On the QV every minute since Pup tumbled into the deep end of the pool, I realized that something had to be done to forestall a repeat of that adventure. Pup needs to be able to go outside without Human dithering over her every moment, and Human's nervous breakdown must be forestalled.
What to do that would be navigable for the human but nonnavigable for the canine? And preferably not TOO gawdawful hideous...
At the Depot, I found the usual wire garden fencelets, which kept the golden retriever pup out of the flowerbeds until he was big enough to step over them (this is an animal that could make a fortune in the excavation business, if only dogs could go into business). While Cassie and Pup can't step over these things, their frou-frou designs are generally wide enough that all pup has to do is wriggle through them. This, presumably, is how she got through to the far end of the pool. That disadvantage aside, the things are passing pricey.
Was about to give up when what should I spot, hidden behind a parked forklift, but a bunch of cheap (!!!!) painted wooden flowerbed fence thingies, each piece about 3 feet long. We need to span about 17 linear feet, and so a $4 price tag is a big improvement on the $12 to $17/length price tag in evidence elsewhere. They look to be just about high enough that neither Pup nor the much lazier Cassie can jump over them...but they're low enough that, in a sober moment, I can step over them without tripping myself and falling face-forward on my schnozz.
Flipped upside-down, these things balance on the concrete pretty well. Wired together with plastic zip-ties, they stand up handsomely. And tied to a chair, the patio upright, and a piece of anti-Charlie garden fencelet, they make for a pretty nice little puppy barrier. A-n-n-n-d...because they're made of wood, it'll be easy to staple on some garden fabric, by way of adding some climbing deterrence.
Hideous, but not horrific, eh?
Actually, it's a great deal less hideous than some of the other pet-control mechanisms I've invented. Most recently, the latest Battle of the Cat Wars comes to mind...
I think Pup must have been more traumatized by nearly drowning than was obvious at the outset. Before she fell in the drink, she was doing pretty well in the house-training department: two whole days had gone by without any cleanup.
But since the tumble-in, the stealth peeing has resumed with a vengeance. Can't count the number of puddles and dried salt-flats I've cleaned up over the past couple of days. Argh. She's doing better today: have only had to clean up two yellow lakes.
Part of the problem is that she was the surviving runt of a large litter (the other died). From what they say on the Web, I gather that a true runt comes into the world undernourished and underdeveloped -- almost like a preemie. And indeed, when we went to pick her up, she was noticeably smaller and much more fragile than her littermates, who were robust and bouncy.
This pup is bouncy, all right, and totally unfazed by the awe-inspiring majesty of the Queen of the Universe and Empress of All Time, Space, and Eternity. But until just the past few days, she's remained small and delicate.
She started to pick up steam as soon as I switched her over to Fromm's kibble, on the advice of the new holistic vet. Just in the few days since we started with that stuff, she's put on weight, her frame has grown noticeably, and her energy level has skyrocketed. She seems to be catching up quickly. Because she truly would rather eat Cassie's real food than dog kibble, I've been adding a little of Cassie's meat (right now she's on hamburger; in another few days it'll be pork, and after that, roast chicken). It's working: pup eats what's put down in front of her as long as it's spiked with a few bites of genuine meat.
And every day she looks better and better.