This time I really mean it. I am going to keep this s.o.b. short! Especially with how early I was up this morning. Let's begin.
So as you can probably tell from the title, this one's going to be about my sweet little angel face, Georgia. Or "dog" as I like to call her when she's pissing me off. Like lately!
The thing I've noticed about Georgia is that she goes through peaks and valleys, behavior-wise. For about 80% of the time we've had her she has been surprisingly good: doesn't whine for our food at the dinner table, doesn't bark, and hasn't had an accident in the house for weeks. It's just that pesky 20% of bad behavior she dips into that drives us crazy. Luckily it usually only lasts about a week before she's back to being very good. But what a week...
A few days ago, while Joe and I were inside watching a DVD, he received a message from someone saying that he had our dog. We both looked at each other, and realized we hadn't checked on the dog, naturally assuming she was just frolicking in the yard, as usual. Oh this happened on Sunday, the same day I felt like ultimate crap but put on a brave front because we were going to the Renaissance Fest with friends and I didn't want to be a Debbie Downer.
I had been trying to nurse my hangover the whole morning, but the second Joe told me about the message I sprang (well, quickly hobbled is more accurate) to my feet and tried to find some shoes. It just so happened that our friends were meeting us at our house and they arrived around the same time as our dog-rescuer did. We thanked him profusely and he explained where he had found her.
Apparently she had either slipped through a gap in the fence or simply hopped over it, I assume in pursuit of a squirrel. He said she seemed to be trying to figure out a way back in, as she stayed near the fence. This was a small amount of relief to me, since the road right next to our sidewalk tends to get busy and cars often surpass the speed limit by a few miles.
We were happy to have her home, but once again our trust was broken with her. Joe had spent a good deal of time and money fencing in the rest of the walkway, but the reward was that Georgia could run and play outside without much supervision. Now we were both panicky and paranoid.
The next day as we were getting ready for work we let her out to go to the bathroom. Joe and I were talking about something and as he turned his back to check on her he noticed her trying to squeeze her body through the gap at the bottom of the gate. He shouted at her and immediately she pulled back out. This is, we guess, how she must've gotten out, but we're still not 100% positive.
Then I came home from work, walked into the kitchen and couldn't believe my eyes. She had not only been on our small make-shift card-dinner table, but she had completely destroyed the fabric on top. I walked in to find the top of the table in complete and utter shreds. As if that wasn't enough, I then walked back into the living room and spied a fresh, wide, wet pee stain on the rug.
The next day I stayed a little late at work, but Joe texted me to tell me that the place was fine but she had still peed on the rug. Later that night (or Wednesday morning I should say), Georgia woke us both up by suddenly tearing down the stairs and whining. This is unusual for her, as normally if she wants to go out to go to the bathroom she just comes to my side of the bed and whines a little till I wake up. It's not strange to see her animated in the morning, but hyper and hysterical is.
I thought maybe it was because I wasn't being as diligent as I had been with taking her for a run with me, so I made it a point, after dinner with Ash, to tear-ass home to get in a run with her. Unfortunately, with the days getting shorter, it's a rush against time before it's too dark to go. I made it just before it got pitch black, and though it wasn't as long as our runs usually are I still figured I had worked out alot of her pent up energy.
Sure enough this morning she tore off downstairs again, at around 5:00 a.m. I also wanted to try and curb her bladder so I gave her water to drink with her food, but took it away when I left for work. Sadly, when I walked into the house again, there was the yellow puddle, right by the door. I raised my voice a bit, but even without that she knew she had done wrong. Btw, does it make me the most evil person to admit that I think she looks the damn cutest when she's scared or guilty? Her big ears flatten against her head and that curly-cue tail unfurls between her legs. It's so hard to be mad at her when all I want to do is scoop her up and cuddle. But then she's basically learning that peeing by the door is A-OK. I'm not sure what to try next, but the week IS almost up, so maybe we're on our way to the peak.
I'll keep you posted. Until then, goodnight!
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