I look at the clock, and see it is ten pm. I get up, put him out, then back to bed. Again at 1:30. And 3. And 4:30. He is re-training me well. The alternative is to leave him in another room, where inevitably the whine will turn into a bark and disturb more than just me. Better to keep the devil closer, I guess.
Back to the Nursing Home idea. It would need the following features:
- Waterproof everything. For dogs like Toby that have a mission in life to pee on every vertical or textural surface ever invented. Ever. This includes beds, pillows, blankets, books, and shoes.
- Unlimited ammo -- water. Heck, give them vodka.
- Soundproof walls. Go for it, pups. Howl away.
- Constant stream of cookies. Offer the residents anything they want to eat, whenever they want it. Early death isn’t so bad for some of these dogs.
- Revolving door to the outside world. That way they can come and go as they please without forcing humans up at 3am.
- For amusement, half eaten dishes of cat and dog food can be placed within the unit for foraging. Add a litter box too if you have the kind of dog I have. Won’t take long for it to be found and consumed. Less waste.
- A play group where the dogs could complain about how their families don't visit like they should.
- A nicely framed photo of the family. In my case, any photo of food would be more appreciated.
- Add a few hardy free roaming cats to the facility to promote loud chase scenes at 3:30am, too. Unexpected excitement is good for the heart.
For a fee, fellow old-and-unmanageable-dog sufferers could be freed from having to care from a disrespectful, aging pet. I could have used a place like this when he was three, but stupid me thought things would get better and continued with training classes. Ha ha ha! As I write this, Toby gets up off a newly washed dog bed, walks over to another, also fresh out of the dryer, and pees on it. Never mind he's been out twice already. He wags his tail and looks at me for recognition of his accomplishment. More laundry. Oh, Toby. Oh, Toby.
So now I stumble through the dark hours of the morning, from crate to back door. Then back to bed where Tobes begins his screechy whine again. And I begin literally begging him to be quiet. Then remember he doesn’t hear so well, so try to gesture to him to be quiet. Pleading with him. Hoping he will fall asleep so that I can, too. Then, the alarm goes off, and the day begins. Cheers.