...is going to kill me.
Betty Boop came up with an ingenious way to get the puppy into his crate without making him think I was trying to kill him or imprison him for life.
There's this toy for dogs – I don't know how long they've been around but I don't remember seeing them when I was looking for toys for Buster, back in the day – called a Kong Jawrobics. It's basically a hard rubber toy that's hollowed out, and you're supposed to put treats inside so that your dog has to play with it to get the treats.
Of all the toys I've bought for Atticus, this one, when combined with his favorite treat in the whole world (I cringe to admit in front of you that it's Pup-peroni Dog Treats), is good for endless hours of diversion, usually ending in a maddening stalemate with the Kong accidentally rolled under the sofa, and the dog staring at it forlornly in that way only the black eyed creatures of the world can master.
So, clever (and 75% evil) person that she is, Betty Boop suggested that I stuff the Kong full of Pup-peroni treats and stick it in his crate at bedtime, so he wants to crawl in there.
It worked like a charm.
But Atticus is no fool. He can't stop making water on the hardwood floors, but he's not an idiot.
I decided that I'd let him play with the Kong in the crate for a while before closing the gate, so that he would have a chance to have some fun in there without the stress of wondering why he'd suddenly been cut off from the rest of the world or, more importantly, me.
He was having none of it. The little corker was perfectly happy to go into the crate just long enough to pick of the Kong and bring it back out. We did that game three times without me locking him up before he fell for my evil plan and actually started playing with the Kong inside.
Then I closed the gate.
And that's when the terrible yelping started. It's been going on for a few minutes, and I'm doing my best to reassure him that I'm here and I'm not going to leave him.
So far he seems to be falling for it, but I kinda dread what's going to happen when I finish the entry and stand up to get into my bed.
Cross your fingers for me.
Well, that worked for, like, fifteen mintues.
He woke up as I tried to creep up the ladder and into my loft bed, and he's yelping like he's caught in a bear trap and dying!
For such an otherwise quiet puppy, he's got a set of pipes on him!
Betty Boop came up with an ingenious way to get the puppy into his crate without making him think I was trying to kill him or imprison him for life.There's this toy for dogs – I don't know how long they've been around but I don't remember seeing them when I was looking for toys for Buster, back in the day – called a Kong Jawrobics. It's basically a hard rubber toy that's hollowed out, and you're supposed to put treats inside so that your dog has to play with it to get the treats.
Of all the toys I've bought for Atticus, this one, when combined with his favorite treat in the whole world (I cringe to admit in front of you that it's Pup-peroni Dog Treats), is good for endless hours of diversion, usually ending in a maddening stalemate with the Kong accidentally rolled under the sofa, and the dog staring at it forlornly in that way only the black eyed creatures of the world can master.
So, clever (and 75% evil) person that she is, Betty Boop suggested that I stuff the Kong full of Pup-peroni treats and stick it in his crate at bedtime, so he wants to crawl in there.
It worked like a charm.
But Atticus is no fool. He can't stop making water on the hardwood floors, but he's not an idiot.
I decided that I'd let him play with the Kong in the crate for a while before closing the gate, so that he would have a chance to have some fun in there without the stress of wondering why he'd suddenly been cut off from the rest of the world or, more importantly, me.
He was having none of it. The little corker was perfectly happy to go into the crate just long enough to pick of the Kong and bring it back out. We did that game three times without me locking him up before he fell for my evil plan and actually started playing with the Kong inside.
Then I closed the gate.
And that's when the terrible yelping started. It's been going on for a few minutes, and I'm doing my best to reassure him that I'm here and I'm not going to leave him.
So far he seems to be falling for it, but I kinda dread what's going to happen when I finish the entry and stand up to get into my bed.
Cross your fingers for me.
Well, that worked for, like, fifteen mintues.
He woke up as I tried to creep up the ladder and into my loft bed, and he's yelping like he's caught in a bear trap and dying!
For such an otherwise quiet puppy, he's got a set of pipes on him!
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