August 10, 2007

Don't Make Me

My dog has been training to become a criminal from the first day I got him. He can steal things faster than the human eye can detect. On day two, he learned to chew. On day six, he learned to chew destructively and steal garbage. On day seven, the room would become a mess of shredded trash every time I left him unattended (and many times when I merely turned my back).

The only answer was to become a ninja and fight back. Who can resist an opportunity to booby trap his own house at the expense of a lesser creature? Not this little red alien.

First I got a couple of water pistols off Ebay. He haaaates them. I merely need to pick up the gun and he stops whatever he's doing and gets all wiggly with repentance. If he's willfully disobeying and I catch him, a couple good jets to whatever he's ruining will send him off without any delay.

This seems to work pretty well when I'm in the room. But what to do when I can't see the little bastard? Some crimes, like counter-surfing, require your absence to pull off. For instance, he's taken to either climbing or jumping over his 4-foot-high gates while I'm at the grocery store. Also, he enjoys eating, shredding, and scattering whatever he finds in the garbage can, which is precisely what he did last night to cause my inner ninja to take over.

I'd heard great things about the old pennies-in-a-soda-can trick, and thought I should start by giving that a try. I took a can out of the recycle bin and tied a string to it. I attached piece of bloody, greasy butcher paper to the other end of the string. The dog watched all of this quite intently, because meat was involved.

I put the paper in the trash and the can on the edge of the counter, and I turned my back. Two seconds later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sneaking over to the trash can. My smile widened. He nibbled and sniffed. I waited.

CRAAAAASH MOTHERFUCKING WHAT THE FUCK! The dog fled the kitchen like someone had just stuck President Bush up his ass.

Encouraged by my success, I made two more bait cans and planted them in the garbage. They're still in place. I saw him flirting with the trash this morning, but he couldn't get up the courage. The internal struggle was quite hilarious to watch.

And now for the Houdini problem. He has no respect whatsoever for his baby gates, and it shows.

So, I took two cans and balanced them atop the gate. Walked away. Three minutes later, he's whining and trying to get out, and CRAAAASH! I hurry over to find the dog sitting all meek and innocent in his bed on the bathroom floor, looking at me like he wants to tell me about some horrible thing that's just happened to him, only he doesn't have the words. No need, Captain Stupid. The pop can on the floor says it all.

I put it back in place, but it never fell again. He had finally learned to respect the enclosure. For an experiment, I took away the top gate. He could jump the remaining one in his sleep, as it's only 2 feet high. Yet he hasn't even tried. Two cans of change bar his way and mock him with their silent vigilance.

He's been in there for over an hour, mostly quiet, heeding the tiny formality of a barrier as if it were a three-inch-thick steel plate welded into the door frame. HA.

A friend of Seebs' came over, and the Captain (who normally goes nuts in a jumpy/licky sort of way) merely sat behind his gate and carried on a little bit.

Next, I'm going to attach cans of change to my shoes before I go to bed. We'll just SEE if those laces get mangled tonight.

The monster-dog next door has a big bowl of water. Looks like the neighbor got a visit from the animal control fairy!

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