Thursday, January 17, 2013

Bad Dog

The routine goes like this: boo and I are woken up by Harry around 6am (usually boo awakes because I sleep like a rock) and Harry is taken out for a potty break, then given freedom to roam.  Harry usually chews a bone and settles into the couch for another snooze.  Around 7am or so, Harry goes for a walk or a run with his Mom, gets lots of treats and then settles back into the couch for a snooze.  At 8:30, Harry is coaxed to his crate with toys and treats and he takes yet another snooze. 

Around lunchtime boo or I will go home and pay Harry a visit, give him a pee break, feed him lunch, and take him for a walk.  It's at this time that we've started to attempt the trust game with Harry.  He'll be in the crate half the day and the second half he can roam free.  We make sure we hide most valuable items just in case.

Harry proved he's not 100% trustworthy last night when I came home to his bed ripped to shreds all over the first floor.  He proudly trotted over the stuffing and shredded fabric as if they were surprise gifts to me.
When I didn't joyfully greet Harry or say much he started to get concerned.  "What?  Can't you appreciate my art?" he said with his eyes.  Then I saw that he had nibbled on a corner of the carpet as well.  "Harry," I said seriously, "you are a BAD dog".  He had ripped off the bottom lining of his bed and the inside stuffing that made it a cushion and spread the contents everywhere.  "Look Mom; look the bed still works, it's still a bed!" Harry pleaded as he crawled into his flattened donut.  But it was too late.  I had already decided he needed to be shamed.
After a tortuous and crazy lady lecture from me about how disappointed I was that Harry disobeyed my trust (yes, this really happened...I know he listens) Harry cowered into his deflated bed.  I changed into running clothes and started dinner, giving Harry ample time for a nice sulk.
Hopefully Harry has learned his lesson.  Before you pass judgement, his punishment was over when he let out a big disturbing fart after our run while sitting quietly waiting for me to take his leash off.  I'm a sucker for potty humor, and we spent the rest of the night posing like couch potatoes, watching Breaking Bad.

It just goes to show, Harry is still not an adult.  Although coming home to a big mess takes my breath away (not Top Gun style) it's really fun to look back at the pictures of it and laugh.  Bonus points for an "I'm sorry" toot afterwards.

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