the joys of motherhood

To everyone who didn't think I would make a very good dog owner...well, this weekend's experiences were probably the foundation for that opinion. So far, I would have to say that I have been fairly patient, and certainly diligent in taking Sheba/Shelby out for walks, bathroom breaks, and general accompaniment. She's suffered through sand, hot asphalt, and tasty lunches where she didn't even get a scrap because I didn't want her to be left behind in my activities.

Now that I'm working farther away, I can't come home for lunch like I used to and take her for walks around the neighborhood to relieve herself. So I'm trying to train her to use puppy pads. Janessa claims that Frances took to the pads immediately, since they're treated with some sort of chemical that supposedly makes the dog want to urinate on top of them. However, Sheba clearly prefers to ignore this scent and instead seems to delight in crapping and pissing anywhere she damn well pleases. Generally, she aims for the front door area, but she has been known to go near the bedroom door, next to the couch, and even (I know it's disgusting) in the bed. I tried leaving her in the bathroom a couple weeks ago, covering half the floor with pads and the other half with her bedding and food dishes, but I quickly discovered the folly of that plan when I came home to find her bedding soaked in the upturned water dish, the puppy pads akimbo, and the contents of my medicine cabinets all over the countertop. The Sheba was displeased.

So now I have resorted to covering as large an area as possible with pee pads in front of the door, and this has been working fairly well, since she already aims for that area as a rule. I try to reward her when she goes where she's supposed to, but since it usually happens when I'm away, it's not a very good positive reinforcement.

Sunday morning I was in the middle of a glorious shower, when Hector runs in to let me know that Sheba pooped on her puppy pad. Hurray!

However.

After laying her turd, Sheba then apparently decided to trample it with her back feet. Trample it, and then race back to Hector in the bedroom to lick his face with joy at her accomplishment. Hector immediately suspected she had been up to the devil's business and then noticed the little brown paw prints all over the bedding, floor, and pretty much the entire living room. So I got to not only impromptu wash Sheba's feces-ridden body during MY shower, I spent the next 5 hours laundering everything that had even the remote possibility of coming in contact with her soiled hind feet. That included renting a carpet cleaner and shampooing the entire apartment, even though I am fairly certain I haven't seen the last of the stains I am going to have to industrially vacuum and shampoo out.

If anything solidifies my resolve to avoid having children until absolutely necessary/accidentally, it is the thought of a tiny human 100 times worse than Sheba.