House Trained by Jackie Bouchard

Author:Jackie Bouchard [Bouchard, Jackie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503947122
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2015-10-19T22:00:00+00:00

Egad. A peek in the bathroom mirror shows crazy-lady hair, circles under my eyes, and a shiny face. At least I’m mostly cooled down from blasting the air-conditioning in the car on the way home. I peel off my T-shirt and shorts and take a quick birdbath at the sink, splashing some cold water on myself. Once my makeup is touched up, I grab the blouse I had on earlier, when I thought I was in the clear to get ready for work.

Oh no, not now. A pale violet blotch from this morning’s yogurt skirmish mars the front of the blouse. I don’t have time for this! Ruthie refused to eat the blueberry flavor, screaming “Ink! Ink!” until I gave in and traded her for the pink strawberry yogurt. God, dogs are so much easier. Marie eats whatever I put in front of her, even though it’s the same damn thing, day in and day out. And she loves it! Of course, Ruthie wants to eat the same damn thing day in and day out too: pink yogurt. So maybe that’s where we’re going wrong.

I yank my blouse off, making my hair crazier. I decide to go with it, fluffing it to the max, then spraying it like crazy. I hope they’ll think I’m going for that 1960s bombshell look, although the look calls out for a perfect cat-eye, which I don’t have time for because I plan to use the last ten minutes before we leave for a little something else I’ve got in mind. I grab my aquamarine blouse (and my liquid eyeliner—in case I hit a long red light). The tiny mother-of-pearl buttons fight me as I run down the hall.

“I’m back!” I run past where I left Ruthie in her high chair with a frozen Go-Gurt. (Pink, of course.) I figured she needed to cool down too, and a snack is in order since I don’t want a hungry baby screaming during our meeting. I dash to the kitchen, knowing Ruthie’s too messy to pick up out of her chair. I am not getting yogurt on my favorite top. I wet a kitchen towel and give her a thorough wipe down, then pull out one of the turkey hot dogs we use for Marie’s “high-value” training treats and dice a hunk into small pieces.

“Who wants to do something fun?” I address both Ruthie and Marie. The success with the one-word commands at the park gave me an idea, and we’ve got a few more minutes before we have to leave. Just enough time for a training session.

I carry Ruthie into the living room and have her stand, holding on to the edge of the sheet-covered sofa. Marie follows along, sniffing at the hot dog.

“Okay, doggies, sit!” I say, using the accompanying hand signal. Marie sits, since she knows the drill. Ruthie looks at Marie, then me. I take her hand and repeat, “Sit!” She plops down next to Marie, and I praise them both and dole out hot-dog bites.

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