Rain and Housetraining

Iiiiiiiiitttttttttt's raining outside.

Not just raining, but angry-heaven raining that's been going on for three (four?) days now.  Which means our backyard is a mud pit.  It won't be a mud pit for long: the housing maintenance guys came by to measure for the sod and they plan to fix it soon.  Of course, they measured to re-sod about three weeks ago and it was in response to my December 28 work order, so let's take "soon" with an ocean of salt.  Which is better than an ocean of mud which, incidentally, can be used interchangeably with "my backyard."

This means that Madigan is in the house... all day... every day...

It was nice at first.  The rain cut the heat and she and I have been folding laundry together.  She's enjoyed more than her share of treats.  She's been great with the kids, so sweet with us, and completely incompetent at, you know, NOT POOPING IN MY HOUSE.

We've been walking her in the morning and the evening but (as I understand) many dogs have issues with going during an active rain.  I've been trying to go out in the dryer moments, made walks more frequent, and I'm praising her a lot when she pees, but somehow she just won't go.

As usual, this wouldn't be as much of a problem if it was just between us, but I have two particular individuals who make the situation that much more fun.

Yesterday, Audrey saw it.  There was a pool of pee from the dining table that was quickly approaching the rug in the living area, where the dog had left a huge pile.  I immediately lurched into action, cleaned it up, Resolved the crap out of the carpet (haha, see what I did there?) and bleached the tile floor.  I'm not kidding.  That stuff's disgusting.  Audrey, meanwhile, decided to seize the moment with her best impression of a two-year-old who has discovered questions.

"MOM!  Did Madigan pee and poop in the HOUSE?  WHY did Madigan pee and poop in the house?  Madigan!  Do NOT pee and poop in the house ANYMORE!  Mom!  Is Madigan supposed to pee and poop in the house?  Why did she pee and poop?  Does Madigan always pee and poop?  Are you cleaning up the pee and poop?"

I think I almost vomited more from the repeated reference than the actual cleaning.

Tonight, I actually had a day-long job interview (exciting, right?), then we had dinner, and everything was going well.  Madigan was inside, didn't try to eat anyone's chicken, and waited calmly through our dinner, which she spent in her crate because we really don't trust her with our chicken (and Audrey, who is very generous).  When we let her out of the crate, she was jumping and it seemed like she wanted to go out so I praised her for letting me know and we went outside.

Where she didn't... do... anything.

We went inside.  She still freaked out.  We went outside.  I expanded the walk to right next to our backyard.  She peed.  She sniffed around.  I waited.  I felt a bite on my ankle.  I felt another bite on my calf.  I looked at my sneaker and, in the faint light from the street, saw the FIRE ANTS crawling ALL over my right foot.

I was standing on a fire ant hill and my dog was still sniffing.

Because God created fire ants to torment people while they are trying to do the right thing.

Five more fire ant bites.  I waited.  I felt another bite on my calf.  That was it.  I moved away from the backyard, closer to the street.  I'm still outside with a fire ant family reunion on my foot, but I WAITED BECAUSE I WAS PROUD OF MY DOG.

We went inside.  I took off my shoes and threw them out the front door.  I picked all the ants out of the welcome mat and squished them.  I pulled my pant legs up and found more, which also met their end rolled in my fingers.  The dog was calm, so I went in the kitchen to wash my hands.

I felt eyes looking at me and glanced to my left.

Our eyes met.

My dog was squatting.  In my house.

After we had been outside twice.  For that very purpose.  And I had suffered for it.

Just to drive that point home, at that very moment, one of the ants in my jeans bit the back of my knee.  Again.

I took Madigan outside again, wearing a different pair of shoes.  I waited again.  She tried to walk across the street.  I pulled her into my yard.  After a moment, she just sat and looked at me.  I felt an ant bite the bottom of my toe.  I backed off the yard and looked at the shoe, again covered in ants from a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PART OF THE YARD.  So help me, my dog is in league with the little demons.

We went inside and she went to her crate.  I took my shoes off and scoured them for ants.  I took off my jeans, turned them inside out, and picked 11 fire ants off of them, include three that had been super-sized.  I don't know what we've been feeding them.

So there I was, without pants or shoes, and trying desperately to figure out whether the stings I felt were old or continued punishment for walking the dog in the rain.  That, of course, is the moment Sebastian asked me to bring juice to his bed.

I opened the door.  He noted my lack of pants.  I told him he was one to talk.  I also mentioned that I had ants in my pants from walking Madigan after she pooped on the floor.

"MOM!" He said.
"Yes Honey?"
"You need to turn around and look to see if poop is coming out of the heiny!"
"What?"
"You need to LOOK and SEEEEEE if poop is coming OUT of Madigan's heiny and if it IS you get the LEASH and you put it ON her and you take her OUTSIDE and she will poop OUTSIDE and then she won't poop in your HOUSE!  You needed to get the LEASH this time and she will not poop in your house next time!"

I let the door close on its own.  I don't need another small creature stinging me repeatedly about this poop thing.

I can't wait until the rain stops.