I had a puppy once. When I was 10. I will get into all of the things I did wrong with that one in another post, but suffice it to say I knew when I got my next puppy, things would be different.
13 years and a B.S. in Animal Sciences later, that day finally came.
I am a research junkie and before I make any decisions I typically browse the web to see what other people have done, how it worked out, and what I could do for best success. Having my puppy was no different, especially since I was also working a full-time job which involved me being away from home for about 12 hours a day.
My research uncovered that basically, if you get a puppy with a full-time job, you are Satan and should be shot. People were all super passionate that if you had a full-time job, you should not get a dog, let alone a puppy.
I read all the arguments: potty training nightmares, hiring help, separation anxiety, general destruction and mayhem, the puppy’s well-being, etc. I found almost no success stories without people shelling out huge sums for daycare and drop in walkers or taking weeks off from work. Anyone who asked about getting a puppy with a job on forums was quickly roasted to a little charcoal crisp. I realized that I probably shouldn’t get one at this point in my life.
Nevertheless, when I happened to stumble across a sweet little Golden Retriever/Labrador pup, the logic part of my brain went out the window.
Forget “probably shouldn’t”, we NEED him.
I was determined to prove everyone wrong and even more determined to prove to myself that I could raise a well-mannered wonderful dog. I re-read (for at least the fifth time) Dr. Ian Dunbar’s book Before and After Getting Your Puppy. I got a good sturdy crate (or three, is that excessive?) and a plethora of Kong and stuffable toys. I scheduled four days off from work. Then we brought little Jackson home.
After work on a Thursday, I drove down to pick up Jackson as an 8-week-old pup. I had put a deposit down when he was about 3 weeks old, and we had already met him when he was 5 weeks. He was the cutest damn thing.
But cute or not, we couldn’t cuddle him all day. We knew that in a couple short days he would be left home alone for over 8 hours, and we had to start preparing him for that, stat.
Determined to crate-train, and on a tight timeline, we did not have the luxury of clicker training him to the crate or easing him into it. He had to know this was how it was and that the crate was the best place in the world!
As soon as I got home with him on the first day, he got a potty break, 30 minutes of play, then he went into the crate with a food-stuffed Kong. He did not go in quite willingly, but didn’t put up much of a fight once he saw the food in there. He didn’t cry much, but any noises he did make fell on deaf ears.
After about an hour we went out for potty and lo-and-behold he went! He got lots of praise and treats immediately for eliminating. That was our routine for the rest of the night, 30 minutes supervised (like a hawk supervises) play then in the crate for an hour. By bed time we had one last potty then we brought the crate to our bedroom next to the bed and he went in for the night. He cried for about 15 minutes, then went into a dead sleep.
At about 12:00 I heard some whining and got my slippers on for a potty trip. Without a word, I took him out of his crate, carried him to the door, grabbed some treats and went straight outside. “Jackson, go potty” was met with elimination. He received treats and quiet praise, then was carried back to the crate. He cried again for about 10 minutes, then heavenly silence. Again at about 4:00, at his soft whimpering, we repeated.
The next day, we repeated the schedule of 30 minutes of play, 1 hour of crate time with and without food in the crate. When there wasn’t food, he cried for a while before falling asleep. If he was asleep after an hour went by, I woke him up to take him to potty. He went nearly every time. If there was no potty, it was back to the crate for 10 minutes before another try.
At night, we repeated the same thing as before with roughly the same wake up times. He didn’t cry when we put him in his crate anymore. I think the reason for his quick transition was the fact that he was the last puppy to go home, so when we finally got him he had already been sleeping alone but now he got to sleep in a crate next to us so it was actually better.
The next day, Saturday, we started getting him used to his playpen, or what Dr. Dunbar calls his “long-term confinement area”. He quickly shredded the puppy pad and hated seeing us leave the room, a reaction he never had while in the crate, but he eventually settled down. We made an effort to consciously look away from him when he started making a fuss and would only take him out when he was quiet and sitting. In retrospect we probably should have played with him and fed him more in the pen to make it less scary, but he got it eventually.
He would stay in the play pen when we went out to do yard work or farm chores, but no matter what, we took him outside on the hour to potty. Then he got his treat and well-deserved play session.
We also interspersed a few crated time-outs for food and our own sanity.
That night we gave no more food or water after 8:00. We only got up once to potty.
The next day was more of the same, but the intervals were closer to 1.5 hours in his play pen. He received lots of stuffed toys before we left the room, which he did not mind in the least. When we sat down to eat dinner, he was making a fuss, trying to climb over the wire playpen. Then we heard shrieking that made my husband and I both jump up, he had gotten his paw stuck in the gate of the pen and could not free it.
Our plan had been to keep him in the playpen the whole day we were at work, however if he could injure himself in it or get stuck, it was a plan that had to be rethought.
We decided to keep the playpen for day-use when we were home, and use our bathroom for a puppy room when we were gone at work. We knew in either case, he was not going to be able to hold his bladder until we got home, we knew there would be a mess. We also hated our bathroom and knew a remodel was not so far down the road.
The first day back at work was terrifying for me. I stuffed all of the Kongs we had and picked up everything in the bathroom that he could get into, including the shower curtain! Then we shut him in and left.
While we were gone, I constantly wondered what he was doing and if he was okay. When we finally got home, the house was dead silent. I was certain he was dead.
He wasn’t. Opening the bathroom door I found a happy wiggly puppy thrilled that we were back. There was somewhat of a mess in the bathroom, but he kept it all to one corner. We went out immediately to go potty and then played the night away.
And that was our routine for months. On weekends when we were home, we didn’t play with him non-stop. He had a lot of time in his crate and in his playpen. We had to have him know that we weren’t everything in the world, that he’d be perfectly okay while we were gone, and that we’d always come back.
As far as chewing went, Kongs and nylabones were our go-tos as they were the least destructible. I would measure out his kibble each day and stuff about 3/4 of it into his Kongs for while we were gone. He would get the last bit as training treats or in Kongs when we got home.
As he was able to start mastering a tightly stuffed kibble Kong, we added in wet food, trickier treats, and started freezing them. I don’t know exactly how long it took him to get through all of the Kongs we gave him each day, but he seemed content. He started with a medium puppy Kong, a large puppy Kong, and a Kong activity ball. I would also give him a piece of carrot or apple to chew on and a frozen cube of yogurt, oatmeal, or wet food. After about a month I added in a Kong tire and a dense hollow rubber bone, and then around five months he got two more large adult Kongs. He did chew a little on the trim in the bathroom, but considering how much time he had every day to be destructive, I’m okay with it!
Jackson was officially potty-trained at about 3 months old. He had a total of maybe four accidents in the house (all our fault for not following the crating schedule). The magic happened suddenly when we had friends over one day and one of them said, “hey, your dog’s scratching at the door, does he need to go out?” Jackson must have thought he was king of the world with all of the praise he got for telling us he had to go outside. And to us, he was. It was like a switch was flipped. He never had another accident.
Now at nearly 6 months old, Jackson seems quite comfortable with his schedule and has excellent house manners. In the morning he knows that the bathroom is a wonderful place full of yummy stuffed toys and he runs straight there after his morning potty break.
I know we still have a long way to go, but I think we’re on the right track and things are going great!