I would mutter at them with lowered brows as I shuffled through my house in the dark. Shivering and huddled by the back door, I would watch for the errant, stupid dogs to run around the back of the house, do their business, then get back inside, so I could return to my warm bed.
Today was different.
When I heard a dog whine at 2:19 am today, my heart was glad. Why? Because it was raining outside.
My dogs were both adopted strays. One of the biggest challenges we faced in welcoming them into our family was training them to go potty outside. In the beginning they had absolutely no grasp of this concept. They ruined all of my carpets, and I despaired. Every day brought multiple new accidents, and my husband and I struggled to teach our two adult mutts that it isn't okay to pee in the house.
Our black miniature pincher mix, Olive, caught on first. She was eager to please and sensitive to scolding, so it wasn't too hard to teach her that she shouldn't go potty in the house. Putting the dogs in a crate at night prevented most of the problem, because they wouldn't pee in their own bed. They learned that it was possible to wait until we let them out. Crate training finished off Olive's education, and she rarely had accidents in the house anymore.
Ziggy was much more difficult. His laid-back personality made scolding roll off of him like water off of a duck. He was indifferent to treats and praise, and he would stand at the back door and look up at us from outside the glass with a questioning gaze.
"Why did you make me come out here? I won't have to pee for another 10 minutes, and it's much nicer inside. Let me back in, please." Again, I despaired.
We discovered by accident that Ziggy will always go pee outside if you put him on a leash and take him for a walk. He gets so excited about the new smells and bushes that he does his business naturally. We began taking him for short walks to go potty, praising him every time he anointed a bush or telephone pole, and he slowly started to make the connection. Soon he would let us know that he had to go potty and wanted to go outside. Progress.
Unless it was raining.
If it was raining, Ziggy refused to leave the door. He would ask to go out, realize it was raining, then turn right back around and scratch to come back inside. Being rained on made him so miserable that he refused to walk out into the yard, smell anything, or do his business.
I grabbed an umbrella, put his leash on, and took him down the block. Sure enough, he found a telephone pole and peed. Success, but imperfect. I wanted him to figure out that he could walk out the door into our yard, find a place, and pee, even if it was raining.
The next time it rained, I stood outside the door with him. "You can do it!" I cried. "See? It's raining on me, too. We're fine. Just go pee!" His pitiful face looked up into mine as he scratched on the door.
"Please, Mom. This is awful. Can we please just go back inside?"
"No! You can do it! Let's go find a bush."
I picked him up and carried him into the yard, set him down, and it worked! He smelled the bush and obediently lifted his leg. "Good boy! Let's go in!" We ran through the rain together, triumphant.
This became our routine every time it rained. Pleading, scratching at the door, he would wallow in misery until I picked him up and carried him to a place where he felt comfortable enough to achieve success. We would face the rain together. When he overcame his misery, I would cheer for him, rub his smelly wet-dog ears, and tell him what a good boy he was.
Finally, after many trips back and forth to the door to beg to come in out of the rain, Ziggy ran into the yard by himself. I followed him and peeked around the corner of the house, and sure enough, he was doing his business. "Good boy!" I cried. "Such a good, good boy!" He met my eyes, and I was so joyful and proud in that moment. Finally he had overcome his hatred of the rain and learned to go potty outside by himself.
So when the dogs whined and woke me up to go out this morning, I was joyful. This moment was the fruit of patience, frustration, persistence, and love. It was success after despair. As I shivered and watched my dogs peeing in the rain, I was overwhelmed with pride. When they were done and came back inside, I wiped their muddy feet, gave them treats, and put them back to bed.
"Good dogs! Good, good dogs."
