Heartbreaking as it is, you're going to have to try and live with the howling for a few nights. Which will be worse than it was, because he's learned that if he howls, you'll let him out.
I understand Tora-Kun's objections cos locking the little guy up like that seems pretty cold on the face of it, but the thing about dogs is that they're not people and can't be reasoned with. They're pack predators and they understand toughlove. You wouldn't let your human baby sleep in the bed with you, no matter how much it cried, because you'd understand that it would be happier and you'd be happier with it in its own space, and the same if true of teh Cuteness.
You will have a few sleepless nights, but before long it will be second nature to go into his box and he'd prefer not to sleep anywhere else, because it's *his*. And anyway, you want him to sleep in the box and you're in charge. Dogs are happier when someone is in charge and they have boundaries, a lot like kids in many ways.
If this sounds harsh, then you could always consider how my Dad trained all of our dogs, which was by Force of Personality. We had a terrible time with Morag, my first own real dog. Her housebreaking went on for about two months, because we could never catch her in time and my Mum wasn't hugely intimidating when we did. At night she wasn't boxed but went into the yard, where she was pretty safe and could go wherever she wanted, so holding it in till morning wasn't an issue. We were in California at the time, so she was hardly going to catch cold, plus there were no alligators or snakes.
Then one day at dinner she did it in front of my Dad on the kitchen floor, and it was like watching a tornado burst into the room. Into the puddle went her nose (which is considered cruel nowadays but was standard practice back then), as her poor bottom ascended into the air as he picked her up and heaved her out the door, claws all a-scuttle on the lino. It wasn't particularly violent, but it looked like it was, probably because my Dad was so angry.
And that did the trick. Never again.
Force of personality does amazing things for dogs, which are hierarchical by nature. Apparently the alpha female wolf in a pack stops the other females from going into heat by means of glaring at them. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I consider that little factoid and it always makes me smile. You'll find that Darwin becomes a lot happier when he's housebroken because he's got someone higher up the totem pole than him. I know it goes against many of my (and doubtless your) cherished human ideals about liberty and individualism and all that, but dogs love that totalitarian shit. They're like anti-cats.
God, I love dogs. They rock. They are the Samwise Gamgees of the Animal Kingdom.
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I understand Tora-Kun's objections cos locking the little guy up like that seems pretty cold on the face of it, but the thing about dogs is that they're not people and can't be reasoned with. They're pack predators and they understand toughlove. You wouldn't let your human baby sleep in the bed with you, no matter how much it cried, because you'd understand that it would be happier and you'd be happier with it in its own space, and the same if true of teh Cuteness.
You will have a few sleepless nights, but before long it will be second nature to go into his box and he'd prefer not to sleep anywhere else, because it's *his*. And anyway, you want him to sleep in the box and you're in charge. Dogs are happier when someone is in charge and they have boundaries, a lot like kids in many ways.
If this sounds harsh, then you could always consider how my Dad trained all of our dogs, which was by Force of Personality. We had a terrible time with Morag, my first own real dog. Her housebreaking went on for about two months, because we could never catch her in time and my Mum wasn't hugely intimidating when we did. At night she wasn't boxed but went into the yard, where she was pretty safe and could go wherever she wanted, so holding it in till morning wasn't an issue. We were in California at the time, so she was hardly going to catch cold, plus there were no alligators or snakes.
Then one day at dinner she did it in front of my Dad on the kitchen floor, and it was like watching a tornado burst into the room. Into the puddle went her nose (which is considered cruel nowadays but was standard practice back then), as her poor bottom ascended into the air as he picked her up and heaved her out the door, claws all a-scuttle on the lino. It wasn't particularly violent, but it looked like it was, probably because my Dad was so angry.
And that did the trick. Never again.
Force of personality does amazing things for dogs, which are hierarchical by nature. Apparently the alpha female wolf in a pack stops the other females from going into heat by means of glaring at them. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I consider that little factoid and it always makes me smile. You'll find that Darwin becomes a lot happier when he's housebroken because he's got someone higher up the totem pole than him. I know it goes against many of my (and doubtless your) cherished human ideals about liberty and individualism and all that, but dogs love that totalitarian shit. They're like anti-cats.
God, I love dogs. They rock. They are the Samwise Gamgees of the Animal Kingdom.