5:45 Wake Up Call
My furry alarm clocks aren’t going off at the same time these days. This morning, my wake up call came at 5:45. I stayed in bed too long, because one of my ladies left a puddle on the bedroom carpet.
My experiment this morning was feeding them and then rushing back to bed before I became too wide awake. My fantasy was to maybe get at least another hour of sleep before we had to get up and get ready for church.
The girls weren’t having it though. They followed me back upstairs. Dottie kept scratching at the side of the bed and whining. Flower kept barking. I tried to tell them calmly to let me sleep, but my voice got louder when they wouldn’t stop. I guess we’ve created little monsters. I should make them sleep in 
kennels and just let them out when I come down. I hate to think of my life being ruled by these cute, little furry creatures.
Finally, at about 6:30, John said he’d get up and go downstairs. There was a good chance that his appearance would scare them and they would let me sleep. However, I was wide awake by then and 
thought turnabout was fair play. I came downstairs, calmly put a leash on Flower and carried her into the kitchen. I must have looked serious. It took only that much for her to poop on the floor, missing my clothes and feet, thankfully.
I carried her out, sat her on the grass, and gently tugged on the leash. No go. One of the people at PetSmart had told me that 
sometimes people put puppies in harnesses, pick them up, lean over and walk them “above” the ground, so they get the idea and then start touching their feet to the ground until they walk. I tried it a few times, but it didn’t work.
I finally just told myself not to look, and took some firm steps away from her, knowing she had to follow me or fight the lease. She fought the leash until John told me to let him try again. This time, I brought out one of the black harnesses, hoping we had tightened it enough that she couldn’t get out of it. As expected, she fought him for a few minutes and then did get out of her harness.
I decided the leash would have to do. I came up to her, now in her inside Safe Zone, and she sat there as I put the leash back on her. This time, I grabbed a hot dog on the way out. I coaxed her with it until she finally took a couple of steps towards me. Candy and Dottie were both outside and came running, either to see what was happening with her sister, or because they smelled the hot dog.
I don’t know if this is the right way to train, but I decided that every time Flower took some steps, they would all get a piece of hot dog. We walked back and forth across the yard several times. I hope that all the dogs’ brains register that they will get a treat when one of them is on a leash.
My method seemed to work well. When I was done, I just let go of the leash, so Flower would drag it around a while. She came right up to the porch and sat by me. She didn’t even seem afraid of John, who was sitting next to me.
Sometimes it seems overwhelming when I think of all that we need to accomplish. We need to teach them to walk on a leash, to ride in a car, to not be afraid of being groomed, to not be afraid of people, to not poop and pee on our hardwood floors and carpet. Life with three former puppy mill dogs is definitely not boring.
