Weaning Garfunkel

As I mentioned in an earlier post, we have slowly but surely been trying to get Garfunkel accustomed to spending more time by himself. This past week we decided to have my dad - who usually comes before I leave for work to watch the dog - come to the condo at 9. That gave Garfunkel a good 30 - 45 minutes of alone time every morning. Nothing too drastic but a good start. Of course, I am always the last one to leave in the morning (since Robert is the first one to get up... whatever) so I am stuck trying to distract the poor guy while simultaneously trying to sneak out the door. The Funk is not dumb - he is not distracted by anything in the morning if he thinks one of us is trying to leave. He knows our routine. He hates my lunch bag, my water bottle, my purse. And once I get my keys off the rack, look out! Howl city. Eventually, though, I have to leave so I run out the door with a mewing puppy screeching at the top of his lungs. I'm sure our neighbors love us right now.

Instead of keeping Garfunkel in his crate for the half-hour, we fenced off the kitchen for him. (He has a litter box of sod in there for any bathroom needs he may have during his alone time and it just seems so much less cruel than forcing him to hold it in the crate. We're soft.) We don't really have any way to anchor it to the wall, so it just sits against the kitchen wall on one side, pinned by the sod box, and it's tucked between the armchair and the fireplace on the other side. This is how we found the fence after the first day:


Garfunkel figured out how to push the fence out from behind the chair. He didn't even get out on the easy side! He went the hard way!!! My dad said The Funk was hanging off the back of the couch, crying and waiting for someone to get him when he arrived.


This was the fate of the fence after the second day. Garfunkel didn't mess around - he just busted the entire fence down. Once again, he was waiting on the couch - a place he knows he's not supposed to sit, by the way - for my dad when he arrived. Luckily, he wasn't crying that day. And so, after that, I didn't even bother trying to secure the gate; I just set it up to last long enough for me to get out the door. Garfunkel never pees or poops anywhere in the house and he doesn't even chew on anything he's not supposed to. As far as we can tell, he just breaks out and then sits either on the couch or right in front of the front door waiting for someone to rescue him. My dad has taken to entering the condo with a paper towel, since Garfunkel is always just SO excited (and, uh, relieved) to see someone. :o) We may try bumping the time out even further this week but we haven't reached a firm decision yet...


Garfunkel peeking out from one of his favorite hiding places - under our bed. That's the first place he heads when we open the door. And if a little of his tail peeks out from under the skirt, he'll pull it in quickly when he hears our feet. Dork.


I took a picture of this because it cracked. me. up. About a week ago, Robert brought home a new can of Kong goop. I filled Garfunkel's bone Kong, placed the cap on top and went on with my night. The next morning, this is what we found. The nozzle was defective and never shut off! All the goop exploded out and onto the counter!!!! What's really remarkable, though, is it never blew the cap off. Weird. I don't know why it tickled me so but it really did. I would laugh throughout the day whenever I thought about the crusted-over glob of goop on the counter.