Since Tsunami’s injured herself (four weeks ago!), we’ve had to kennel her anytime we leave the house so that she would be forced to rest her leg instead of running around the backyard stalking birds and then scaring them off (for a bird dog, she doesn’t seem to understand that you can’t stand silently for 5 minutes and then run wildly at it and hope to come home with a tasty bird). As the weeks progressed she was less and less interested in spending all day in the kennel, and neither of us can really blame her. It got so bad that at night she would regress to her four-week old self and whine and whine and whine. And when we didn’t respond her whining, she would start barking and while I think we’d both like to teach her a lesson that barking does not yield results, we also had neighbors on both sides to worry about.
So at night we decided to leave the kennel door open and let her fall asleep anywhere in the room. Her bed stays in the kennel because we do want her to realize that it’s not a bad place to be. For the first week or so she barely stepped in the kennel and getting her to sleep through the night was still an issue because she can’t be adequately exercised if she can barely stand on her back leg. Yes, intimate moments were a little difficult. But gradually, she got used to the situation and realized that if she did step foot in the kennel we weren’t going to leap out of bed and slam the door behind her. Instead of pacing around the bedroom in the middle of the night, she would fall asleep on the floor and then move to the kennel and be find for the rest of the night.
Our next step is to open our bedroom door and give her access to the hallway, but she needs to get back to exercising first because there’s a floorboard in the hallway that she’s quite enamored with and has already left her mark and I’m not looking forward to any other areas like that.
Last night she went pretty quickly to the kennel and then woke up around 1 am and Wes took her outside to do her business and then brought her back inside where she settled in on her blanket next to Wes’ side of the bed. Some time after that she went back to the kennel, where she was at 3 am when I woke up to pee. As I’m peeing I hear Wes fling his body up from his sleeping position and yell, “Tsunami!” Usually this means she’s got her paws on the bed to see what’s going on, but I haven’t been able to hear her collar jingle so I’m a little worried about what’s going on. But instead of looking in the kennel, Wes’ storms into the bathroom, stomping the whole way to scare her from whatever she’s doing. Our bathroom is tiny and there’s certainly no room for a person to be in there and not realize that a dog is also in there.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought it was Tsunami,” Wes says and walks back to the bed.
“You thought I was Tsunami?”
“Yeah. First I thought she was drinking the toilet water and then I thought that she was peeing.”
“You thought Tsunami was peeing?”
“Yeah. I thought she might be putting her paws on the back of the toilet.”
I’m going to let the logistics of our puppy peeing in the toilet slide because it was 3 am and I’ve been known to say and do some pretty stupid things while I’m sleeping.