I’m failing at housebreaking 101. I just can’t figure this out. I’m doing all the right things and just when I think it’s working….I turn around and step in poop. Or pee.
Wheaton does not know how to tell me he has to go. Correction, he doesn’t know why he SHOULD tell me he has to go!! Why should he when he’s been shitting and pissing in a cage for 4 years?? No one ever asked him if HE wanted to go outside to do his business THEN….WHY would they NOW??
I’m going to use ALL CAPS a lot in this post!!! Cause I’m MAD!!!! I’m FURIOUS!! I’m LIVID!!!!
But not at my Wheatie boy. He’s only doing what his 4 years IN A CAGE taught him to do…..I’M FURIOUS WITH THOSE A$$HOLES…THOSE MONSTERS….THOSE HUNGRY FOR PROFIT WASTE OF SPACE SCUMBAGS who put him…and all the other dogs…in a cage in the first place.
To those sub-human, abusive, ignorant *%$#@#$%^&*@ sons of BLEEPING MOTHER BLEEPERS…every single day when my poor boy cowers, when he flees to the corner, when he poops/pees on the floor, when he cringes from my touch, when he shrinks down as you approach him, when his poor little ears keep getting inflamed & infected (stemming from the worst impacted ear infections the vets had ever seen), when he does all the other twitches and twinges that show how much fear he still has within him….I CURSE YOU!!! If I ever found you…it would be your turn to live in a wire cage barely big enough to turn around in…eventually becoming caked in your own urine and feces…starving…hurting from sickness….overgrown nails and eyes and ears filled with pus from infection…etc etc…. You’re cowards so you wouldn’t last a day. My Wheaton lived this for FOUR F#$%ING YEARS. And while he suffered you counted your money from the pups he sired for you. SHAME ON YOU. It takes a special kind of VILE HEARTLESS MONSTER to make a living this way.
Okay. I don’t want to end on a bad note…or make it sound like it’s a horrible thing to have to clean up some poop or pee on the floor.
So, to the lovely and heroic F.A.A.R. Team, who took a chance that day, at that mill auction, and lifted their hand to bid on Wheaton….I think of you….when I take Wheaton for a walk and he’s excited to sniff and explore, when he runs around the fenced yard playing and enjoying freedom, when he rides in the back seat of the car sniffing the air from the open window, when he plays with Daisy and forgets his troubles, when he nudges my leg while waiting as I’m mixing his food, when he falls asleep on the couch and lets himself dream, when he tries a new food (like mangoes-which he loves), and most of all, at night, when he slowly creeps over to sleep next to me and sighs his puppy sigh and knows he’s safe.
In my book, you are heroes. Wheaton is just one case. You rescue hundreds from these horrible circumstances. “Thank You” just doesn’t seem to be enough words. My heart is fully in that “Thank you”.
It doesn’t matter if I’m always going to clean up a puddle or a pile somewhere….this is my boy and he is home.