You knew it was coming, my talking about How Tiny Dog Poops
Inside. It’s unavoidable. But if you are not up for the overtly scatological,
please skip ‘til next time. No hard feelings.
Here's a cute picture to smooth/tide things over:
As hard as I
try to prevent this, a couple of times a week my bare skin touches a dog turd,
Tiny Dog’s digestive indoor comment about the snow outside. Either I am stingy with the size of the poop
vehicle, toilet paper, or the deposit is larger and more gravity prone than
anticipated.
Today was a
big one: four times I found piles that one really thinks should be smaller
seeing her miniscule bone structure. But we accidentally fed her two
breakfasts, sneaky beggar!, and what goes in, must come out. Sue calls her the
Barbershop Pumper, the 70’s Playdoh toy where doh came out the head. Tiny Dog
is like this but in reverse.
When Chibi was about to move in, her foster mom beamed how well C
was paper trained. I smiled, but inside
screamed: gross!never!dealbreaker! Our
cats had passed away so we did not have any indoor pet elimination happening at
our house right then, and I did not miss the litter even a little. But then my
heart went into denial: It’ll be fine, I can retrain her, Look how adorable she
is. Well, you better watch where you walk, lady. I am not kidding.
This is my life now: piddle pads and Nature’s Miracle enzymatic
cleaner. She can occasionally be tricked into going outside if another small
dog is enthusiastically headed out to pee.
But you have to catch her before a rug or pad has a quick deposit. The fancy woven wool rugs went into the
attic, the bedroom carpet got thrown out.
I finally gave up this winter, bought washable pads to coax her in
the right and slightly less horrifying direction. Thank god she’s so darn cute
and sweet.
Here’s Tiny’s Dog’s motto:
Here’s a recent gravity defying statement:
Sorry. I really am.
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