When we first got Abbey, she stayed in her crate whenever we left the house. She had one of those all metal cagey ones because that's what they told us to buy. She hated it. Hated! When we put her in it, she barked and whined until we left the house and started up again when the we pulled the car into the garage.
So one day, John and I were wondering how long it took for her to calm down after we left the house. It didn't occur to us that perhaps she did not calm down. Why that's just crazy. So we came up with this great plan. We'd set up the video camera and leave the house for a 'test' period. John set up the camera on the desk across from the bed and made sure that it was pointed at the crate that was maybe 2 feet from the side of the bed. It was very exciting, we were like spies. I think we were gone for maybe 45 minutes. We left the house to the sound of her freaking out and returned to the sound of her freaking out and reviewed the tape to see 45 minutes of her freaking out. Well, that's just great. We adopted a traumatized dog and we're not helping. And we have the documentation to prove it. She eventually shook the whole crate apart and we came home one day to a tangle of metal rods and dog. At least she was quiet.
Fast forward a week and my friend's 19 year old daughter came over to house sit, and low and behold, what is set up and pointed at the bed? A video camera. Fan-fucking-tastic. "We were video taping the dog." "Really."
*We're not the worst dog owners, really. Our first dog was a greyhound, a retired racer. Best dogs ever. Ever! And laaaazy. He'd run like the wind for an hour and then lay on the couch for the rest of the week. My kinda dog. He came to us fully trained and we slowly broke him of all his good habits and replaced them with our bad ones. Now that is dog ownership.
No comments:
Post a Comment