True confession: we do love our friend Sarah's dog Beckett, who happens to be 1-year-old today. She is also our dog walker, and so Lucy and Beckett are fast friends as well. He started spending time at our house back when he was only a 10 week old 2 pound bundle of fluff with icy blue eyes, and he would be still be welcome here anytime, too, if it weren't for his unpleasant habit of marking things that smell a little less or a little too whatever to his liking. The shag rug in our living room is an inviting indoor lawn to him, and it is more than aggravating to watch him every second only to have him piss on something the minute your attention wanders.
But today is his birthday, and Sarah is working all weekend at the dive shop where she is an instructor, so it seemed a little harsh to leave him home alone. After a long walk on the National Mall, we brought him back here. "Maybe he's outgrown it?" I suggested hopefully, but 30 seconds later he was peeing all over a basket of tennis balls that many, many dogs had drooled on.
As I cleaned up the mess, Heidi researched our dilemma. "They say to soak a bandana in his urine and then put it around his neck," she reported. "That way, everything will already smell like him to him." I clapped my hands and laughed, delighted by the elegance of the solution, and fished the paper towel I had just used to clean the basket out of the trash. After wrapping it around his collar, we sat back to watch. Was it only our imagination that he relaxed and stopped frantically sniffing? In moments he was engaging Lucy in play, and the need to make this place smell like his place seemed to vanish.
A little while later we went out to run errands, and at the top of the list was a birthday gift for the Becketty Boy. "How about this bandana?" I asked Heidi.
But today is his birthday, and Sarah is working all weekend at the dive shop where she is an instructor, so it seemed a little harsh to leave him home alone. After a long walk on the National Mall, we brought him back here. "Maybe he's outgrown it?" I suggested hopefully, but 30 seconds later he was peeing all over a basket of tennis balls that many, many dogs had drooled on.
As I cleaned up the mess, Heidi researched our dilemma. "They say to soak a bandana in his urine and then put it around his neck," she reported. "That way, everything will already smell like him to him." I clapped my hands and laughed, delighted by the elegance of the solution, and fished the paper towel I had just used to clean the basket out of the trash. After wrapping it around his collar, we sat back to watch. Was it only our imagination that he relaxed and stopped frantically sniffing? In moments he was engaging Lucy in play, and the need to make this place smell like his place seemed to vanish.
A little while later we went out to run errands, and at the top of the list was a birthday gift for the Becketty Boy. "How about this bandana?" I asked Heidi.
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