Heh - yeah, let’s avoid drowning him in a puddle of urine for 25 minutes every night for a week…
First thing I’d do is get him checked out at the vet to find out if there’s something physiologically wrong. Usually when a trained animal has accidents and didn’t used to before (i.e. went from trained to seemingly untrained), there is an underlying problem. More often than not, it’s a bladder infection and is easy to treat. Some older dogs develop some bladder issues as they get older, so that’s also worth looking into. If nothing else has changed in his life that would make him suddenly prone to, say, separation anxiety or somesuch thing (lots of stress), I’d look into finding out if there’s a physiological reason for the behavior.
If not, then there are some fixes you can try… but I’d eliminate the possibility of a UTI/bladder infection first
My favorite training methods for my strong-willed dog have come from The Monks of New Skete. These monks make their money by breeding, raising, and training German Shepards. They have the kind of knowledge that only comes from generations of celibate men living, working, and sleeping with dogs (but not like that- eew).
They also suggested a method that seemed dangerous at first, but has been very effective:
My second dog (the Godless heathen) had a habit of jumping up onto counters and tables to scout around (her favorite treasure was Kleenex, which she used to recarpet our floors). On the advice of the Monks of New Skete book, I showed her a mousetrap (one of the little flimsy ones), snapped it a few times near her face, and then set it on the table, armed. She set if off by bumping it with her paw, and has never even looked at the top of a counter or table.
She’s big enough that it couldn’t have broken anything (maybe a bruised nose is all), but when I tell people about it, they all look like they want to turn me in. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t rub my hands together and cackle when I mention Maggie’s potential pain
This is the most frightening, disgusting thing I have read in a very long time. I am actually sick to my stomach. I don’t care if the methods work or not, this is nothing more than an animal cruelty “how to” guide.
I threaten my Minx with duct tape all the time (“scratch that couch one more time I’m taping your paws together” or “it’s 3am stop that meowing or I’m taping your mouth shut”) but I don’t really mean it. (which she knows, BTW, so she just keeps on with whatever she’s doing). I think I’m not going to be doing that anymore.
Oh dear. What if there has been a rather large change? My roommate has moved out (yeah!) and this seems to coencide with that - also, it’s only when I’m away. When I’m home Voltaire uses his pan in the regular and appropriate way.
Assuming it’s stress (he just had a checkup and everything was A-OK), what should I do? I’ve been trying to be really nice to him and give him lots of attention and extra cuddles and walks. Should I just wait for this to blow over? (So far I’ve been ignoring it - not yelling or punishing him.)
I’m no vet or dog trainer so take it for what it’s worth (which other than having trained a frisky Shepherd-Husky mix and a really stubborn Alpha female Rottie, isn’t much), but my layman’s opinion is, it sounds like a classic case of stress-related separation anxiety. As to what to do about it, I’d talk to your vet, while keeping up what you’re currently doing.
You might consider a crate for when you’re not home. The biggest drawback to that solution in an apartment is, if it’s a dog not used to being in a crate, they can kick up quite a fuss till they get used to it, which isn’t generally conducive to an apartment situation.
I’d suggest crating, too. In my experience, dogs adjust to crates much more easily if you get them used to being in the crate when you’re there with them, and when the crate is treated as a positive thing. With Dolly, we spent most of an evening periodically tossing treats in, shutting the door behind her, praising her extravagantly for being in the crate, and petting and treating her through the bars. Every once in a while she’d fuss about being crated when there was something interesting going on, but for the most part she thought the crate was the greatest thing since cat shit.
I realized later that I misread one of the training, I mean torture, methods.
You’re supposed to hang the dog by its neck until it’s near death; the legs you’re supposed to beat for at least 20 minutes with a wooden stick inside a rubber hose. Silly me. I will never make a decent grade on the Torturer’s Final Exam. How ever will I get into the Sadist Master’s Program?
I always thought crate training was mean until my Mom did it with her dog. I was always worried about the poor puppy being in the “cage” and thought he hated it. When he got old enough (and trustworthy enough) to not need it anymore they took it down. The dog carried on so badly they had to put it back up. He noses open the door, goes in, and then paws it closed - it’s like his own little bedroom.
