Saturday, February 2, 2013
Whose Job is House Training by Chi-Ping
She’s ignoring me. I’ve never seen her like this before. Just when I start to trust her, she behaves like this.
Last night she worked on a home work assignment until late in the night. I slept with my head on her lap. I thought we were really bonding. About midnight she took me out to potty. She even stayed out in the yard with me while I went. About three she went to bed. I stayed curled up on the sofa with Blondie.
About 8:30 am she strolled down the hall for her morning cup of coffee. All I heard was “You bitch,” when she looked into her office. She opened the door and told me to get out.
What did she expect? Everybody knows I do my business first thing at six in the morning. Was I supposed to hold it for her? Now, I ask you, whose fault is this?
The neighbors were out, so I visited with them for awhile. Nothing too interesting happening there, so I headed home. Oh, joy, she was out on the porch. My day would get better with a little petting and perhaps a breakfast treat. I ran all the way up the driveway. I sat in front of her wagging my tail fast. She likes sits, so I know I’m sending her good signals she can understand. She looked at her cup of coffee like it was interesting, took a sip, and then she went back in the house. She walked away from a tail wagging sit without even saying, “Good girl.”
This is a woman, who says, “Good girl,” when I’m thinking about doing something she likes. When she comes back out, I wag my tail. I stare at her. She didn’t even glance at me. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know that when it’s over, it’s over? Get over yourself!
My mess must be cleaned up by now, so I tried to follow her back in the house. She closed the door in my face. I always say, “Forgive and forget.” She is doing neither. I went over to where poppy was sitting. He talked to me. He says she can be a real bitch. I don’t know what he means by that.
If you want me to poop and pee outside, then it’s your responsibility to let me out when I have to go. I’m just a little girl. It’s not my fault. Don’t you think she’s overreacting? How can I trust her, if she’s gonna get all mad?