Who's Training Who?

A couple of months ago David and I adopted a four-year-old Yorkie from the local animal shelter and I've been wondering ever since just who is training who.

The first thing I did when we got her home was name her Tilda. Well, it wasn't the FIRST thing. The first thing we did was carpet our entire living room with new wall-to-wall potty training pads. They look so lovely that I'm thinking of papering the rest of the house with them. Just kidding. Or am I?

The second thing I did was name her Tilda. She was a dog who had gone rogue and was used to living by herself in the wild but for how long we don't know. I suspect it was long enough for her to forget how to live amongst the civilized. So the $64,000 question of "who's training who?" began.

So far I'm thinking Tilda is ahead of the game. She has trained me to give her a treat for not pottying in the house; for pottying in the house but managing to mostly hit the potty pads; for going outside to potty after I physically pick her up and put her outside; giving her a treat when we get up in the morning and when we go to bed; giving her a treat when I come home and she hasn't gone in the house or rewarding her for guarding the house against the evil United States Postal Vehicle, the UPS delivery person or the couple walking their dog in the street in front of our house. She also feels the need to be praised for barking at anything she feels threatens our existence such as the aforementioned delivery persons. At this rate, I'm going to need to buy shares in the doggie treat company just to break even.

Trying to break her treat habit, or at least lessen its hold on her, has not been easy. She was a mere seven and a half pounds when she moved in. She now weighs at least 10 or 11 and half of that has to be from her addiction. It's probably going to be like trying to get me to stop my daily habit of Diet Dr. Pepper. Nope, not gonna happen anytime soon.

One day one of our granddaughters brought over her very large Great Dane (is that redundant?) and she (the dog, not our granddaughter) was wearing a pretty (?) cloth diaper covered in flowers. I'd never seen one on a dog so I had an Epiphany. I immediately ordered some and by the next day I was teaching myself how to put a diaper on a dog with a stub of a tail. I figured to be safe I'd use a disposable diaper underneath. Two diapers would be better than one, right? Wrong. Somehow, without a tail to keep everything in place, she still managed to leave little 'deposits' around the house.

Anyhoo, in between diaper changes, I spent a great deal of time trying to break her potty pad habit by coaxing her to follow me outside or use the doggie door. What I ended up doing was going out with the bag of doggie treats and standing slightly out of her sight which was the only way she'd come on out. I'd throw her a treat and beat it back into the house.

After a few weeks, she somehow figured out how to use the doggie door on her own. Maybe she observed her 'sister' Molly coming in one day and a light went off in her head. Funny thing is, Molly will not go out using the doggie door. She still insists on letting herself out by pushing the screen door.

Once she figured out how to use the doggie door, she quit using our living room as her personal 'throne room'. She even quit doing it if we left her for a few hours.

Being a wild stray, she developed some annoying habits. She will NOT come when she's called. I've tried holding out a treat (which normally goes nuts over) and calling her but she refuses to come get it. I have no patience and will end up tossing it to her. (Another lesson she has taught me.)

At least she quit running from me, mostly, when I want to pick her up to take her to bed but she acts like I'm going to beat her when I do. She must have been abused in the past. I'm used to my other dogs running into the bedroom whenever I'd say, "Time to go night-night" but not her. I have to pick her up and carry her in. Then she turns around and waits for her treat. She's got me trained alright. Ha Ha.