Perry is the New Ghandi

Okay, so the puppy potty-training has been going well, aside from a massive slip-up earlier this week, when we were getting ready for bed as usual. This requires us rounding up the dogs and making sure they stay upstairs with us while we brush our teeth and change into our night clothes and set the alarm clock. No biggie, right? Riiiiight....

We finish brushing our teeth and Stefan heads into the bedroom where I promptly hear him yell "OH....MY....GOD!!!" I rush in, and see what he is pointing at (words have failed him now) and see a huge wet pee stain right smack in the middle of the bed. Cubby immediately tucks his tail, and makes a bee-line for his crate (his usual punishment). We pull back the comforter and sheets and only by the grace of the powers above has this massive wet stain not soaked through to the mattress, otherwise I'd be writing a different post right now about how we only have 2 dogs instead of 3 (this is a great reason to get into the habit of making your bed everyday, by the way - the layers of sheets saved us).

I'm really tired and really pissed, so I mentioned I thought Cubby did not deserve to sleep in the house tonight. We should put him in the pen outside in the back yard. Stefan agrees - his usual punishment just doesn't fit this crime. So I drag Cubby out of his crate and proceed to carry him downstairs and outside and I lock him in the pen.

Now, Cubby isn't your normal puppy. He doesn't whine or howl. He screams. And when he screams, he sounds like a goose being mercilessly chased by an ax murderer. You know how most animals and children, if given enough time, will settle down into their punishment and accept their fate and usually stop crying and fall asleep? Yeah, Cubby's not like that, either. He screamed and honked ALL NIGHT LONG. Want to know how I know? I am the world's lightest sleeper. I was ready to either bring him back into the house (which I didn't dare do, because he'd only learn that if he is persistent long enough, I will cave to his demands), or go out there and sucker-punch him. I did neither.

As customary, after the alarm went off, we let Perry outside to pee. As I looked out the bathroom window to make sure Cubby hadn't strangled himself, I saw that Cubby had worked a pretty sizeable hole in the side of the pen, where he could fit his head and shoulders through. Perry rushed out to see his brother, and next thing I knew, Perry had crawled through the hole in the pen to keep Cubby company. Then he sat down and stared back at us, as though staging his very own sit-in.

We ate breakfast, and Perry's passive resistance campaign continued. He sat stone still, never moving from his spot, never taking his eyes off the back door, ears cocked straight forward. We knew he was campaigning for the release of his brother. So we caved.

I think maybe Perry was Ghandi in a past life.