Disgusting but true.

I was going downstairs when the smell of poop on the wrong side of the wall hit me. And I knew it was Ryder. By the smell. I can tell the difference by the smell of their poop now.

Help.

I really couldn't have a teacup anything.

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Ryder is a third of Lola's weight. And when they wrestle, they of course wrestle in the house. Nevermind we are crowded into the top floor during renovations. Nevermind the EXTRA LONG LOT AND A HALF that I bought with dogs in mind. Nevermind poor Robot who is trying to play San Andreas. They must play in the house.

But when they wrestle and bump the bed that I am sitting on blogging, I think they might flip the entire thing out the window. Me and my Serta right on the sidewalk. These fools could flip a Volkswagen.

Should I mention again that we have a hundred more pounds of Ryder to go?

Yorkies. Looking better and better.

Ah the stripes.

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

One Baby Hound of Hell.

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Here he is, the King of Crapping in the Crate! The Baron of Pushing a Bowl Around with his Nose! The Cane Corso who has the nerve to WHINNY during my precious Bo Bice performances which almost made him the Duke of Dead Dogs...Ryder!

I have lost track of how old he is, like the lazy blogger I am, but I think he's like sixteen or seventeen weeks. He's unbelieveably shiny, even when he isn't in the sun. Every day he gets another stripe in his coat, but they're beautifully subtle. And those far set eyes give him his Hound of Hell look.

Robot is hoping his snout doesn't get too much longer. I think it's a toss up - Tea had more snout, Roman has a shorter snout. Won't know till all the dust settles.

But here he is, in all his Afternoon Sun Makes Me Sleepy glory.

Ryder and Lola are sharing. Sorta.

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola and me!

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola is playing at being stuck up.

West and ryder and lola
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

It makes you wonder what's on the wind.

If it has a weapon, it's a Boo-Boo Beam.

Robot is now reassembling Ryder's Big Crate, the ULTIMA XXL, which Ryder put out of commission last week. (See Shit Stompin' and Failed Escape Attempt Resulting in Choking and Shitting and more Shit Stompin'.) He keeps whistling Darth Vader's Theme because he says it's like assembling the Death Star. Since Ryder keeps shitting in there anyway for some reason, we just decided to take the divider out. I know that's counter to what you're supposed to do, but I don't know if Robot can take one more ground up turd episode...

Wait. Maybe I'll suggest the opposite, since he rarely poops the teeny crate...

Give him less space than you think he needs, and move it into the adjoining room in place of teeny crate.

Ryder is like, thirty five pounds and rising now. His new nickname is HoH, short for Hound of Hell. Cane Corsos, even with their ears intact, are scary looking dogs. But I'm not afraid at all. Ryder gets uppity, I'll show him video of him Riverdancing and embarrass him to death.

Plus, I followed the Three Lessons, essential to raising a dog who knows you're the boss.

Aw. I thought the Gods had smiled upon me.

Nothing like being reaaaaally hungry and coming upstairs with a delicious plate of curry and the BOO-BOO scent says hello at the door. And then you have Boo-Boo with rice. Luckily I had two of those cute little Sophia Coppola Mini champagnes in my paws or I'd possibly have cried.

Lola also had gas, probably from stealing some other dogs' food at playgroup. Sudden change of food = fart.

This morning:

WEST: OMG Robot! The Gods have built some sort of adobe mud dream palace in the front yard. I went inside, there were rooms and spiritual leaves and symbolic markings. Maybe it's some sort of sweat hut? Maybe we are the chosen ones!

ROBOT: Nope. That's Ryder's doo-doo mound.

WEST: AWWWWW! I put wallpaper in there....

Yes. The good news is that Ryder woke him up twice to go to the bathroom. The bad news was that it was like three and four in the morning. If you have an older puppy and you want to sleep the night through my friends, the secret is simple. Adjust food and water. Give him small meals in the morning and early afternoon. Then no water after a certain time of night.

Or, let your boyfriend get a puppy and perfect the art of gently rocking him awake to go take care of it.

Out here you dumb ass.

A few days ago, after taking himself outside for a poop, Ryder almost peed on my foot...in the house. He just got all happy and let it rip. He's too big to pick up, so I kinda shoved him across the linoleum and out the back door.

One more reason that the next entry is kinda funny. Maybe Lola was trying to show Ryder where to do it.

This one is not about doo-doo.

ROBOT: Lola peed on Ryder's head.

WEST: Hmm. How's that possible?

ROBOT: He was sleeping in the grass and she squatted and peed on his head.

