The Buddha just made Jesus blow milk out of his heavenly nose.

I like to think there's some unknown presence(s) out there in the universe that is gets a really good belly laugh at our human antics. I'd also like to allege that they have a mischevious streak – occasionally nudging things into the comedic for a giggle. Exhibit A:

So last night Robot goes to help his friend E-the-Cop. So E is one of Robot's buddies from way back, so he went to help him move into his brand new condo. And he took Ryder. Robot figured he'd let Ryder hang at E's while it is still empty. Nothing to chew/knock over. Cool? Cool.

Things were going well, then Ryder peed on the floor. Then they put him outside and he BARK. BARK. BARKED. Not wanting to make E's new neighbors cranky, Robot brought him in the house, put him in the bathroom and they went to run an errand. When they got back, Robot said he opened the door to the bathroom, and Ryder had gone all Lord of the Flies again and FLUNG HIS POOP ALL OVER E'S NEW BATHROOM.

The epicenter was in the center of the room, then it spead. He pooped in the tub. He sat in it. He ran around the room, and smeared it on the floor, the cabinets, the toilet, and up the walls. There was poop in the sink. Did this dog wash his paws? Poop up by the towel rack. In the grout. Robot says he might have to paint. And I will bet that our boy reverted back to his LIVE MONKEY BEING SLICED INTO LUNCHMEAT screams, which is his favorite soundtrack for distributing the poo all over a bathroom. Trust me. I know.

Worst of all, because E-the-Bachelor was just now moving in, he didn't have cleaning supplies yet. And it was too late to go get any. So Robot had to clean a crap-encrusted puppy, the bathroom and eventually himself, ALL with TOILET PAPER. He said it took two rolls.

THEN he had to strip down and shower with the dog after he'd finished the bathroom because they were both going to make a mess of the place again if they didn't. And after that, the bathroom needs cleaning AGAIN because now you've got dookie crumbs everywhere.

Right here I'd like to explain something to those seeking a puppy for the first time: At some point, you will look that puppy in the eye and call him a motherfucker. And mean every syllable.

At the very least you will want to dump him off in a neighborhood where all the dogs are chained in dusty back yards so he can SEE how good he has it with you. You read about his breed on the internet so you can take the very best care of him. You didn't have to do that. You could be surfing porn but nooo! You're finding out what food will make his coat shinier. You spend at least a small leather good at Louis Vuitton's worth of money each month on him. Daycare. Food. Vet. Fancy collar and home made treats. And now he does THIS in your friend's new condo? You lit-tle mu-tha-fuc-ka!

Your puppy can and will embarrass you. Especially if you're raising him right. If you're raising him right, he'll be in a lot of new scary situations that aren't always the most comfortable for him. And one response to fear or nervousness is to poop. Or pee. Or fart. Or bark. Or hump. Or any number of things that make humans want to be incinerated by Zeus on the spot.

Puppy raising isn't all cute cuddles. Frequently you have dog shit under your fingernails. And FYI? My dog *still* takes dumps in anything that seems like a basement, so no garden apartment visits for Lola.

So back to Poor Robot. Poor Robot slinks home at 2 in the morning and I could tell by the sad clumpy way that Ryder went into his cage that it was a TENSE ride home. And Poor Robot falls into bed and tells me this awful tale of woe. He. Was. Mortified. And although I know he wanted E-the-Cop to shoot him and his unruly dog to end the misery, E is cool and I'm sure will forgive. And one day this story will be a big laugh over a cold imported beer purchased by Robot.

The beer will be on Robot for like, the next 700 years.

But right now, given this thing, these famous last words, plus this incorrect assumption of a jinx fulfilled, me and the celestial studio audience almost peed our robes writing this.

I TOTALLY jinxed myself.

Wha'd it take? Like two days flat? He peed on the floor tonight. Then he peed for like five minutes straight outside.

Next time I want to tell you that Ryder has made a significant housebreaking breakthrough I'll say a code word. Like, "First the Fat Boys break up, and now this." No wait. That suggests that housebreaking is a bad thing.

I got it. JINX-FREE CODE PHRASE: "Ladies and Gentlemen, Sexual Chocolate."

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler

Ryder vs. The Sprinkler
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

It's not that they wrassle.

It's that they wrassle in the freaking house. I have a huge backyard just for the two of them, and they play in the four feet of the Remodeling Circle of Hell that Robot and I have cleared for our own. I'm not sure why, but look at that look on Ryder's face. That's love, passion or possession by Satan. Either way, until they break something, knock yourself out dogs.

I'm gonna go ahead and jinx myself.

But Ryder seems to be fairly housebroken.

I delayed writing this post because you KNOW he's gonna make a turd mountain in my YSL shoebox just to show me he's the boss of my destiny. Whenever I would make the declaration that Lola had finally realized the insanity of making puddles inside, she, without fail, would fall off the wagon.

I still remember when she was like, 10 months old, she ran into my bedroom, picked up a toy, looked me in the eyes and lovingly peed on the floor. What? Oh dang! That was an accident.

