So. I'm working really hard to get Caysun's Crate Love going. I'm crating her at different times of the day. For varying amounts of time. With me in the room sometimes, and sometimes not.
She's doing a great job. On the left you can see Caysun with her "big brother" Ike. She looks perfectly happy, doesn't she?
All day today, I'm working with Caysun, fiddling with different criteria of Crate Love. In between, I still have a real job to do — dog training and all the administrative tasks that go along with the job. The admin work is a job all unto itself, but I digress…
For me, crating is the ultimate "safety net" for both me and for the dog. I can work without worry or wonder. House training stays on track. There are no chewed shoes. It's great.
So. After working all day in my office (and with Caysun), off I go, merrily on my way to actually train some dogs (go figure), and I leave the Crate Love task to that really wonderful husband I mentioned earlier. The dogs are in his care for about 5 hours.
I come home and say to him "It smells like poop in here." (Hey, you wanted to peek behind the curtain, I'm not covering anything up – this is the real deal here.)
He says, "Yeah, the puppy pooped."
"Yeah, no kidding," I'm thinking, but I'm smart enough to keep that in my head. I ask innocently: "Was she in her crate?"
"No, I was in the shower."
"In the shower?! IN THE SHOWER?! You can't leave a 9.5 week old puppy unattended to TAKE A SHOWER!" Again, these are my thoughts, not my words. (Ok, so now I'm editing a little bit. There was some cursing in my thoughts. Four letter words. That start with F.)
What I actually said: "You can crate her while you're in the shower. That's actually a really good time to crate her." (Doesn't that sound better than a lot of F words?)
I swallowed a lot more bad words and went about my business. It was difficult – I worked all day today (and yesterday, and the day before) on getting Caysun comfortable in her crate. Crating her while he was in the shower would have been perfect practice for her. (And clearly, for him, too!)
So while I'm going about my business, I find another pile of poop! This one's in the dog bed! In the dog bed! And I was wondering why none of the dogs wanted to sleep in the bed…I had just found my answer.
I couldn't resist a see-I-told-you-so smart aleck remark about the value of crating, but I did limit it to just one.
I come out to the living room to move the crate into the bedroom, where Caysun sleeps in her crate – happily, I might add! - each night, and what do I run into? A big puddle of puppy pee.
I'm at work for 5 hours and there are (at least) three puddles or piles when I return. Really?!
Clearly, I need to spend a little more time working with my husband than I do the puppy. Clearly, the pup's got the Crate Love thing down pat. Just wished the husband did, too.