Daisy vs. The Steps

This dog is going to be the death of me.

Daisy has a problem getting up on the bed. Yes, she turned 11 in April, and that contributes to a very small part of the problem. It's not the real problem, though.

The real problem is my dad. Even though she's a dog, and he's an educated human being, this little Shih Tzu (not a lot of zu) has him WRAPPED around her little paws.

Exhibit A:
A conversation we had a little while back after he took her outside at my apartment. He was concerned because she stopped about halfway back up the stairs and looked at him like she couldn't take any more of the stairs or go any further. He carried her the rest of the way.

Please. I assured him she was playing him.

Exhibit B (the REAL problem):
She never ever has to even attempt to jump on the bed at his house. He always lovingly places her there and includes lots of snuggles and kisses. The little Shih T(zu) doesn't have to even lift a paw there.

At my house? notsomuch. She's perfectly capable of getting onto my (raised) bed, but she does take some encouragement (GET UP ON THE BED, #$%%$!) She manages to make it without my assistance. Every.single.time. She does, however, require me to prove to her that there is absolutely nothing in her way on the top of the bed that she may run into, and then, fall off. It's super fun at 3:19 in the morning.

The last time I took her to the vet, she did a complete once-over and noticed that Daisy's hips were showing some signs of aging, but not bad. Sigh.

So, I went yesterday and bought her this contraption:

Pet stairs.

While I was hoping this would help her with her legs, I was also interested in it giving me more freedom to continue to sleep in the middle of the night when she decided she was done napping under the bed and was ready to move to the top of the bed for the real sleep.

I got her the stairs (at 20% off), and brought them home and put them together. By put them together, I mean snapped the locks into place. It was super easy, and I was feeling very good about this.

Daisy, however, was wondering what in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks I had brought into our house.

Like a good and encouraging pet owner, I went and sat on my bed and folded some laundry, waiting for her to come and investigate. I put it right next to where I was, and waited.

She looked at it, and then went around to the other side of the bed to scratch at it and bark for me to move the laundry so she could have a clean shot. Good Lord.

She then came back around to my side and looked at it.
And looked at me.
And looked at the steps.
And looked at me again.

This is where I knew I may need to intervene. So, I put her halfway up the steps, and stepped back.

She jumped off the side of the steps.

This is when I knew we were going to have a problem.



Eventually, she just climbed underneath it and took a nap.

I tried again later in the evening.

I put the steps on the side of the bed that they would normally up against, and took her over to them. I picked her up and tried to put her on the middle step.

When I went to put her on the steps, her legs splayed out like I was trying to put her in a bath. I put her down and she immediately jumped over the side and ran out of the room.

And at 3:19 this morning?
Insisting to be let up on the bed.

This dog is going to be the death of me.