Most of the poop that hits your floor from your puppy is not an "accident" - they don't even understand that the bathroom is outside. So that's job one. Inside 101 and Outside Goddamn You 101.

So anyhow, when we're home, we usually have the back door open, giving the dogs access to the yard. Ryder takes himself out when he has to go.

MOM-MY WOW! I'm a big kid now!

That leaves us to only enforce mandatory bathroom visits just before we leave him cratebound.

And speaking of the crate, remember when Robot did the exact opposite of what you're supposed to do and took the divider out of his ULTIMA crate for GIGANTIC dogs? He hardly EVER had an accident in this crate that is pretty much like an apartment for him. HE should be peeing and pooping freely in there.

Maybe he wasn't ready to be left alone for more than five seconds when we were trying to teach him in the smaller crate. Maybe when he had a growth spurt in there it felt like the trash compactor scene in Star Wars. In any case, he's a champ now.

There's a place that a dog gets to, where he becomes a part of the home and not a TINY, SCREAMING, LEAKY, CHEWY, BITING MARAUDER. They have to be raised to that place. And even if he lets loose on my Rya rug five minutes after I post this, I still know that he's on his way there.

Um...

Um...
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Puppies are work.

Puppies are work.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

You have to make them listen to you every time. Or else they only will when they feel like it.

Robot is yelling, "Stack! Stack!"

Robot is yelling, "Stack! Stack!"
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Sunburst Ryder

Sunburst Ryder
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Like what? Fifty pounds?

Like what? Fifty pounds?
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Robot and Lola and the only Kong that lasts longer than five minutes.

Robot and Lola and the only Kong that lasts longer than five minutes.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Dogs love trucks.

Dogs love trucks.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

The old Nissan adage is true. But Lola loves Jeeps.

--sigers

The back seat of my Jeep

The back seat of my Jeep
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Sharing is going well so far. Ryder just sleeps on Lola's butt.

Do unto other dogs...

Inspired by the previous post, I'm sharing the grossest thing I've ever had to do for someone else's dog:

So last year I was staying at my homegirl Dwayne's house until I could move into the Third Circle of Remodeling Hell. I came home and her Golden (Bo) was there, Lola was there and Dwayne's boyfriend NordikTrak's dog Cooper was there. Poor sweet Cooper had an upset tummy a lot then. Poor sweet Cooper had taken a COLOSSAL RUNNY DUMP ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND IN DWAYNE'S RUG. And other dog poop is different than your dog poop. Your dog poop, after a while, will be an expected stink. Other dog poop smells like the first time you ever had to pick up dog poop.

I won't lie. I considered just backing out the door and pretending I wasn't the first person home. But then you could have tracking issues and Dwayne is the sweetest, sweetest do anything for you friend that a girl could have. But wait, Bo didn't poop - it was Cooper. And I really like NordikTrak but I dunno...

As I write this, I am embarrassed to remember that I went through all that deliberation. Dwayne is a friend of mine and Coop is a friend of Lola's. Just get to cleaning. And I did. And at least they got home for the disinfecting part.

Three days later I get a call from Dwayne.

DWAYNE: Hey. We're even. I just pulled a plastic bag out of your dogs butt. Bye.

See how this works?

Ladies & Gents - possibly the grossest Bullmastiff story yet.

Successful dog ownership requires that you dog-proof the house and learn to keep it that way naturally. Before I lived in a remodeling disaster scene, I used to have a routine I went through each time I left the house. I'd make sure the bedroom door was shut - no dog on the bed when I'm gone. I'd make sure she has water. Check her immediate area to make sure none of my precious Elle Decor UK magazines were in her reach.

ELLE DECOR UK = Wendy's Triple w/cheese.

Then I'd babygate her into her safe area.

This whole thing was just my best way of insuring that I wouldn't return home to a big mess. Now have I forgotten and left something awry? Yup. And sometimes Lola made me pay, but many times she didn't. In fact, right now, she has access to the bed when I'm out, but doesn't goes on it without being asked up. Probably because Jay the Babysitting Cat took her head off if she tried to share his territory.

I say all that to say that I am off my game. Things with Lola ran much smoother - not perfect, just smoother - before I moved into remodeling disaster scene. There's nowhere to block her into that doesn't have something that could be ruined. She has access to my ENTIRE collection of expensive British home mags. The occasional shoe. A wooden statue that even to me kinda looks like a chew toy. And she is good. Until two days ago.

This is the part where you shouldn't have food anywhere near.

No, put that sandwich down.

Phone rings.

ROBOT: Uh, hey, ummm...does Lola have any...strange...tastes for any...
WEST: (using her mental Robot link) Well there was this.
ROBOT: ...no, more like, I mean, well...
WEST: Well Robot, she's a dog. Name your poison here. She drinks out of the toilet. Then there was the whole eating cat turd thing, but Jay is still at his summer home. And you tried to get her to eat a rat but she wouldn't do that but she will eat bugs and roll in dead cat–
ROBOT: No. Like she went in the garbage? In the bathroom?
WEST: AH.
ROBOT: (SO relieved that I got it before he had to get more descriptive) Yeah. All over the floor upstairs.

