Confessions of a First Time Foster

I don’t think I ever mentioned that the Mystery of the Lake involves a serial striker. We’ve cleaned up I think four lakes carefully placed at the entrance to Angel’s crate. Luckily that’s in the kitchen. I know I wondered whether it was Cognac trying to “hide” Angel’s den or Paris declaring herself Angel’s landlady. We got a new clue when I actually looked at the living room:

I can’t imagine why Cognac would be feeling protective of his and Paris’s crates, but I can well imagine why my sweetie-pie would want to post “Private Property” signs. And of course once I started looking, more spots were evident. So we got a company in here to clean the carpets today, including spraying the whole thing with a deodorizer. I was very pleased they could get here with so little notice, because it was impossible to even think of housetraining Angel with the carpet in such shape. Which reminds me, Lynn told me today that the longer we wait on starting official housebreaking, the harder it will be. Darn. So I guess we start now.

Anyway, as the tech was finishing up (at around 1pm), he told me that the carpet would take up to 12 hours to dry. I asked about the dogs walking on the carpet, and he said it was no problem. Then he added that we shouldn’t let them lie on the carpet. Oh.

At the time Paris and Cognac were at the groomers. We found out that we could book them two rooms for the night at the boarding place we use, and decided in one of those instant mutual decisions that the prospect of three unhappy dogs penned in the kitchen for the rest of the day was unendurable. So after Paris & Cognac got home from the groomers, we took them over to their vacation place. Angel of course couldn’t go — I wasn’t going to consider asking the boarding place to take a dog in full-blown season. Nevertheless, keeping just one dog off the living room carpet has been delightfully easy.

And they would have been three very unhappy dogs, btw. It’s not bad enough that all three of them vociferously dislike being confined. No, Angel has finally decided to let Cognac have at her. I took the dogs into the kitchen last night so I could take Angel’s diaper off and give them a chance. (Paris of course came with.) It turns out that while Cognac can get his dingus a bit out, something isn’t working right and he can’t hook on. Poor boy! Poor little girl! Even poor Paris, who was feeling extremely bored. But Cognac kept trying. And trying. I answered the phone, “Triple X Motel. Rates by the hour.” (Credit to Papa for suggesting the “Rates by the hour.”)