Crate Rest Day 5

Dear Eve,
You are so glad you aren't in this house now. This poor dog is so restricted in what he can do, and I find myself losing patience with him. He has devised games with himself, in his crate, which are NOT on the approved list of activities. For example, he has learned how to throw himself against the long side of his crate, so that it rocks enough to slam into the oven door. It makes a really nice, scary sound the first few times you hear it. Next, he digs himself a new bed in his towels, by using both front feet at the same time, the way a human would row with an oar. He added in a little hop, so he slides the towels underneath his feet--sometimes he 'digs' so hard the towels go shooting underneath him to the opposite side of the crate. Of course he needs to up the ante, so next he stuffs his mouth full of towels, THEN does the little dig, with the hop and, sure enough, the tearing sound of the towels can be heard several rooms away. He's also worked on hiding his toys from himself by sliding them under his pile of towels, then he flings the towels away as he searches for whatever he just hid. Of all his games, this is the only one that is low impact, though perhaps his little hop is not as bad as running on pavement for miles at a time....

We only went for one walk today. This morning everyone seemed very subdued, even Ansel. We went out for a slow stroll after breakfast; by the time we returned to the house all three dogs were ready for a nap. I think the A dog and the Bean were so frustrated by going so slowly, remember, NO TROTTING, and M was still recovering from last night's pool run, as well as dinner at the parents' house. Paisle had class tonight, so shortly after dinner and some brain tricks, M saw us leave him yet again. He was so cute, when we returned, sitting in his shredded towels, waiting for me to open the crate and take him out to pee.

I wish tomorrow's rehab session was in the morning, but all of them will be in the afternoon. Maybe that will mean a night of solid sleep after therapy days, instead of waking to the yowling of the confined youngster.