WEST:...hee...hee-hee...tee-hee...HAW HAW... my evil dog. I'm about to stop feeling sorry for her when I see Ryder biting her jowls CONSTANTLY...hee...C'mon Lola, let's go to playgroup. I think you're telling me you need a break.


Also, DESTRUCTION TALLY:

One IKEA waterer - Lola
One Pimsleur Spanish CD - Ryder?
Opening package on sprinkler and chewing the shit out of the plastic stand - Lola
Opening my gardening gloves, sniffing, sucking and possibly wearing them but NOT eating them - Lola
Chewing deck stair and end of ladder - Ryder
Nine million plastic pots from plants - Ryder
ALMOST eating Kiel's lip gloss - Ryder
Robot's Calvin Klein Glasses - Unknown but probably Ryder.

I'll say we're not doing too bad. But the moral of the story is Don't Leave a Puppy Unsupervised. And grown dogs need activities and a nice babygate to keep them out of trouble.

See?

Perspective from a kid-having dog owner Dooce.

Imagine the famous 'I Love Lucy' skit with Lucy and Ethel stomping grapes but with Ryder stomping shit.

I say this every day - every dog is different. I can see that Ryder is going to be infinitely more trainable than Lola will ever be. Ryder is far more outwardly in love with humans than Lola will ever be.

Then again, Lola never crapped in her cage and danced around in it either.

We're talking finely powdered dookie people. It's kind of amazing in its own disgusting way. He gets sooo frantic that he grinds it into the tray, the bars, his feet - everywhere. Now Lola had accidents in her crate, but she then stayed away from them like they were radioactive. Sometimes she got a little too involved in the poop. I believe I remember having a conversation like this:

OTHER DOG OWNER: Oh sometimes my girl gets poo-poop in her paws - I call her Lil' Poopy Paw!
WEST: Lola does that sometimes. I call her Shitty Foot.

Or was that about our cats? I can't remember. Anyhow, I just don't remember coming home to an absolutely shit-encrusted dog. Poor Robot is outside cleanin' and cussin'.

I say again - every dog is different, but EVERY puppy is uniquely trying.

May I say again that my next dog will be old enough to go to a bar with me and not get carded? But when I look back, I'm proud to say that I raised a wonderful, kind, respectful companion of a Bullmastiff from nine weeks on.

I just wouldn't do it again.

But for those that take on the collossal challenge of puppy raising with the right spirit, the rewards can be amazing. Robot is now in the shower with Ryder. He's singing. I think the song is about doo-doo, and puppies torturing Robots, but he's singing and not cussin'.

Are you guys beginning to see the cycle? When Ryder gets older, the only way Robot will truly remember the details of all these angry, frustrating moments will be when he reads my archives. If you do your job well, the bad puppy memories melt away. Like powdered turds under the hose...

You can be in charge and still be stupid.

So this morning we went to see a condo. Robot brought the dogs, but we left them in the car. I didn't crack the window because I didn't think it was that hot. And it wasn't.

But for two dogs in a closed Jeep, even moderate heat can be dangerous. When we got back, the Awesome Twosome were PANTING like crazy and I felt like such a heel. I KNOW better than that.

Remember that hot summer days can kill a dog in a sealed car. Leave them at home, or leave the windows cracked for them.

SELFISH SIDE: Who the hell wants to take care of a dog with a cooked brain? All I can see is mountains of poop on the floor and you can't even yell at them because its yer fault for being a cooked brain human who left the dogs in the Jeep/oven.

Now, I need to cast the After School Special called Don't Cook your Canine!

PERSPECTIVE: She also vomited turds once.

I realized that I was forgetting my poetry.

Every girl should know a few poems by heart. My favorites are by Langston Hughes, but I needed to refresh my memory. And as I read them aloud, I learned something new.

Lola totally loves poetry.

How freaking fun is that? New trick to calm your dog when he's bothering you when you're trying to read. Just read out loud.

Who pooped II

ROBOT: Who had a dump on the floor?

WEST: Who cares right now? I have to use all my psychic powers to get Keenyah voted off America's Next Top Model. But Lola has been sitting next to me since I got home, I think.

ROBOT: These turds are awfully big...

WEST: SUCCESS! GET GONE KEENYAH BITCH! BYE! What? Lola didn't do it. Clearly your dog has giant turds.

But I was thinking, that kinda smelled like Lola poop. How will I figure it out? Should I smell her butt? Naah. Too far. Just let it go. Naima rules.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER:

ROBOT: What the hell? Who took a dump back here?

