A few words about dancing and peeing

This is exactly the dance that Angus does when I bring out his bowl of food. I do make him sit, and I try to make him wait, but really all he wants to do is dance. (And eat.)

I need to think about this sheer innocent exuberance in order to keep from killing him when he exasperates me, which, I must admit, he does daily. Hourly. Minutely.

Take this morning, for instance. It started great: he slept through the night! All the way to 5 a.m.! All credit to the high school girl who had a snow day yesterday and so played with the dogs for a full hour in the back yard. Anyone who can wear out a puppy--wear out my puppy--is a saint.

I took Rosie and Angus for a half-hour walk through the park, no disasters, though Angus started chewing on the leashes about ten minutes from home, and Rosie saw a fox and went ballistic. But that was fine, a slight irritation (especially to sleeping neighbors, I fear) but not really a full aggravation.

No, the problem arose ten minutes before my bus. I could have just put Angus to bed and frittered away the last few minutes on Facebook, but I figured, I have a live animal! Two of them! Way better than virtual animals!

So I opened the back door and shooed them out. I turned to get my coat and I heard the all-too-familiar pssssssss sound. Yes, Angus was peeing on the back porch. I guess the back porch is, technically, outside, but it is not an authorized place to pee, and this was the second time in two days he has done this.

I yelled. I did, I yelled. NOOOOOOOO! And Angus looked up, startled. I grabbed him, hustled down the stairs, plopped him in the snow, and he resumed his pee.

Back in the house. I was putting on my boots when I heard psssssssss. Yes, Angus was peeing again, what appeared to be a gallon of pee, right on the living room rug.

"Sorry."

 I did, I yelled again. NOOOOOOO! The problem with yelling is (a) I'm not supposed to do it, according to the puppy teacher, and (b) it upsets Rosie, who doesn't know why I'm angry, and who flies over to my side and tries to crawl in my lap.

Needless to say, I missed my bus.

I put Angus back out, brought him back in, and put him in his bed.

Never was I so happy to slam the crate door on a puppy.

I ran into a neighbor at the bus stop and griped to her. She laughed. Her dog, she said, was the same way as a puppy. I got on the bus. And all the way to work, all I could think about was, I miss him! I can't wait to go home!

(Of course, now that I am home, he is chewing holes in our orange afghan...but at least he's not peeing on it.)