Baxter

We'd been told to practice short absences. Start small. Forty minutes, door closed, crate nearby, everything calm.

Baxter is six months old and has never once in his life respected a plan that wasn't his own.

I popped to the shop when my partner was at work. We had a training book, like an actual paperback called something like Happy Puppy, Happy Home. It was laying on the coffee table because we'd been reading the chapter on separation anxiety that morning. Pretty ironic, now that I'm looking back on it.

When I got back, Baxter didn't come over and appeared to be in his bed. That should have been my first clue. Baxter never just chooses the bed unless something has gone wrong.

Well.. I didn't have to go too far. The hallway had paper. Not just a little bit. Strips of it, like he'd been preparing for a parade.

I followed the trail into the living room and there he was, chin on his paws, eyes doing that thing. You know the thing. Total innocence. Complete denial. As if he hadn't just redecorated the flat.

The book was on the floor. Well, what was left of it. The cover was fine. The first chapter on toilet training was fine. Everything from "building confidence when alone" onwards had been eaten, ripped, or distributed around the house for safe keeping.

He'd also moved three tins of soup from the cupboard to his bed. Don't ask me how. He's not that tall. Labs are resourceful when motivated.

I stood there holding the one remaining page (probably something about not making a fuss when you return) and Baxter wagged his tail like I'd come home to praise him.

My partner laughed when I sent the photo. His mother... not so much, it was her book.

We crate trained properly after that. Baxter took to it fine, because of course he did. He only kicks off when he thinks the rules are suggestions.

Six months on, he's mostly stopped eating furniture. Still steals socks. Still looks offended when you catch him. Wouldn't change him, honestly. Well. Maybe the soup tins.