WEST: That doesn't smell like Lola.

ROBOT: Yeah, these turds are kinda Ryder size. But those first ones...I had to get out the plunger on those (insinuating that it was Lola).

WEST: BO BICE! YEAAAAAH! Huh? What? Is this fresh? Maybe someone did it earlier. Whatever. CARRIE UNDERWOOD IS A FEMBOT!

So Who Pooped II: Look Who's Pooping Now remains unsolved. As a final kicker, we let them out into the yard and they BOTH pooped.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER:

Ryder peed in the house.

Did I mention that raising a puppy is not easy? And bringing a new puppy into the life of a grown dog isn't easy either?

Embarassing but not puberty related.

We let the dogs sleep with us last night.
Ryder fell out of the bed.

Recognizing Progress at 3 AM.

2:56 am.

RYDER: Whine.
ROBOT AND WEST: Zzzz...
RYDER: Whimper.
RYDER: (Chihuahua sized) bark?
WEST: I know that bark. Because he usually sleeps through the night, Ryder is politely trying to say that he has to wee. NOW.

There's no big signal that lets you know that your dog has made a pretty big leap in understanding. You have to watch for it. Like, he cries in the crate - LORD DOES HE CRY IN THAT CRATE. But, he usually sleeps through the night. It is unusual for him to wake us at three now. That means your training is working - he's telling you he has to go. You job now is to train yourself to understand him. Take note of your dog's habits and pay attention when they change. It just might mean they've learned something new.

This was tricky for us: Okay, when dog is in crate, ignore whining or dog will learn to whine to get out. But how do I respond if he's trying to tell me he has to pee?

Well Lola learned that whining in crate gets you a stoic trip outside. No pets. No toys. No soft talking. Nothing. Trip outside. We will wait there until you go. No playing. No frolicing. Nada. You pee, then you get love. Then back in the crate. Good night.

If you play with the dog AT ALL, the dog will learn that you can get a midnight petting session by waking everyone up. So if you follow the ritual everytime, your dog will learn that that is all he's gonna get. So that's all he'll expect.

Anyhow, I get up and let everybody go for a 3-PEE. The Three AM Bathroom Extravaganza!
Get up. Turn off alarm. Open the door. Get Ryder. Tell Lola to go downstairs to the bathroom so Ryder will follow her. Wait. Wait. Ryder poops. CHEER FROM THE BALCONY! Lola pees. What the hell, CHEER FOR LOLA! Ryder pees, I think - hard to tell from here. CHEER FOR RYDER! Uh oh, is that more poop from Ryder? He must have been fed and watered too late. HURRRAH! Call the home team up. Shut the door. Turn on alarm. Tell Ryder he's clever and handsome for telling us he was Chock-Full-o-Turds and needed to go out instead of crapping up the crate. Tell Lola she's pretty. Back to bed.

Smile at each other because the Ryder is growing up.

Using dog as a weapon.

Robot = Early Riser
West = The only reason I leave the bed is 'cause people can't see my cute outfits when I'm under the covers.

Robot has had a gentle talk with me. That he'd like me to join him in the morning, in his dawn merry-making with the dogs. I have told him that I understand his needs and would try to get up. Oh yes, I'll try. Try...ZZZZZZZ.

ROBOT RELATIONSHIP SOLUTION: Release the hound.

Every morning, Ryder races to the side of the bed and reaches up with a BIG paw and bats me in the face. Then licks me to take the sting out of it. I look up and Robot is nowhere to be found, i.e. not responsible for Good Morning America Ryder.

Sometimes I wake up to see Ryder and Robot having a good morning wrasslin' match. Or a nice tug o'war. In the foreground is my previously slovenly Lola. Big ol' sad Bullmastiff eyes staring at me.

LOLA: Why can't we be like that?
WEST: Are you fucking kidding me? It's like 9:30 am. Go. Back. To. Sleep.

She was fine before, sleeping until I get up or in extreme cases of bathroom/vomit/allergies, politely suggesting that I get up and help a sister out. I probably should have followed my first instinct and gotten a three-toed tree sloth as a pet. They move like they're doing tai-chi, they hardly ever talk and they poop a third of their body weight like, once a week. That's my kind of party.

So this morning the bed started shaking like I'd put a quarter in it. Wanna guess why?

WEST: Ryder?
RYDER: Yipee! I can kick! (kickkickkickkick)
WEST: Are you in the bed?
RYDER: Yup! (kickkickkickkick)

I must have slept through my MORNING WEST! punch in the face, so Robot put this Riverdancing mf IN the bed with us.

