One Very Bad Night

Since becoming dog owners, Brian and I have had a couple of Bad Nights. In fact, our first week with Mocha was a series of Bad Nights. Concerned that Mocha might experience separation anxiety from being taken away from her home and family, we put her crate right beside our bed. We were awakened multiple times a night to the urgent aroooos of a puppy with diarrhea, brought on by a dietary change and an overabundance of treats. However, Mocha’s system soon adjusted to her new diet & lifestyle, and she was sleeping from about 10pm to 6am. She never soiled in her crate, and although she still isn’t entirely housebroken, she is fairly clean in her toilet habits.

I am a model citizen

I am a model citizen

Except for this one time…

Brian and I went up to Richmond to see his sister’s new baby, Emily. Of course we took Mocha. In order to find dog-friendly lodging, we had to resort to a rather unsavory motel in a crummy part of Midlothian. Because Mocha had to spend much of the weekend cooped up in her crate, and because she had gotten carsick on the way up, and because I thought she was nearly eaten by a pit bull named Blue, we felt very sorry for her. So sorry, in fact, that we decided to let her have free run of the motel room that evening. We even broke Big Rule #2: No Dogs Allowed on the Furniture. We let her hop up on the bed with us. What does she do? Pops a squat and pees a nice big puddle right in the middle of the bed.

Brian and I looked at each other. “Um,” I started. “Uh…” Brian agreed. We ended up stripping the sheets, flipping the mattress, and sleeping on the comforter sleeping-bag style. (The comforter had avoided the golden shower because Brian had already spilled pink champagne on it and we’d thrown it in the floor. Suddenly pink champagne didn’t seem so bad.)

That was a Bad Night.

We didn’t have a Very Bad Night until Onyx arrived. Or, I should say, I didn’t have a Very Bad Night until Onyx arrived.

Don't be fooled... I brought on the Very Bad Night

Don't be fooled... I brought on the Very Bad Night

Onyx wasn’t adjusting particularly well to sleeping in her crate. She howled when we put her in, howled if she was in there for more than 30 minutes, howled if she heard us moving around in the house while she was confined. At first we used the crate divider so that Onyx had only just enough room. After a few nights, we decided she was accustomed enough that we could remove the divider and give her the whole crate. The first night was fine.

The second night, I was awakened at 1am by Onyx crying to be let out. I sighed. Brian and I both had major colds and felt like absolute zombies, but I dragged myself out of bed and into the dogs’ room. Despite my cold, I could smell something strange. Kind of earthy and wet. Still stupefied from sleep, I fumbled around in the dark and let Onyx out. When I took her outside, she wouldn’t pee. I figured it was because the grass was wet and cold, and there was a heavy, damp fog. “Look, heifer, I don’t want to be out here either,” I said, shoving her off the deck for the fourth time. Finally she ran around the corner of the house & squatted for a minute.

When I brought her back in the house, she refused to go into her crate. The wet, earthy smell seemed even more pungent. Dreading what I’d see, I turned on the light and looked inside.

At the back of her crate was an enormous pile of crap. Her blanket was wadded up in another corner, soaking wet with pee. I think I stood there gaping for two or three minutes.  Intellectually I knew how to get this cleaned up, and part of my mind was running through the procedure: doo-doo bags, paper towels, cleaning spray. But the other part kept saying, “What. The. Damn. WHO is going to clean this up?!”

I yelled for Brian to come hold Onyx while I got it cleaned up. I think he knew to steer clear of me for a little while. At one point I’m pretty sure I uttered the phrase, “Why the hell didn’t we get a cat?!”

On my hands and knees, head inside the poop-filled crate, muttering a variety of obscenities and threats, I eventually got the mess cleaned up. I dug the crate divider out of storage and said to Onyx, “You better believe that your little ass is earning back the privelege of having the entire crate.” Onyx, usually a very vocal dog, didn’t make another peep until morning. She knew she was in Big Trouble.

Twice the cuteness, twice the poop

Twice the cuteness, twice the poop


One Response to “One Very Bad Night”

  1. Onyx Arrives « Tales of a Dog-Loving Convert Says:

    […] As it turned out, Onyx’s toileting habits left much to be desired. Due to certain circumstances, she had become accustomed to doing her business on a rug before coming to live with us. Knowing this, we were a bit wary for the first couple of days. To our surprise, Onyx did fine. Then Mocha, who we had believed to be fairly well house-broken, began peeing on the living room rug. And behind the armchair in the den. And pretty much anywhere else she damn well pleased. Onyx soon followed suit. Brian and found ourselves constantly grabbing a squatting dog, yelling “Outside!”, and half-carrying the dribbling pup to the appropriate place.  The dogs started spending a lot more time outside. We would soon learn that the rug-puddles were nothing compared to what was coming… one very bad night. […]

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