Pooping to Make a Statement?

[Toto-lee Cairn]

Looking through the categories for 'New Post,'  I had to *chuckle* at Best of Breed.

Toto did something yesterday that has me confounded.  Note: he is a bit of a 'velcro dog' with me.  He is sitting here beside me as I type.  He follows me foot-for-foot around the house, and just lately, insists I am the one to go out with him at potty-time.  George has to put him on-leash to get him to go.

So, I leave the house just before lunch for a meeting, tell everyone 'goodbye,' lean down to scratch Toto behind the ears, say "Be a good boy.  Mama'll be back in awhile."  He obviously wants to go with me, in spite of this usual routine, where I can then step onto the steps in the garage and pull the door to; instead, he zips past my legs, positions himself at the foot of the steps, and proceeds to ignore any command to go back into the house.  A Cairn, ignore something?  What a surprise.  George has to come, intervene.  Note:  Dad's command is 'law' around here.  Just like a child, Toto pushes the limit with Mom.  

I come back to learn Toto really, really showed his butt, and put it to good use: a few little turds outside the daughter's bedroom door, upstairs; a few in the kitchen, and finally, a few in the entrance hall.  Not little pile(s) but a poop here, there, and just a little further along a path.

On the flip side:  I did *chuckle,* getting a call from the daughter (a grown woman, you understand) that goes:  "MOM!  Do you know what YOUR DOG did?  (like I'm telepathic).  She describes the apparent s-h-*-t fit.  I'm thinking, 'OMG, diarrhea?  My poor little guy is sick?  I'll be taking him to the vet?"  She confirms, 'no,' she had been able to 'CLEAN UP' after MY DOG.

What the devil?

I've been led to believe we 'project' onto our animals, interpreting emotions, responses, *blah blah blah.*  What, then, I am 'projecting' is Toto was really, not pissed-off, but showing his great disapproval of my having left the house without him (and being so 'cavalier' about doing so?  That's it, I insulted him -- 'Cavalier' like the Spaniel.)

Do your Cairns do something like this?  How am I supposed to deal with it?  Obviously, at the point I get home, it's a bit late to try to address it with Toto.  Or, is there some way I am supposed to?  And, last piece of the puzzle:  was this directed at Mama?  Or intended to irritate Hilary (the daughter) with whom he has a love/hate relationship at best?  Was it directed to Dad who made him come back in from the garage?  Or, all three of us?

Insights?

Instead of finding Toto a 'good home,' I think I need to find one for myself.  Just word the ad 'right.'  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[bradl]

I surely don't know.

Maybe, sometimes, if they gotta go, they gotta go and the traveling poop show might just be a series of "oh no, this isn't right, gotta get out of here" and "oops, I did it again, gotta move along."  

I wish we could ask them and get a straight answer!

[Eliz222]

I have no idea either! At this point, there isn't anything you can do. If it keeps happening when you leave the house, you may want to crate the little rascal while you are gone.

[Dogcoat lady]

I would be inclined to put on an angry face at each little pile, if it happens again.  Especially, if he’s a Velcro guy.  Not a word, just a really bad face.  Third time….crate.

[Toto-lee Cairn]

4 hours ago, Eliz222 said:

I have no idea either! At this point, there isn't anything you can do. If it keeps happening when you leave the house, you may want to crate the little rascal while you are gone.

Neither Boys have free rein of the house if we are all away. 

The little stinker was here with my daughter, visiting upstairs with her.  She stepped onto one poop just outside her door, tap-danced to avoid the other.  Upon going downstairs, she discovers the rest.

Maybe the surprise in the kitchen was intended for me?  I had gone out the door there and into the garage to leave.  Upstairs was maybe for Hilary's benefit -- like I said those two have a love/hate relationship.  I guess perhaps George's 'presents' were left in the entrance hall.

 

[Toto-lee Cairn]

4 hours ago, Dogcoat lady said:

I would be inclined to put on an angry face at each little pile, if it happens again.  Especially, if he’s a Velcro guy.  Not a word, just a really bad face.  Third time….crate.

I like the angry face suggestion.  It might work if indeed I am the one who comes across the surprises.

He hasn't done things like this since he was about 6 months old, unless someone just overlooked his cue to go out.  I have the best success with sticking to schedules for meal times, going out to potty, going out to play.  Toto does know he isn't supposed to potty in the house, which is why I think he was sending us the message that he had wanted to go bye-bye with Mama.

Research claims we project onto our animals -- that they aren't capable of complex emotions like guilt, and the like, but I really do beg to differ.

[Hillscreek]

Yep Unless he really had to go it seems like he was leaving you a message.

To avoid any nasty surpsises- eg torn up sofa, or  ruined kitchen drawers (documented elsewhere on this sit) etc etc Mine always were crated when I was out of the house. Angus age 11 has recently been trusted out for short times! 

[Toto-lee Cairn]

7 hours ago, Hillscreek said:

.  .  .   seems like he was leaving you a message.

 

Poop pun?

 

Rupert, we have always trusted.  Toto, this 'Toto,' never.

 Interestingly enough, there are all sorts of opinions out there -- even in the PhD world -- re: what dogs can and can't do.  I do think they send us messages like the little *poops* here and there, and there, again.  Directed to me, who left the house, to Dad, who made him obey the command to get back in the house, and to Hilary, who . . . well, let's not even go there.

 

[Toto-lee Cairn]

Update:  Let's consider peeing in the house now.

But, it's not peeing on the floors, or marking furniture.  (Thankfully, Toto has never seen the point of peeing on the furniture.  I might have to *strangle* him -- actually, I wouldn't but you can bet the day on the calendar would get marked as the day Toto went on my you-know-what List.) 

Our afternoons, following a flurry of any number of activities during the a.m., consist of a light lunch and akin to a kindergarten classroom, quiet time for the house, possibly nap time for me.  Next to a.m. coffee on the porch in the early hours of the day,  afternoon Quiet Time is my next favorite time of the day.  

Let me set the scene:  in the bedroom, I am on the bed, legs propped on pillows (helps with swelling), Toto is usually at the foot of the bed, several feet off the floor  (one of those ridiculously high four-poster Federal period reproductions).  Toto enjoys looking out the picture window on-duty for 'trespassers' like crows, squirrels, deer, *whatever.*  He may remain on the bed as long as he is quiet, and to help achieve that end, I provide a chew bone or favorite toy.  Occasionally, Toto will nap.

Toto mixed-it-up the other day, climbing onto George's lap.  George dozes off in the chair, but wakes with a start when Toto,  pees on his leg.   He gets scolded, sent to his room (the laundry room, separated from the house, with a gate, for 'Time-Out.'

Ever the researchers that we are, George asks the computer, 'what's-up-with-that?'  We ruled out bladder infection, kidney stones, angst, determining we can assess those issues, on-going.  The All-Knowing, All-Powerful Computer -- think::Wizard of Oz -- proffers that a dog may pee on its owner, as a sign of submission.

Hmm . . . after 4 1/2 years in the pack, Toto finally accepts George as 'alpha.'  Can't decide if Toto's just a little slow on-the-uptake, or true to the Cairn, just stubborn as the very devil.  Conducting a poll, here.  I vote, 'stubborn.'

Interesting note:  since the incident, we are seeing a very different little Toto.  I'm scared, thinking of the 'Chucky' series.