So I guess the moral of the post is this: Prepare for your dog to become a part of your relationship with another human. Sometimes even participating in a political agenda. Luckily, dogs usually make the agenda funny. That's why we have them.

I once put a cookie in the pocket of my ex-boyfriend's shirt and tied it into a knot to entice Lola to destroy it. My mother thought that was twisted and severely unlike me, so I knew it was time to break up. But I'm still laughing at Lola looking at me all, "Are you sure you want me to do this? You said if I ever chew up ANY article of clothing you'd sell me at the Piggly Wiggly."

So I'm gonna try harder to get up earlier and celebrate the new day with the Robots and the Ryders. All I'm saying is, if you scratch 90 pounds of Lola just so, her hind leg goes thumpthumpthumpthumpthump...

Take that Early to Bed.

Small victories. Take them. Celebrate them.

I came into consciousness the same way I always do - pulling my face out of Robot's armpit and trying to preserve some semblance of sexiness by wiping whatever crust/drool I've gathered while sleeping onto his shirt before he sees me. And then I realize that WE WENT TO SLEEP WITH THE PUPPY OUT OF HIS CRATE.

Gucci boots/shoes/purse.
YSL shoes.
Balenciaga purse.
Vintage snakeskin bowling ball shaped purse.
Chloe top.
Jonathan Adler Pillow
Statue from previous owner of the Grapevine bar.
Retablos from Mexico.
Unpeed on plush shag rug.
Stacks of Dwell, Elle Decor UK, and Living Etc.
Tivo Remote
Various furniture legs.

The lives of these things passed before my eyes, slow and tender moments of fashion/home decor greatness.

And hell, the back door might be open. Ryder might be gone. He might be at the White Castle ordering tiny burgers at the drive thru window without turning his stereo down like everybody else.

And where was Ryder?

Asleep on Lola's bed with his head up her butt.

Ooh. Housebreaking.

Ryder hadn't had an accident in days at Ruth and Anne's.
He comes home and the next day after some vigourous play with Lola, I hear a tiny fountain...AW SHIT! Right on Lola's bed.

The tricky part of boys is that they pee on the go. No leg lifting yet. It's less a pee break than a pee pause. Really hard to stop. Lola has to stop, pull her skirt up, pull her panties down, squat then pee. Plenty of time for me to bang my knee cymbals to startle her and rush her outside.

In the house = bad. YELL NO! Make your no loud enough to startle them into stopping. Grab dog. Rush outside. Allow dog to annoy you by taking forever to go outside. Say your command for using the toilet. When they comply, squeal with delight at pee or poo.

RYDER: Hey I peed in this grass.
WEST: (like he split the atom) OH MY GOODNESS! You handsome devil you! Do you know what this means for mankind?

It is important to be exuberant in your praise, even when you're mad that you're outside in the middle of the night.

Crate training is good.
Giving your dog a set mealtime means you will have an idea of when she needs to poop.
Take away water a few hours before bedtime.
After a while, you can wake your sleeping dog up and take him out. Then do it an hour later. Then an hour later. Then an hour later. Until she lasts all night.

And the final thing that nobody told me? Do NOT buy your dog an expensive bed until he is trained. Unless you are rich and wasteful. Your cute bed WILL get peed on. Go to a thrift store and buy like, 900 fluffy blankets for like, eight bucks. Get a box. Bedtime for Bonzo.

Trust me on this. I put Mr. Petco's kids through freaking med school by buying Lola beds before she was ready.

Fear Factor - Ryder vs. Egyptian Cotton

So this morning I had my wet hair up in a bright green towel. Ryder barked, then barked then BARKED then growled, then ran behind Robot. I can't help but wonder what he thought the problem was with my head. Like, does he think there's an alien worm slowly swallowing my head? Giant terrycloth tumor? Head fell into big green radioactive turd? Is he barking, WASH YOUR HEAD GIRL! WASH YOUR HEAD!

See how dogs need as much exposure to all types of different noises and people and headwear?

So you know what I did. I waggled my alien head and went right for him. He went under then bed. I called him softly and when he was brave and didn't bark at me, I praised him. Remember never to comfort a dog that is scared of a new experience. It makes him think that the scared or defensive behaviour is the right response.

So now, he knows that people with giant Target towels on their heads are friends to dog-kind.

LATER THAT DAY:

WEST: Hey how was your day?

