Good boy indeed.
Dog update: I think Wicket's fate (with us, anyway) is finally settled.
I came home tonight from our store's [post-] Christmas staff party at Treasures of China (note to self: peking duck is kind of gross, and pina coladas are gooood), and discovered Wicket fenced into the kitchen again.
It seems my aunt has really faced the fact that she can't keep him. Despite following the best advice she's been able to get from people who own both dogs and cats, all her animals have been miserable with each other. Even Wicket, she found, was starting to get down about the fact that he couldn't get the cats to play with him. And her condo simply isn't big enough for them to avoid each other. She says (Mom reports) that she knows she can't leave all three animals in this unhappy situation.
But Wicket isn't going to end up staying with us. Mom's firm on this, to the point of inventing stories about what a Bad Dog he is. (Apparently, his sister is already perfectly paper-trained, while Wicket is still wickedly wetting the floor. Oh, and Wicket BARKS when he plays. TRUFAX. *eyerolls* I asked her to tell me if she's ever met a dog that doesn't bark when it gets wound up playing.)
And my sister is adamant that our household shouldn't have a dog. ("And besides, he's a real wall-eyed little bastard.") I defended his cuteness despite the strabismus, which just resulted in mockery of my convergence insufficiency. ("You and your dog are both lazy-eyed!") TEH WORLD IZ KONSPYEREEN WOE.
So my aunt has asked my mother to take Wicket back to the breeder for her. She evidently feels that if Wicket stays with her, she'll never find the steel to take him back herself, so she told my mother to take Wicket away from her, as soon as possible.
So he's here for the night, and going back to the breeder on Monday.
A part of me is still upset to part with him when we've just given him an identity, but I feel a lot better nevertheless knowing that he WON'T be cooped up in a kennel and neglected all day at my aunt's.
We'll be sending him back with a "care package" including the toys and treats and things he's collected in the past week and the finished dog sweater (which is a bit too big, but he'll obviously grow into it). And I plan to make up a list of links about stabismus/eye disorders in dogs for Wicket's next owner - I'll get Mom to stick that in with his stuff somewhere.
Oh! And he's doing better about peeing on his pads today! When I came downstairs after my bath tonight I said hello to him and noticed he was starting to smell funny, so I picked him up and put him on the nearest pad.
Instead, he waddled over to the other one himself and peed. I gave him lots of ear scratches and pets for that, and got him a doggy biscuit. They're far too big for him, so I broke them up into itty-bitty pieces and left him to it.
It occurred to me about ten minutes later though that he could choke on them, and I wouldn't hear it down here in the basement. Irrational, since I'm sure his kibble bits are bigger than the chunks I left him, but I popped upstairs quickly to check on him just in case.
And he's pooped on the pad! He's NEVER done that before! He's always gone on the carpet.
Might send him back a bit better trained after all!
*iz proud of Wicket*
I came home tonight from our store's [post-] Christmas staff party at Treasures of China (note to self: peking duck is kind of gross, and pina coladas are gooood), and discovered Wicket fenced into the kitchen again.
It seems my aunt has really faced the fact that she can't keep him. Despite following the best advice she's been able to get from people who own both dogs and cats, all her animals have been miserable with each other. Even Wicket, she found, was starting to get down about the fact that he couldn't get the cats to play with him. And her condo simply isn't big enough for them to avoid each other. She says (Mom reports) that she knows she can't leave all three animals in this unhappy situation.
But Wicket isn't going to end up staying with us. Mom's firm on this, to the point of inventing stories about what a Bad Dog he is. (Apparently, his sister is already perfectly paper-trained, while Wicket is still wickedly wetting the floor. Oh, and Wicket BARKS when he plays. TRUFAX. *eyerolls* I asked her to tell me if she's ever met a dog that doesn't bark when it gets wound up playing.)
And my sister is adamant that our household shouldn't have a dog. ("And besides, he's a real wall-eyed little bastard.") I defended his cuteness despite the strabismus, which just resulted in mockery of my convergence insufficiency. ("You and your dog are both lazy-eyed!") TEH WORLD IZ KONSPYEREEN WOE.
So my aunt has asked my mother to take Wicket back to the breeder for her. She evidently feels that if Wicket stays with her, she'll never find the steel to take him back herself, so she told my mother to take Wicket away from her, as soon as possible.
So he's here for the night, and going back to the breeder on Monday.
A part of me is still upset to part with him when we've just given him an identity, but I feel a lot better nevertheless knowing that he WON'T be cooped up in a kennel and neglected all day at my aunt's.
We'll be sending him back with a "care package" including the toys and treats and things he's collected in the past week and the finished dog sweater (which is a bit too big, but he'll obviously grow into it). And I plan to make up a list of links about stabismus/eye disorders in dogs for Wicket's next owner - I'll get Mom to stick that in with his stuff somewhere.
Oh! And he's doing better about peeing on his pads today! When I came downstairs after my bath tonight I said hello to him and noticed he was starting to smell funny, so I picked him up and put him on the nearest pad.
Instead, he waddled over to the other one himself and peed. I gave him lots of ear scratches and pets for that, and got him a doggy biscuit. They're far too big for him, so I broke them up into itty-bitty pieces and left him to it.
It occurred to me about ten minutes later though that he could choke on them, and I wouldn't hear it down here in the basement. Irrational, since I'm sure his kibble bits are bigger than the chunks I left him, but I popped upstairs quickly to check on him just in case.
And he's pooped on the pad! He's NEVER done that before! He's always gone on the carpet.
Might send him back a bit better trained after all!
*iz proud of Wicket*