Vote Wiktor!!!

I have a sweet four year old nephew in Poland who's trying to win some nifty new bedroom furniture, so he drew a picture and entered it into a contest, the arrows are to show where the slide is to reach Wiktor's bed.

Wanna help? If so vote for Wiktor's picture here. You can vote once a day until April 30th. Just click on the button 'Glosuj' ('Vote') and then fill out some anti-bot form. If you see "Dziękujemy za oddanie głosu." ("Thank you for voting") you've done it.

noNeed has sent a suggestion for dealing with Layla called, The Art of Raising a Puppy by The Monks of New Skete which sounds kind of hippie organic new age to me, based on the author(s) name. I'd have preferred The Art of Raising a Puppy by The Marquis de Sade or Force Recon, you know proven methods that work, but at this point in time we'll try anything. Plus we need some sort of unified front against what Ally McBeal accurately described (based off of one picture) as, Cutie – but the look in her eye says “devil dawg” all the way ;). So we need a manifesto, a bible, something to blame! when things go horribly wrong and I guess it's gonna be some dude in weird hat standing if front of an Eastern Orthodox church. At least I think that's what it is with those onion things on the roof.

Not wanting to be some trusting rube (not like last time!) I did some internet searching and was astounded to find out The Monks of New Skete were not a rock band or some PETA front but real live monks! So that dude wears that hat not to pick up chicks or pretend to be some ninja surgeon, but because his order tells him to or something. Maybe he likes it. ::shrug:: I confess I'm not up to speed on Eastern Orthodox Massachusetts Dog Rearing Monks. However they must know what they're doing since they've been raising dogs for thirty-five years. Anyway "I'm in" even though I haven't read the book. It's written by monks and although Layla is a devout Catholic and these are Eastern Orthodox dudes expert in German Shepherds what could go wrong?

My wife managed to get home at lunch yesterday and by that time Layla had broken free of her level two containment and pooped in my son's room. What she has against my son I have no idea, I don't think this is some puppy term of endearment but who knows? Maybe my son should return the favor... nah, it's probably illegal in this state. Both dog and son seem to like each other fine even if they can't quite get a read on the other one.

There was a whole lot of backsliding yesterday evening on Layla's part. I'm not certain what's going through her peanut brain but she's been merrily testing limits. It was a struggle to get her to 'come' and was capped off with her howling like a banshee when she was in her cage last night for bedtime.

This was when the monks came into play. My wife (God bless her) had tried the sitting next to Layla until she fell asleep thing to no avail so we moved on to the let the baby cry in her crib thing which only seemed to wind Layla up to full fledged howls, "I SAID I'M WHINING HERE!!!! HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

My mood was dark already. I don't need this crap. I tell my wife, "I'm gonna try the monk thing."

She's tense in the bed, a tight knot of despair and replies, "It's not gonna work."

I'm snitty at this point, "And what you've been trying has?"

"You're only going to get more frustrated."

That's what single malt is for...

The monks are big believers of the crate/cage telling their acolytes that dogs, being pack animals like having a 'den' and that the cage can/should become their den.

Layla has been treating hers as such. When she goes into it we leave her alone and it appears she's making that association. She's just not real keen on when we close the door behind her. Which currently is only at bedtime.

So my son read to me the chapter on housebreaking the little poop factory. And there's all sorts of stuff we have yet to implement like feeding schedules but we're actually a bit ahead with the cage. I was a tad disappointed in their pantywaist ways when it came to discipline, no rack, no branding, nothing medieval at all I'm afraid. However they did mention that when the dog gets whiny in its cage it's perfectly acceptable to go over to the cage and whack it, creating a large noise startling the puppy into silence.

That was exactly what I intended to try as I lumbered toward the incessant yowler like the Angel of Death.

I myopically approach the cage, blurrily making out the demonic caterwauler whining within. There was to be no negotiation at this point. Bill doesn't deal with baying terrorists.

WHACK! I smack the cage.

Confused silence followed by some faint wailing feelers as I stormed back towards the bedroom that increased in volume and urgency the further I got away.

"I didn't mean for you to smack the cage, I meant for you to let me out. HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Stomp stomp stomp I head back towards the cage.

WHACK.

Confused silence followed by, "I DIDN'T MEAN FOR YOU TO SMACK THE CAGE YOU CLUELESS NIMROOOOODDDDDDDDDD. HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

I'm enraged, I mean look, who's the DOG here? HUH?! I can feel that I'm on the edge of losing it and driving the animal straight to the pound and neither one of us want that. We're suppose to be pals.

Filled with frustration I WHACK the cage hard enough to hurt my hand, bend down to the black, amorphous shape in the cage and snarl, "NO!"

Crickets.

Ah, well of course. As I stumble back to bed, all wound up and angry, I realize that to Layla having some sleep deprived loon waddle up and smack her cage before stumbling off might be a tad confusing. The command was the key. I lay next to my wife tense and upset, reading to calm down. I don't like whacking cages and yelling at our puppy anymore than you would.

I pray it works again tonight if needed.

This morning all was forgiven with Layla and me. She greeted me as I freed her from her cage with excessive wagging and licks. A truly fine way to start one's day. She deemed it too cold and 'yucky' to take care of her business at that time of the morning so I erected the stage two containment facility and sat with her in the kitchen. She curled up on her bed in her cage and dozed off. I read a book. Whenever I got up to get a cup of coffee or something she would would immediately get out of her cage and come over to the edge of the second set of barriers and suspiciously ask with a head tilt and body language, "Whatcha doin? You're not taking off are you?"

She'd return to her cage when I climbed back over the stage two barriers and resumed reading. She's obviously a people dog and wants us in eyesight.

I could only do some walking and some sit ups this morning since I got to the gym at 6:30am. This compressed schedule is going to be the new 'norm' for me and I'm going to have to figure that out (evening workouts?). I hope to resume bike riding at some point.