DNA, Shmee N A

          Probably the hottest trend right now is tracing your DNA.  I have friends who are over the moon excited to find out that they’re part Cherokee or Russian or Chinese, when they thought were 100 % Irish through and through.  And it is exciting.

          So I thought I’d see if you can do this with dogs.  Because that’s how my mind works.  Of course, there’s no use doing it with AKA-registered show dogs; their backgrounds are already documented on paper. It would only be fascinating to do it with mutts you’ve rescued.

          And, as a long-time mutt rescuer, I have often wondered what accounts for not only the odd appearances of my pets, but their odd behavior. 

Because this is just a blog and not a book, we shall deal exclusively with my current dog, Mickey. I believe that if I traced her bloodline, it would lead directly to a muskrat, as she will burrow under anything she can.  Somehow, in a miracle of science, a muskrat and a dog must have bred centuries ago.

And as long as we're mixing species, her eating habits would indicate that she may also be a small percentage frog, chicken, owl, or snake, because she gulps her food down whole, as do those same creatures.
It’s also possible that her line includes a fictional, animated mouse, since there is a Mickey Mouse silhouette on her back-- nature’s way of shouting truth, right?

As for actual dogs in her line, let’s start with her breed.  The shelter said she was a Taco Terrier, a designer dog created by breeding a Chihuahua with a Miniature Fox Terrier.

          Now, Taco Terrier is a cute, alliterative name, but it is also the PERFECT RECIPE for a dog that cannot be housebroken.  If you look up a list of dogs tough to potty train, Chihuahuas will lead the list, followed by other toy breeds.  “Miniature” is a clue, and I believe actually refers to their bladders.

          In addition, terriers are known for being stubborn, independent, feisty, and not wanting to be team players with humans.  So, if you had the diabolical plan to create the perfect storm of an untrainable dog who piddles all over the house, you would breed a Chihuahua with a miniature terrier, hence Taco Terriers.

          Of course, I didn’t know this when we simply chose her based upon adorableness.  

          I didn’t even look at the paperwork from the person who surrendered her until years later, when I noticed that in the box labeled “Housebroken?” they had written, “Somewhat.”

          Folks, you cannot be somewhat housebroken. It’s like being somewhat pregnant.  Either you are or you are not.

          And so the housebreaking ordeal of the century began, and, despite her DNA, at long last we have a dog we can trust.  Somewhat.

          If you can take your eyes off your dog, settle down with a good book, or some short YouTube mom videos.  You can find them all here.

          

Breaking the House

              St. Bob and I have a policy: No puppies.  We love dogs and always have a rescue pooch or two around the house, but for ten years or so we’ve agreed only to adopt dogs one year old, or older.

            Why is this, you ask?  Okay, you may not have asked it, but I’m telling you why.  Puppies, despite being one of the most adorable creatures ever, do not come into the world potty-trained.  They piddle at will, and they chew on things constantly-- as evidenced by this book of ours-- chewed on by one of our dogs.  The irony is unmistakable:

By the time you get them house-broken, it is entirely possible that your house will indeed be broken. 

            To prevent sofas, shoes, lamp cords, and everything else you own from being chewed, you take two safety measures.  First, put away all that you can, certainly your shoes, socks, and handbags.  Second, give your dog plenty of approved chew toys.

            As for housebreaking, here’s how you do it:  You take off a week and you do nothing else that entire week except watch the dog like a hawk.  You take him outside every half hour, giving him no chance whatsoever to piddle inside.  When he piddles outside, you reward him.  Over and over, for days on end.  Eventually he gets it that he has to piddle outside.  If he has an accident inside, you do not scream or beat the dog—you simply start over again.  Smart dogs will learn in a week’s time.  Semi-smart dogs might take a couple of weeks.

            And then there’s Mickey.

            Mickey is in the group that cannot remember and, just as you might love a dopey friend, can still be part of our family.  But she is a scalawag who cannot be trusted, so she is confined to a large downstairs area with baby gates.  After flawlessly using her doggie door for an entire year, I gave in to that big-eyed pathetic look she has mastered, and gave her a chance at the rest of the house. 

             Big mistake.  And, really, it’s my own fault, because St. Bob and our daughter, Nicole, brought her home from the shelter—at six months old-- and I didn’t read through the stack of paperwork carefully.  Most notably, I missed the line where her previous owner was asked if she was housebroken and wrote, “Somewhat.”

             You see, there is no “somewhat” when it comes to being housebroken.  It’s like being pregnant—you are or you aren’t.  If a dog is still having accidents, even if they’re months apart, she is not housebroken.

             It doesn’t mean I don’t pamper and spoil her. 

             Low IQ or not, she gets more love and attention than most people.  She just doesn’t get to piddle under the piano.  She also doesn’t have to worry that a bouncy new puppy will be joining the clan anytime soon.

For a book that you may wish to devour, check out my newest novels here.