Duke's crate or Dale's new pad?

On Tuesday night, I surrendered. I have heard many things about the wonders of crate-training your dog, giving you a better house-training timeline, a calming place when the dog is nervous, and assistance in keeping damage to your home and possessions at a minimum, are the big three. Duke and I made a late night run to PetSmart after a day of bad potty behavior, despite Ryan's and my best efforts with his schedule.

We are now the proud owners of an iCrate in "Giant" size. I knew it would be big. I had measurements; I had the huge box shoved in my car, taking up most of the backseat and trunk. However, setting it up in the living room was a shock when I stood back. Duke loved it, once I moved to his usual spot, and put his bed inside. Yay, bed! (Sorry for the lighting, it was 10:30pm, and I had to use my phone when I couldn't put my hand on the camera.)



He's adjusting to the idea that he will be on his bed in the crate after I leave and before Ryan gets home. Usually he would go to his bed when told, then happily get up the minute the door was shut and either jump on the couch or find something inappropriate to chew like wooden furniture or pieces of electronic equipment. This will help with all those things. He even has his chewie, and some chicken when he's in there.

What's hilarious is that Dale is still intrigued by Duke's bed, even in the crate. When Duke went outside for a potty break last night, Dale proceeded to walk just inside the crate, sniffing as he went. He didn't lay down, like before, but then that was right after the bed cover had been removed for washing, and right now it's heavily Duke-scented and still there. I just wish I had gotten a picture this time. But here's last time, so you get an idea of how bold a cat he can be when in the mood.

"Is the dog for sale?"

I spent some time this weekend working at the estate sale my mother's family had at my Great-Uncle Charlie's house. What's surprising to me is that over the 10 hours I spent wheeling and dealing with the shoppers, the most common question I got was, "Is the dog for sale?", closely followed by, "How much for the dog?"

Waiting for more shoppers:



Duke had come to the estate sale, like the Rat Pack came to Vegas. He was supposed to be security, by looking intimidating and keeping folks from dropping too much into their pockets. This backfired, but in a good way. Instead, he broke the ice, provided entertainment for the kids (both the family and the shoppers) and generally made the day go by a little faster for all. He got pats, scratches, hugs, and even some food.

After the rush:

Words into the darkness

I've never been much of a writer. I was notorious as a young woman for buying journals (or receiving them as gifts), dutifully writing for a few weeks, and then losing the journals in the mess that was my desk or my bookbag, or hiding it from my sisters and promptly forgetting about it. Yet, this modern day alternative, blogging, has captured my interest. I'll give it a try and see how this pans out. Perhaps one difference is that there may be someone who stumbles upon this site and actually wants to read a post or two.

As for the blog itself, it may contain anything from reports on my gardening efforts, or diatribes about aching knees and feet from dancing. There will most likely be posts about our pets, and our ongoing struggle as first-time homeowners to figure out how to turn a little 40's bungalow into our home.

But more on all that later, my coffee break is over, I'm back to work.