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.