house. Beverly was hanging out in the adjoining room, when I heard the high-pitched squeak that’s the puppy’s distinctive cry. “Oh no!” I exclaimed. “You want to go out. I’ll be right there.”
But instead of immediately taking her downstairs and outside, I dallied for a long moment to collect my shoes. I emerged from my closet to see her squat down right in front of me and pee. She had clearly tried to tell me she needed to go out. But I ignored her — and paid the price.
I know we’ll get it together eventually. But sometimes I marvel at how dense these humans can be.