There are certain life situations where you get oodles of advice. Yes, I said oodles…trust me, the situation calls for it.
My family brought a puppy home on Saturday.
There. Let the advice begin.
Crate training, food type, training methods, you name it. Everyone has advice. To be honest, I think I’ve had more advice given with the pup’s arrival than with my baby’s homecoming a year ago.
The latest has to do with crate training and housebreaking. Salinger (oh, don’t even get me started on the whole ‘what you should name your dog’ advice) has had a couple accidents in his crate in the middle of the night. I say it’s because I didn’t react in time, Ben says because the crate is too big and I need a divider. He’s a big puppy and I don’t want him to be cramped. AND it’s not like he pooped on one side and then went back to sleep on the other. He seemed to have lost control of his tiny tummy when I was too slow hauling my arse out of bed.
So go ahead. Yell at me. Or give me your two cents. I’ll be rich by the time this dog is fully house trained