How to Potty Train an Adult Dog Who Was Never Trained Properly

Last Tuesday Georgie ate my sock and acted like I’d wronged him when I took it back. He gave me this look, head cocked, one ear up like he was saying, “Dude, I was saving that for later.” Classic Georgie. The little morkie menace, all seven pounds of him, thinking he’s a dire wolf in a tiny dog suit. Honestly, if you’re trying to potty train an adult dog who missed the memo as a pup, you’re in for a ride. Georgie was a rescue, and bless his cotton socks, his previous life clearly didn’t involve a potty training curriculum. When we got him, he’d just… go. Anywhere. Anytime. It was a free-for-all. We started with the assumption he knew *nothing*, because frankly, he didn’t. Here’s what actually worked after months of cleaning up mystery puddles.

Crate Training is Your Best Friend (Not Georgie’s)

First off, you need a crate. And not just any crate. We started with the Top Paw Double Door Crate from PetSmart, around $50. It was fine, but Georgie hated it with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. He’d bark, he’d whine, he’d try to escape, leaving little tooth marks on the bars. It didn’t feel like a safe den, more like a prison to him. So, we upgraded. We got the Frisco Enhanced Training & Travel Dog Crate, the plastic kind, for about $70 on Chewy. This was a game-changer. It felt more den-like, more secure. He still wasn’t thrilled at first, but it made a huge difference in his willingness to settle. The point is, dogs don’t like to pee where they sleep. A properly sized crate (just enough room to stand up, turn around, and lie down – not a ballroom) taps into that instinct. We put a comfy blanket in there, a toy, and slowly introduced him to it. Short periods at first, then longer. If he was outside the crate, he was supervised. Period. If I couldn’t watch him, he was in the crate. No exceptions. This stopped the “surprise!” puddles in their tracks.

The Leash is Your Other Best Friend (Georgie Hates It)

This is where Georgie’s inner wolf really comes out. He thinks he should be able to roam free, explore the wilderness of our backyard on his own terms. Nope. Leash. Every. Single. Time. We started with a basic flat collar and a cheap nylon leash. Didn’t work great because he’s a puller when he’s excited (which is always). He’d choke himself a bit, and I felt bad. We switched to the Ruffwear Front Range Harness, about $40 on Amazon. This thing is fantastic. It clips in the front, which helps with pulling, and it’s super comfortable for him. He still gives me the side-eye when I get it out, but he tolerates it. The rule was: wake up? Leash, outside. After eating? Leash, outside. After drinking water? Leash, outside. Before bed? Leash, outside one more time. I became a leash robot. But here’s the thing—by taking him out on a leash at predictable times, I controlled *when* and *where* he went to the bathroom. I could watch for the sniffing, the circling, the pre-pee dance. And when he actually went, I lost my mind with praise and treats. A lot of treats. The Zuke’s Puppy Naturals training treats, about $6 a bag, became his currency. One successful outdoor pee = jackpot.

Timing and Repetition (The Unsexy But Essential Part)

There’s no magic here. Consistency is boring but it works. I took Georgie outside first thing in the morning, before and after meals, after playtime, after naps, and right before bed. That’s at least six to eight times a day. For the first three months, I had a little notebook where I tracked when he went, what he ate, what time, all of it. It looked like the journal of a very obsessed person, which, fair enough, I was. But patterns emerged. Georgie almost always needed to go within 20 minutes of eating. He’d pee about 30 minutes after drinking water. After a play session, he’d need to go within 15 minutes. Once I knew his schedule, I could anticipate it. This isn’t rocket science, but it requires actual attention. You can’t phone it in. Every single success outside, I celebrated like he’d just won an Olympic medal. “GOOD BOY, GEORGIE! YES! OUTSIDE POTTY IS THE BEST THING EVER!” The neighbors probably thought I was unhinged, but he started connecting the dots. Outside = good things happen. Inside accidents = no big party, just a cleanup and a disappointed look from me.

Accidents Happen (And How to Handle Them)

Despite all of this, Georgie still had accidents. Indoor accidents. Frustrating, foul-smelling accidents. The key is how you respond. Never, ever yell or punish him after the fact. He won’t understand why you’re angry. He’ll just be scared of you. When I’d find a puddle, I’d clean it up with an enzymatic cleaner—specifically the Nature’s Miracle Advanced Enzymatic Cleaner, about $8 a bottle. This stuff actually breaks down the urine compounds so the smell is totally gone. If you don’t do this, your dog will smell where they went before and think, “Oh, that’s a potty spot!” and go there again. It’s a vicious cycle. If I caught him in the act, I’d calmly pick him up, take him outside, and if he finished outside, he got praised. If he didn’t, no big deal. I’d just put him back in the crate and try again in 20 minutes. The goal was to be matter-of-fact about it, not make it emotional.

The Patience Part (The Part That Tests Your Soul)

Here’s the real talk: Georgie took about five months to be reliably housetrained. Five months of leashes, crate training, enzymatic cleaner, and vigilance. Some days I wondered if he’d ever get it. Some days, after cleaning up his third accident before 9 a.m., I questioned my life choices. But one morning, about four and a half months in, I realized I hadn’t found an accident in three days. Then a week. Then two weeks. By month six, we were at maybe one accident every two weeks, usually because I’d gotten lazy with the schedule. Now, at a year and a half, Georgie will literally go to the door and stare at me if he needs to go out. He’s got it. My tiny, sock-eating, dire-wolf-cosplaying morkie finally understands the assignment. It took time, consistency, the right equipment, and a lot of patience, but it worked. If you’re in the thick of it right now with your own Georgie, it will get better. Just keep the enzymatic cleaner stocked and the leash handy.