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Patience

Patience

Patience

I thought Finn taught me patience. However, the older I get, the less I’m sure I know about anything—life, love, dog behavior.

And, even though Gavin needed a profoundly compassionate, mushy, soft approach to anything and everything I asked of him, I’m learning that I know nothing about patience.

Mabel and I are having so much fun. We enjoy long morning walks, getting silly and rowdy, playing tug, bonding while practicing fun training cues, new and old, and sharing snacks (we love eating). Snuggle time is dreamy; Mabel often rests her head on my shoulder, snoring or stretched out on my lap, belly up.

However, there are still moments in Agility Class when Mabel’s standing on her back legs, squealing like a pig while staring at another dog, and I must silently chant, “She’s struggling.” 

And, as a neatnik, my least favorite behavioral blip is Mabel’s peeing in the apartment on two separate days, seconds or minutes after she’d peed outside. How I approach these hiccups best helps my sweet girl.

The first day Mabel peed on the floor, we’d gone to a newish park trying to find a regular afternoon walk spot on a non-sweltering day. I was sure I nailed her wind down when we got home. Mabel and I played tug, then our pattern game of “place, pause, find, place, pause, pause, find.” When Mabel laid down, frog-dog style, I interpreted that as her telling me she was ready to disengage. So I opened the front door for my girl to window-watch while doing chores because she enjoys chilling there.  

Mabel peed once. “Whoops,” I thought and cleaned it up. Then, I took her outside and rewarded Mabel for peeing on the mulch. Her second and third inside accidents, I chalked up to my sweet girl’s love of and drinking tons of water when we got home, so we trekked outside where Mabel-marks-a-lot peed again. Yet, the fourth time Mabel peed in the kitchen, I muttered quietly and non-harshly, “Dang it, Mabel,” or so I thought. 

I finished making Mabel’s dinner and assumed when she was out of sight that she was lying on her place, something she does all the time because we practice it frequently. But no, she was sitting beside the closet, looking confused with a puddle of pee behind her. That’s when I thought Mabel had a bladder or urinary tract infection.

Still, I felt terrible that my mumbling scared my girl. I sat on the floor, and Mabel wiggled up next to me. I repeatedly said, “I’m sorry,” and made a mental note to be kinder and more patient when she made a mistake. Fortunately, after five pees in an hour, the rest of the night, and the following day, Mabel was her usual perfect-pee-outside-only self.

We had one more door-peeing incident after a stimulating event, and I said nothing, cleaned it up, and went outside together. My working theory is that watching the occasional pedestrian (often a neighbor she knows and loves) walk by our front door after excitement, even after winding down and taking a potty break, is just too much for Mabel.

We’ve been inside pee-free again for days, and Mabel’s happy to get snacks again when she goes “pee pee” outside.

And, as always, I’m learning more from my dog than anything I teach her. Mabel (as did Finn and Gavin) repeatedly reminds me that there’s no such thing as being too kind, too patient, or too compassionate. May your day and weekend be filled with people who are patient with you when you pee on the floor (not literally, of course).

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