Ladies, let me tell you that one of the best investments you can make in general, are garbage cans that have a lid, or that can be secured in some way. Because there are...*things*...like PERSONAL SANITARY THINGS that you don't want your boyfriend to come home to. Especially when you're out of the delightfully thin Always with wings and are forced to use those mattress sized Stayfree ones that come in a BOX. That's a LOT of material for a dog to work with.

Remember, dogs don't think like you. There's something about certain earthy smells like shoes and panties and socks and dead cats that turn them on the way you liked Scratch n Sniff stickers when you were a kid. So while we think, "Hmm, I'll discreetly tuck this into bottom of trash can wrapped in an entire roll of Charmin." Lola thinks, "Ah, a teeny pillow with a mighty interesting vaguely West smell. Must inspect and devour."

So I told Robot to just leave the mess and I'd get to it when I got home. I think I could feeeeel his relief through the phone. And when I got home, I was mad as hell because she does know better but I've read all the books that say that if you don't catch them right away, they have no idea why you're mad.

And many times, I think that's bullshit. Look at her when I pick up that trash can. She knows and she is soooo mocking me. SHE KNOWS she did something wrong. And she does know that she did *something* wrong - but she's reading it from my body language. Not connecting it to the Stayfree that she set free. If I just happily picked up the debris, Lola would have wagged her tail and followed me around. But because she can probably smell my emotions, she knew something was brewing.

I think she thinks that the garbage can got her in trouble - stupid garbage can! But she doesn't know why. So she understands to kind of maybe stay away from that particular thing maybe, depending on the risk/reward factor.

Either way I yelled at her and shook the can at her and bonked her on the nose. Will it help her not dumpster dive? Eh, maybe not. But I felt better. YOU KNOW I'M CLEARLY EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW PEOPLE!

And from now on, I'll be securing the trash can in the bathroom.

BTW, she has done this once before, but left no trace. Until her poop came out in a neat wrapper with dri-weave.

I TOLD you to put down your lunch.

Lola at the vet.

Lola at the vet.
Originally uploaded by west end girl.

Lola loves her doctors at North Avenue Animal Hospital. She worries

about shots though.

The Housebreaking Rollercoaster!

Ryder peed going down the hall and doused my Rya rugs, but it was on the way to the back door at least. During the day when the back door is open, he usually gets up and takes himself to the bathroom. I have gone out on the balcony many times and seen Ryder on the lawn doing his patented Walking-Squat-Extra-Wide-Leg-Spread poop stance. He likes to kinda stroll the poop out. I don't know why, because that makes it really hard to read. But when I see him going outside, it isn't hard to cheer.

Then we got delayed and left him in the ULTIMA/Death Star crate for TEN HOURS. And I'm sure you know that if you leave your puppy alone for that long, you leave him in a crate or room that is large enough for him to poop-n-pee on the other side and still have room to sleep. It's only fair. I used to check Lola into the Ramada Inn.

And you don't get to fuss if they go. It's YOUR bad - YOU didn't let them out. But Ryder is currently occupying the entire ULTIMA crate that is bigger than a Volkswagon Bug, so we were just prepared to get to cleaning when we got home.

I went last up the stairs, sniffing. Nothing. I opened the door and there was a grinning Robot and a dry Ryder. He didn't go. He was fine for TEN HOURS.

Then, we left for two hours and he peed.

Moral of Story: Puppies. Go Figure.

Theory Number 001

Why won't the dogs go roll around in the grass outside?

'Cause it's SHITTY out there! As Robot and I go on a poop-hunt like, once a week. And we pick up the doo-doo in the house much faster than that.

So carry on with your wrasslin' in the four square feet that aren't full of boxes. Three inches from my glass table. Mock-snapping teeth about a foot from my bare toes. Carry on, canines.

Mind you, he HATED this crate before.

Against all proven knowledge, giving Ryder the entire ULTIMA crate is working. Ryder hasn't had a shit grindin' accident in there since we took the divider out. He's also closer to us than he was, so that has something to do with it too I'm sure.

That whole dog that wants to be in your butt at all times is so odd to me. Now Lola does enjoy your company, but I have had to beg her to sleep in my room. And she certainly didn't care if you put her in her crate in the living room. Unless you were eating a huge steak dinner and drinking beer without her. Then she'd pout. But Ryder WANTS TO BE WITH HIS DADDY DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Sometimes I look up and Robot is IN the crate resting with Ryder.

Robot is not so good with the separation anxiety treatments.

But they say that your dog will be just like you - with your faults and all. I find that to be true. Lola is a stoic, hard-headed, smart but hard to train, funny, leggy (by Bullmastiff standards she's a supermodel) confident girl who would prefer you to do it her way. That's me!

By that logic, Robot will be a clever, people pleasing boy who is quick to learn, and likes to show off all that he knows, but will wither and droop if he doesn't stay close to humans he can talk to. That's Robot!

Jay? Jay is his own Cool Motherfucking Self. Cats always are.