ROBOT: Well, Lola figured out how to get the food bin open. Then she went parading around the house with your cute, expensive Candelas in her drooly maw. Then I crated Ryder and ran an errand with Medium Robot. When I got back, Ryder (a.k.a. Dogdini) had gotten his neck stuck between the bars of the crate. He was screaming, his eyes were red and of course he'd crapped in the crate and kicked it everywhere with his back legs. I was terrified.

WEST: I had a salad for lunch.

Fantasia is wrong. Dog Dads, not Baby Mamas, should have their own holiday.

Well he was happy to see us...

We went away and now the boy is fifteen weeks.
Robot was worried. We've been gone almost two weeks - will he remember me?
Will I know him?
Nope.
You'll have to start alllll over.
I'm kidding people. It doesn't matter if you change your hair, gain weight, get plastic surgery, leave for eight years. That dog has smelled enough of your crotch to know you in a dark room. They use dogs to track people because dogs recognise you even when you're not there. You went on vacation, not witness protection.

So we pick the kids up at See Spot Run.

Lola looked like Lola and Ryder looked like Skinny Ryder on Stilts.

Anne and Ruth and Nick said Ryder was GREAT. He really is turning out to be a guy's dog. Everyone loves him, but he really responds to men. So does my friend Seng's Golden Retriever Bo, but he's gay (not that there's anything wrong with that).

He was also pretty skinny. Anne and Ruth want Robot to perhaps try a different food to help him pick up a little more weight. Now if you have been doing any studying gentle readers, you know that you want to put weight on a large breed dog very slowly to keep from putting stress on growing joints. But, Ryder's nannies were concerned that we were pouring a lot of food into him and he didn't seem to be getting any of the benefits. Which equals lots of food, lots of poo, skinny dog. They were thinking that temporarily, a premium food might help him keep the nutrients a little better. Right now he eats Nutro, which is one of the best of the pet supply store brands. But in Chicago, we have For Dog's Sake, a health food store for pets and they might have a better option for growing Ryder.

Then when Ryder went to the vet, his doctor says he's fine. Not to worry about it. Nutro is good, and she cautioned Robot about adding too much weight.

And it is normal for a puppy to thin out, then get just right. Then get a little plump, then get real skinny. They're gawky things, puppies are. And as Lola is naked and I didn't have to go to freaking Baby Gap for new gauchos everytime she make a weight swing, I didn't care. She evened out and came out fine.

Here's the thing about dog foods. Sometimes you have to poke around to find the right one. Lola's breeder was using a great food - Eukanuba. But it gave her father skin allergies. So he'd switched all the dogs to Iams and it was going swell. But Lola would have these HUGE shit souffles. You couldn't pick this stuff up in a baggie. I'd have to drive my Jeep up them and plant dynamite. Then she'd FART so loud she'd look behind her to see who farted.

And people, I'll tell you my secret. When puppy Lola and I were alone in the house, I'd let one go REAL LOUD, real close by her. She'd look at my butt all confused like I'd made a miracle in there.

Now bullies are known for flatulence. I've known Bo like, six years and have yet to see him ruffle his golden crimped hair with a fart. On the other hand, my buddy Chris' boxer had me at 'hello'. I knew this about bullies when I signed up. So it took Ruth and Anne to tell me that Iams is making Lola's tummy mad. So they switched her to Pro Plan large breed adult food. And everything has been fine since.

So. Step one is being able to tell if your dog is fat or skinny or Goldilocks. Try this. Poor plump dog number nine. Ryder isn't like a one, but he's less than a five. If you are feeding what your trusted sources are telling you to feed your dog and he's still too skinny or fat, watch for intestinal distress - farts or soft serve play doh poo fountains coming out of your dogs butt. Unusual amount of poo related accidents in the house? Be sure it isn't treat related by sticking to his official dog food diet. Still funny weight? Mention it to your vet, or ask your breeder for a recommendation (that's part of why you paid so much for that fancy pants dog - specialized free advice for life).

So if he stays really skinny, even after he spends two weeks being lazy and eating Twinkies with me and Lola, I'm gonna lean on Robot to listen to Ruth and Anne.

So anyhow, we're at See Spot Run to get the dogs and Robot is talking to the peeps and I'm all, "Uh, Robot he's got the Tiny Lipstick." But nobody was listening. And I didn't want Robot to miss this monumental moment in a boy dog's life, so I go, "LOOK! RYDER'S GOT A TINY LIPSTICK! A RED ROCKET! A BONER!" And I laugh and point. And EVERYONE looks at Ryder who suddenly shrivels and runs behind somebody's legs.

When I have kids, gosh I hope I get boys. I instinctively know how to handle sensitive male developmental issues.