I have a steadfast rule: If you don’t poop outside or wipe your own butt, you can’t stay at my house. Thanks to Cheetos, our new four-legged child has not had a poop accident inside.
We have been on the waiting list for a Corgi for nearly a year when I unexpectedly learned one of my mom’s horse show friends had a litter ready to go. And it was after finals. And it was during the Christmas holidays. And we were both off work for four weeks. The timing was perfect.
We had already decided that because we were getting one of the Queen’s dogs, he had to have a pompous British name. And because I’ll never have a son to name after my dad, the puppy would have to have Harrison somewhere in the pompousness.
On December 13, we and Sir Waldorf Harrison Maupin, barn name Harry, made the six hour drive home to New Orleans from DeBerry, Texas, in the pouring rain.
I forgot that having a puppy is like having a 2-year-old kid except we can put him in the kennel for a few hours without facing repercussion of child protective services.
We are completely smitten with Sir Harry and the Corgi breed. We are all too familiar with the sploot now, and his personality is starting to really come out. From hot laps around the coffee table to pulling his toys out of the toy box, we could not be having a more fun time watching him “grow up.”
Housebreaking is even going smoothly – the secret is a kibble-size piece of a Cheeto every time he “gets busy” outside. It’s worked like a charm, though I think he’s got us figured out as he’ll do the minimum and come to me and ask for his prize.
We certainly broke Harry in during the first few weeks. Over Christmas in Pensacola, Fla., we smuggled him in and out of our hotel room in my big purse and he didn’t make a peep. Eddie’s niece carried him all over the house and even tried tuck him into her baby doll’s bed.
During New Year’s, he met horses and Weimeraners at my parents’ house. He even spent the night with my sister and 2-year-old niece. In her toddler dialect, Harry sounded more like Airey in a British accent.
During our first vet visit, the vet techs were fawning all over Harry. I told the Eddie if he ever kicks me out, he’s got the ultimate chick magnet. I am counting down until his last set of shots so we can visit the local dog parks and play fetch at the levee letting our Corgi fully Corg.