Monday, July 26, 2010

In a Cage

In the temporary lodging facilities, pet-friendly, they are nice enough to provide a giant crate, two silver dog bowls, and outside a poop bag dispenser so you can "curb your dog".

What the heck does that mean, to "curb"" ones dog? What does the curb have to do with picking up doggie doo doo other than to please pick the doody up off of the curb so I don't have to step in it?

Belly spent exactly six seconds in the crate when we first checked in. I think it reminded her of her too-small crate she used to hide in when she was a young spring puppy.

But then the babies started fighting, I started yelling, and that was the end of Belly in the crate.
(The dog cannot handle conflict. One raised voice and POOF! she's gone, hiding in a corner somewhere shaking and cowering in fear. Poor thing is alone a LOT.)

The kids thought it would make an extra cool fort. At one point they piled up all of their pillows and lovey blankets, aka "Pokies", in the crate, aka Fort.

And then I noticed that even though the bottom of the crate looked clean, there was some dried up mystery goo on the lower bars of the "Fort".

That was the last time they went in that cage.

Phoebe was quite upset.