She is so small she fits under everything, and is impossible to catch. With her head cocked to the one side, her cuteness betrays a quick and devious mind. Seriously friggin’ devious, I have not blawdy encountered one as devious.
At 4 months, she is clever and curious, and so not to be trusted, not.at.all.
Apparently, besides being an escape artist, my wee Chi is a thief. Had been grocery shopping and came upon some Lemon Tarts on sale, 50% off, num num. So, came home and made myself some tea, and had set a tart on a piece of tissue on the coffee table, forgot to grab me cuppa, and by the time I had turned around (3, maybe 4 seconds) I spied with my side eye my Pika, daemon ninja weasel, running off with my tart – which BTW was as big as her f’n head.
So I grabbed the antique yardstick off the wall and began swiping it under the furniture, chasing her out. In the end, she consumed half, I rescued the other and disposed of it.
Like that stupid crate, I mean, she had that thing done and dusty how quickly? I say I am determined, but, already I’ve caved, and she slept out free of the crate last night, and the night before, and the sky didn’t fall, the settee is still in one piece, but, you see what I mean? Manipulative little vixen.
So, after the tart incident I spent the next 24 hours hunting gooey Lemon Tart poo, after stepping in the first of a series in my bare feet.
Now, to clarify, in the classic definition of “house breaking” a dog, she fails miserably. Potty training though, to be honest, she has learned to go pee, occasionally poo, on the pee pad. I mean, she is a work in progress, and I get it, it is cold, and Chi’s do not like anything below freezing and her wee paws are prone to frostbite. So, we take our wins where we can get them.
I think the soft gushy poo was pay back though, for tormenting her with the yard stick while she was trying to polish off my Lemon Tart she stole.
One definite win, in terms of words she knows, is the word NO – SUCCESS.
Ok, well, a partial success.
While I’m fairly certain she understands the word, the follow thru? Not so consistent.
Now in the biting and the strength of her nips, saying NO and OW work beautifully. She stops, she backs off, she gives me a lick, good Pika, I praise her.
However, it tis when I’m dragging her wee body through the apartment attached to my jammie leg that I ponder how best to get her to see it my way. When I attempt to wrench my pant leg from her fierce little jaws, I’m presented with the demon attack dog who belies the cute little Pika she was not 5 minutes before. No, by the by, does not work in this particular scenario.
I admit I’ve taken to just rolling up my damn pants and be done with it, as getting around the apartment becomes a battle of wills, a Quasimodo style lurch with this dark mocha daemon ninja weasel dragging along the floor attached to me.
I’ve tried just ignoring her, hoping maybe its just attention generated, eh? Yeah, no. I don’t think she gives a shite, she just gets some kind of sick pleasure, and the ferocious response I get when I actually do tell her NO? AH! When I actually try to grasp my pant leg back from her jaw? I don’t particularly care for that doggo.
Yes, we have some work to do.
Keeping this clever little demon doggo occupied, keeping the ferocious doggo at bay, is going to be a challenge this long, dark, cold winter ahead.
Em, maybe some Binaural Beats? Gets some MHz in some calming tone, perhaps? Chill out this Chi?
Now, I will say this for her, I have quite a tall bed, a high mattress, and that dog ain’t called ‘ninja’, eh, for nothing.
Holy cow batman, can she fly. My sis did say she looked like a fruit bat.
I mean, 3 feet, maybe 4 feet? Right straight up, as I’m lying in bed watching a show and her little head pops up, and again, and again, and I just ignore her cause she just runs around like a moron and attacks my face with licks and crawls all over me, and races around the bed, and digs like a maniac into the sheets, and rolls over, and gets up, and races around the bed 3 more times, comes over and attacks me for good measure, licks me everywhere she can as she’s crawling over my head, attacking my hair, scampers off when I shoo her away. So I sit up and grab the wiggle worm and plop her back down on the floor, and … BING… BING… BING, pops her little head over the bed, flying straight up in the air with the greatest of ease.
Kinda like the Flying Nun, but a Chihuahua. BING… BING… BING.