Take that, Cesar!

As many of you know, one week ago tonight, we got a 13-week-old Boxer puppy named "Blue." He's now 14 weeks old, and his name is Asher, and that's a story in itself. But I'll have to save that for another time. Because last night, Asher/Blue left a mark on our home that none of us will ever forget.

It all started late afternoon when Heidi and I decided it would be nice to get a little bit of time away from the kids--and, I'll admit, the dog. When we got a puppy, I knew we were in for a handful of new responsibilities. But I had no idea my every waking hour would soon begin to revolve around his bladder and bowel movements. For a few days there, exercise, sex life, time with the kids--all of it went out the window until I got this dog figured out.

Thankfully, a few days prior to getting Asher, I watched some episodes of The Dog Whisperer, featuring renowned canine psychologist Cesar Millan. As anyone in my position quickly comes to appreciate, the guy is truly a genius. Through Cesar's show and one of his books--A Member of the Family: The Ultimate Guide to Living with a Happy, Healthy Dog--I picked up a tremendous amount of information in a very short time. Right from that first night, I showed Asher who was boss, what he could get away with, and what he couldn't. It's been a lot of work, but there's no way I'm going to let this four-legged, unremitting flatulator get the best of me.

So by the time Heidi and I prepared to leave last night, I felt confident that everything was under control. I took Asher out one last time and then left him in the capable hands of Heidi's parents, who kindly agreed to look after him and the kids while we went out on a date.

As dates go, it was a pleasant enough evening--supper at Sammy J. Peppers (not bad if you like a good burger and a UFC match blaring in your face as you eat it) followed by coffee at Starbucks and some time browsing books at Chapters. Relaxing, but not quite long enough, as usual.

By the time we pulled into the driveway three hours later, we naively hoped the kids were already in bed and that we could spend a bit more time just hanging out together. But sure enough, our three oldest were still awake. And when we got inside, it didn't take long to find out why.

As Dwight, my father-in-law, recounted to us, about half an hour before we got home, he was preparing to put Lark (our 20-month-old) to bed. As he went into our bedroom to shut the curtains, etc. (she sleeps in a crib in our walk-in closet), he noticed a terrible smell. Uh-oh...

Dwight sniffed around until he found a small pile of doggy doo behind the rocking chair. Turns out I hadn't quite mastered this mutt after all. So nice guy that he is, Dwight cleaned it up and thought that was the end of it. If only it was...

He was about to go get Lark when he noticed that the room still smelled horrible. So he took one last look around. That's when he peeked around on the floor on my side of the bed and found this*:

I don't know how, and I certainly don't know why, but somehow Asher had managed to do his business right on top of the very book that had inspired me to believe I could truly be the master of my domain. It was uncanny, unbelievable, unabashed, unappealing and most certainly unacceptable.

So, once again, Dwight cleaned things up (though none of us are ever likely to read the book again) took Asher out to do his business (as if there was anything left to do) then put him in his kennel to await our arrival. Needless to say, our kids laughed hysterically as Dwight told the story.

Twenty-four hours later, I still can't believe the audacity or the irony of it all. As my dad said when I told him the story: "Who says dogs can't read?" I seriously doubt Asher has it in for Cesar, and my faith in Cesar's wisdom is far from shaken. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't stop and wonder--if only for a moment--if someone is trying to send me a message...

*Note: If you look closely, you'll notice that it's "stunt poo" in the photo above, courtesy of my oldest son Huw. By the time this photo was taken, the original evidence of Asher's abashment was long gone.

Comments

[Richard Economedies]

I did the same thing to Spencer Tillman's book, but because I'd just been to Mexico it was more of a splatter then a plop

[G. Mortensen]

Say what you will but you have to give Asher "props" for having great aim.