I was sitting here at the computer a few minutes ago and I suddenly noticed that it was quiet. Too quiet. I got up and went into the living room, and sure enough, there was Chandler in the classic apostrophe squat, crapping in front of the door. I, unfortunately, could not approach the problem without some anger. That is because I had just taken him out and for five minutes I walked up and down the sidewalk repeating the phrase, "C'mon go potty, potty, potty", until he finally peed. Then I repeated the process saying "Okay, lets go poopys, poopys, poopys.". All the while, Chandler picked up every loose, twig, and leaf, totally ignoring me. I finally gave up and brought him in. Five minutes later the "poopys, poopys, poopys" were processed in his little brain, and he obeyed. Another new development is digging. Chandler thinks lizards who escape him are disappearing into the ground and if he digs far enough, he will get them. He now has at least three holes started, and he is almost impossible to stop once he gets started. This actually could come in handy. He could be used as a roto-tiller in Marks garden, or I could rent him out to a cemetery. I just don't know if they could stop him when he got six feet down.
When I first got Chandler he wanted to chew on everything, from pillows to books. I have eliminated most of his destructive chewing with the pile of toys Molly left behind, and three varieties of chewy strips. Our living room is in a constant state of disarray, with toys scattered everywhere, and at least five chewy strips in various stages of destruction laying around. He has one other favorite toy that I have told him he can't keep, Mark. For some reason he sees Mark as a big chewy strip and constantly bites him on the ankles. Mark then makes the mistake of screaming and flailing his hands about. Chandler likes that a lot. It's like he has a very large, moving, squealing, chewy toy.