For the weekend, he had been deliciously spoiled as both The Lawyer and I were around all day, everyday, and our only errands (to Petco and then, the vet) involved taking him with us—a puppy’s dream!
Yesterday, real life resumed. I went home on Monday night, and after The Lawyer left for work on Tuesday, Remi was left at home alone. I had some errands to run in the morning, so by the time I got to The Lawyer’s condo, he had been alone for about an hour and a half—not that long at all. Still, I could hear him both barking and crying from the hallway and when I got inside, I realized that he had peed in his crate.
Actually, I had no idea what had happened, as the floor was wet outside of his crate. I called The Lawyer to ask if he thought Remi just slobbered outside of the crate or was so incensed that he spit at us (or something? I don’t know). The Lawyer sagely suggested that I wipe the liquid with a paper towel to discover its origins.
It was yellow. And definitely pee-pee. He must have aimed his little butt outward when he did it. (Side note: My first instinct was to sniff it…thank you, organic chemistry, for teaching me NOTHING about life!)
I released the monster, who we were already warned would have separation anxiety, and he jumped around and acted like everything was totally fine. I made him wait for his walk, but generally stayed closeby-ish (in the next room). Unfortunately, several hours later, I had to leave again for a doctor’s appointment.
This time, instead of crating him, I just left him in his confined room with lots of toys and a rawhide to chew on. I covered a throw pillow with one of The Lawyer’s undershirts and left the TV on. Then, I left unceremoniously. I presume that he looked like this when I left:
Standing behind the baby gate, trying to see what The Lawyer is doing.
Of course, the doctor’s appointment took way longer than expected, but when I came back three hours later, it was very quiet in the hallway.
As I opened the door, a little gray ball of fluff greeted me, happily playing at my feet.
I scooped him up, worried that he figured out how to jump over the puppy gates, but much to my dismay, I found this instead:
That’s right. He broke down the freaking puppy gate.
I don’t even know how he managed it. The only thing that I can think of is that this gate is actually a baby gate, not a puppy gate. (The other gate we have is a specifically dog gate...he did not succeed in getting that one down.) Maybe the pressure mount of the baby gate isn’t as strong, because the manufacturers don’t expect babies to be plowing headfirst into the gates, trying to break them down? I don’t know. But, it’s the baby gate he got down.
Thankfully, he’s too small to jump onto furniture and The Lawyer keeps a really clean condo, so there wasn’t that much mischief for him to get into. I noticed that he had rifled through the garbage, only to pull out a few pieces of paper, and he had also pulled down some of our laundry, which was sitting on a chair waiting to be washed.
I like how the lighting in the kitchen makes this look like a crime scene. "The suspect is a 12 inch tall shih tzu, weighing 14 pounds, and having a gray and auburn brindle."
"I'll take your dirty jeans and socks and throw them on the ground! And, THEN WHAT?!"
When we are around, he’s completely fine. He doesn’t need us to be in the same room and when The Lawyer’s cleaning service came today, I put him in his crate and he didn’t bark or cry. He just laid down and went to sleep.
That being said, any suggestions for dealing with the separation anxiety? Despite his cute face and ability to charm strangers, I’d prefer not to alienate the neighbors with his barking and bad behaviors when he's alone.