When we last left our slobbering puppy, I had just reported on her consumption of an entire batch of M&M cookies (M&M is a registered trademark of M&M Mars. any similarities to persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidence. offer void where prohibited) Later that same week, I got a call from Jamie at work that started with 'YOUR DOG...' Uh-oh. Jamie had put cinnamon rolls on a baking dish and had a seat in the living room while waiting for the oven to heat up. 'I turned my back for 2 minutes Mom!' Ruby ate 5 of the 8 cinnamon rolls before Jamie's cat-like reflexes stopped her progress. They caused her little gastrointestinal issues, other than some serious gas for the next three days. And let's just say, it smelled nothing like cinnamon rolls. Jamie was a trooper and said 'I was only going to eat three cinnamon rolls anyway.' What a sport.
Cute and adorable and blog-worthy as it is, the dog eating off the counter is unacceptable. Yelling doesn't work and she is hard to catch in the act. And so far, we've not found ANYTHING she won't eat. So, we've pulled out the big guns to combat this latest behavior issue.
It is known simply as 'THE CAN.'
The can is just what it looks and sound like. Except it has a handful of pennies in it. Aunt Pam gave us the idea for THE CAN. A few times of shaking the can loudly when Ruby is... 1)eating Sophie's food 2)chasing the feline 3) counter-surfing 4)barking at people daring to walk in the neighborhood 5) snorking through the neighbor's compost pile 6)digging in the yard 7)etc 8)etc 9) etc...renders her so terrified she cowers and hides. Even food won't bring her near when she sees THE CAN. It is so effective, we have to use it very sparingly. Even picking up THE CAN quickly and causing the aluminum to pop or a penny to shift sends her scurrying for cover. I'm thinking of marketing THE CAN. Maybe I can get that dog whisperer dude to put his name on it.
So now, if there are baked goods of any kind unsecured on the counter, THE CAN will be found sitting at the edge. She will see it, and then go lay down as if to say 'i'll be a good dog i promise i'll be a good dog i really really will!'
Ruby's other new slip-up is in the poop department. We seem to be stumbling on the ability to TELL the humans it is time to go out. So several nights in a row, she snuck downstairs and pooped in the front living room. When we shut doors, she pooped in OUR bathroom. And even during the day, she would be unable to tell us she needed to go out. Another friend, with a tiny snack dog, gave us a great idea.
We call it THE BELL.
Ruby caught on right away, as did Zamboni the cat though it is more delightful toy than alarm device for him. Ruby uses it for good, and evil (there's a cat in the yard and I need to chase it), but she is using it. Training her on it was easy. I won't open the door until she rings it. One morning when she had been sent to isolation in her kennel for the night for NOT popping before bed (not so much as punishment, just because I knew she would go in the night), she was whining to wake up. I opened her kennel, she RACED to the door and rang that bell like the cook on a cattle drive.
Since it seems to have caught on with her, I need to get a couple of bells. Then I can stop bringing one to the bedroom door every night.
Maybe I'll market this as well. I'll do an infomercial. I'll make millions.
Ruby recently broke the 80 pound mark. That means she weighs more than a bag of concrete. That means I can't lift her AT ALL any longer. She's still taking 6 Benadryl a day for the breakouts on her feet. If I miss a dose, I will see her chewing and licking her feet. I hope this stops after summer. Or that the Benadryl had some calming effect. But it seems to do the opposite. **sigh**
Zamboni the cat has been spending considerable time outside this summer. He has a couple of cat friends that we see him hanging out with and they usually appear fairly companionable. Last week something went terribly wrong with the cat we call Big Orange Cat and a scuffle broke out outside the living room window. Zam came in unscathed, but shaken. Big Orange took off. Ruby was in the family room window on point. Not sure if she was worried about her cat or simply curious. I'd like to think her brain goes that deep, but let's face it, this is the dog that is afraid of THE CAN. So probably not. But the picture was cute:
As if she didn't have enough reasons to attack every dark object, leaf, stick, and acorn on the ground right now, it is cicada season. And Ruby finally got one. Their noise is deafening. Otherwise, they are completely harmless. And since there are plenty of them, I've sacrificed a couple for Ruby's enjoyment.
Call PETA. I. Don't. Care. It's funny.
I always like to leave with my favorite picture of the week. I started down the basement stairs last week and saw a few piece of fluff on the floor. When I got to the bottom, I found this:
At least it was her own bed and not one of our couches or something. Brat.
More later.
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