7.28.2013
Born in the Year of the Jackass
There is a saying. Stubborn is as stubborn does. Well I think it’s actually “pretty” but it seems fitting in our case that it be “stubborn.” Miss Bettina has a fear of thunder. Once it starts to thunder and lightning, you will not get Bettina to do anything short of hiding in her safe place, panting, shaking and often, drooling. A few days ago, we had a line of severe thunderstorms go through right around bedtime. There was a lot of thunder and according to the weathermen, thousands of lightning strikes. Bettina would not go outside to potty before we went night night. Instead she lay on the bed next to me and shook like washing machine on spin cycle.
Then she woke me up somewhere around 4a because she had to pee so bad her back teeth were floating. So when it started to cloud over around dinner time a few evenings later, I started to panic.
I rushed dinner and shooed the kids out the door. It had started raining lightly but Bettina didn’t realize this until she got out onto the porch. The brakes went on and she started back-pedaling. I saw her little head cock to the side and I knew that she must be hearing thunder though it wasn’t close enough yet to be audible to me.
I closed the door quickly and started hollering through the door that she needed to pee pees. She stood pitifully at the door while the sky opened up and the light rain became a downpour. I started hollering louder that she needed to go pee pees. Yes, I say pee pees when speaking to my dogs. Meanwhile poor Blue, who has no problem with light rain, thunder or lightning, does have a problem with Mumma yelling. He is a sensitive boy and it doesn’t matter if I am yelling at Bettina, at the TV or at the computer. He takes it all to heart. Poor baby stood out in the yard as the rain poured down. He would start to come towards the back door and hear me yell to Bettina to go pee. He would stop; turn around as if to go pee again to comply with my demand. Except he’d realize he’d already gone pee.
Like a deer in the headlights he would turn back towards the door, stop, turn back towards his favorite pee place, stop, turn back towards the door. Finally he hit vapor lock and stood in the middle of the yard staring into space. I got Blue inside while keeping Bettina out on the porch. I put on my raincoat, took a leash outside with me and dragged her out to the middle of the yard. We stood in the pouring rain for more than 5 minutes as I tried to coax her to pee. She would head towards the back door, reach the end of the leash, turn and stare at me with a hairy eyeball then fruitlessly shake the gallons of water from her back.
The more I coaxed the more she seemed determined not to do anything that remotely resembled peeing. The rain was pouring down my raincoat and soaking my shorts. Bettina finished the job by trying to hide under the raincoat with me. I tried standing quietly to see if Bettina just needed to decide it was “her” decision to pee. Except she had no intention of peeing.
Finally the rain began to let up a bit and I figured I might just be able to out-stubborn her. That’s when the large clap of thunder broke right over our heads. At this point I knew that any opportunity I may have had to reason with Miss Fussypants had gone out the window as she was now firmly in the limbic part of her brain. I sighed and we went inside. I’m pretty sure she smiled.
After I changed into dry shorts she spent about 30 minutes shaking water all over me and rubbing her head and body up and down the couch I was sitting on. Once the rain stopped I attempted to politely coax Bettina out the door. When that wasn’t working I picked her up off the dog bed and stood her in the living room. I firmly grasped a greyhound buttock in each hand and hoisted her rear end off the floor. Then, like a demented game of wheel-barrow, I steered Bettina right out the door with only her two front feet pattering along while she tried to keep pace with her back-end. I stood on the porch as she glared at me for a few minutes. Then it happened. She turned, made her way down the stairs and with as much dignity as she could muster, took a nice long pee.
I rushed dinner and shooed the kids out the door. It had started raining lightly but Bettina didn’t realize this until she got out onto the porch. The brakes went on and she started back-pedaling. I saw her little head cock to the side and I knew that she must be hearing thunder though it wasn’t close enough yet to be audible to me.
I closed the door quickly and started hollering through the door that she needed to pee pees. She stood pitifully at the door while the sky opened up and the light rain became a downpour. I started hollering louder that she needed to go pee pees. Yes, I say pee pees when speaking to my dogs. Meanwhile poor Blue, who has no problem with light rain, thunder or lightning, does have a problem with Mumma yelling. He is a sensitive boy and it doesn’t matter if I am yelling at Bettina, at the TV or at the computer. He takes it all to heart. Poor baby stood out in the yard as the rain poured down. He would start to come towards the back door and hear me yell to Bettina to go pee. He would stop; turn around as if to go pee again to comply with my demand. Except he’d realize he’d already gone pee.
The more I coaxed the more she seemed determined not to do anything that remotely resembled peeing. The rain was pouring down my raincoat and soaking my shorts. Bettina finished the job by trying to hide under the raincoat with me. I tried standing quietly to see if Bettina just needed to decide it was “her” decision to pee. Except she had no intention of peeing.
Finally the rain began to let up a bit and I figured I might just be able to out-stubborn her. That’s when the large clap of thunder broke right over our heads. At this point I knew that any opportunity I may have had to reason with Miss Fussypants had gone out the window as she was now firmly in the limbic part of her brain. I sighed and we went inside. I’m pretty sure she smiled.
After I changed into dry shorts she spent about 30 minutes shaking water all over me and rubbing her head and body up and down the couch I was sitting on. Once the rain stopped I attempted to politely coax Bettina out the door. When that wasn’t working I picked her up off the dog bed and stood her in the living room. I firmly grasped a greyhound buttock in each hand and hoisted her rear end off the floor. Then, like a demented game of wheel-barrow, I steered Bettina right out the door with only her two front feet pattering along while she tried to keep pace with her back-end. I stood on the porch as she glared at me for a few minutes. Then it happened. She turned, made her way down the stairs and with as much dignity as she could muster, took a nice long pee.
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