Wearepup. Facebook ad: “What They Don't Tell You About Puppies”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

986887287106410

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network, Messenger and Threads

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0

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Ad text

I keep getting upset at a puppy for doing what puppies do. And I hate myself for it. She pees on the floor. I get frustrated. She looks at me like that. And then I feel worse than she does. It's been happening for weeks. She has an accident. I raise my voice or slam a cupboard or just sigh in this heavy, exhausted way that she absolutely picks up on. Then she goes low. Ears back. Tail down. Staring at me like she's trying to figure out what she did wrong. She didn't do anything wrong. She's fifteen weeks old. She just needed to pee and didn't know where to go. I know that. But when you're on your fourth cleanup before noon and you've barely slept, rational goes out the window. The worst part isn't the mess. It's the guilt after. That ten-minute window where you're replaying what just happened and thinking she's a baby. She trusts me. And I just made her afraid of me over something she can't control. I tried pee pads. Disposable ones. She shredded them. Pulled them apart like toys and left wet pieces all over the hallway. Then peed next to the remains. I bought three different brands and every single one ended up in bits on the floor. So I gave up on pads entirely. Went back to towels and constant supervision. Setting alarms through the night. Following her room to room watching for the squat. I was miserable. She was confused. The whole house was tense. Then a girl in my puppy class mentioned something. She said her vet told her that puppies don't struggle with where to go. They struggle with consistency. If the surface changes, or the spot moves, or it feels different each time, they can't build the habit. Their brain needs one fixed thing to latch onto. Her vet recommended this reusable pad. Fabric, not paper. It grips the floor so it doesn't move. Same texture. Same scent every time. So the puppy starts recognizing it as the one spot. Everything soaks through the top. Nothing gets through to the floor. And because it's fabric, there's nothing to shred. I almost didn't try it. I'd already wasted money on pads she destroyed. But she couldn't rip this one up. It didn't slide. It just sat there. First day, nothing. She walked past it. Second day she sniffed it. Walked away. Came back. Went on it. By the end of the week she was going to it every time. No prompting. No watching. She just knew. And the thing that actually changed wasn't the floor. It was us. I stopped snapping. She stopped flinching. That look she used to give me, I haven't seen it in weeks. Two nights ago she fell asleep on my chest. Completely still. Completely trusting. And I thought this is what I got her for. Not the cleaning. Not the shouting. This. It's called the pup comfort pad. You can read more about how it works here. I just wish I'd found it before she ever had to look at me like that.

Where the ad sends people

https://wearepup.com

What They Don't Tell You About Puppies

pup.