Na'ilah, you have betrayed me.
I trusted you. I made excuses for you.
I gave you too much space in my heart.
This morning I get up to find the following note from Roz:
Yeah so I turned my back ~20 seconds last nite with the gate down & Na'ilah peed on the new rug. It is outside having been doused with Nature's Miracle (could probably use more). I'll try to deal with it tomorrow when I get up. Sorry, --Roz
Two days ago there was a Na'ilah-sized wet area on the living room rug, 9 ft. x 6 ft. The first time ever, but Gracie and Stormy had pee'd on the rug, so it was a lost cause. Several times before I had had it cleaned and treated for pet odor at $100 a crack.
The last time I had bought a new area rug, which I kept in the garage for just such an occasion as this. Out with the old, in with the new.
From August through December, Na'ilah had never emptied her bladder in the house. She seemed to know she was on probation.
Gracie Giselle, the chihuahua, lives indoors and regularly makes small mistakes all over the house, though she uses pee pads 90% of the time.
Stormy, the corgi, regularly pees anywhere she smells Gracie's urine. It's probably a reflex action without much frontal cortex involvement. (Do dogs have a frontal cortex?)
Outdoors, Na'ilah and Stormy immediately copy each other on the exact spot the other has used, but Na'ilah never did this indoors until lately.
Since January, on three occasions we have found pee pads so soaked that Na'ilah had to have used them. They're only 22 inches x 22 inches, so her cup or two of urine always runs off onto the floor.
Nevertheless, all was forgiven: she had desperately searched for the right place to do this and had succeeded.
Using the brand new rug as her bathroom, however, changes everything. It feels like a personal assault.
I don't want this dog. Why did I add another dog to my life? What was I thinking?
I can live with the cost of cancer treatment and the cost of surgery for the cat she bit, but her choice to unload urine on the brand-new living room rug suddenly moves me past some internal limit of tolerance.
I won't drive her to the animal shelter, but I find myself detached.
Food, shelter, but no love.
I trusted you. I made excuses for you.
I gave you too much space in my heart.
This morning I get up to find the following note from Roz:
Yeah so I turned my back ~20 seconds last nite with the gate down & Na'ilah peed on the new rug. It is outside having been doused with Nature's Miracle (could probably use more). I'll try to deal with it tomorrow when I get up. Sorry, --Roz
Two days ago there was a Na'ilah-sized wet area on the living room rug, 9 ft. x 6 ft. The first time ever, but Gracie and Stormy had pee'd on the rug, so it was a lost cause. Several times before I had had it cleaned and treated for pet odor at $100 a crack.
The last time I had bought a new area rug, which I kept in the garage for just such an occasion as this. Out with the old, in with the new.
From August through December, Na'ilah had never emptied her bladder in the house. She seemed to know she was on probation.
Gracie Giselle, the chihuahua, lives indoors and regularly makes small mistakes all over the house, though she uses pee pads 90% of the time.
Stormy, the corgi, regularly pees anywhere she smells Gracie's urine. It's probably a reflex action without much frontal cortex involvement. (Do dogs have a frontal cortex?)
Outdoors, Na'ilah and Stormy immediately copy each other on the exact spot the other has used, but Na'ilah never did this indoors until lately.
Since January, on three occasions we have found pee pads so soaked that Na'ilah had to have used them. They're only 22 inches x 22 inches, so her cup or two of urine always runs off onto the floor.
Nevertheless, all was forgiven: she had desperately searched for the right place to do this and had succeeded.
Using the brand new rug as her bathroom, however, changes everything. It feels like a personal assault.
I don't want this dog. Why did I add another dog to my life? What was I thinking?
I can live with the cost of cancer treatment and the cost of surgery for the cat she bit, but her choice to unload urine on the brand-new living room rug suddenly moves me past some internal limit of tolerance.
I won't drive her to the animal shelter, but I find myself detached.
Food, shelter, but no love.
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