apple juice

During the day, we keep Yeti in the kennel. Our various experiments with letting her roam free throughout the house during the day have left us with dozens of unmatched socks, shreds of carpet and rug, and bite marks on shoes, cabinets and doors.

So we keep her in the kennel now. Getting her to actually go into the kennel has always been an adventure. A dumb dog, she is not. She has actually memorized the sound associated with turning the Tivo off, and then the TV and then the receiver with meaning that it’s time to go to bed. She’ll be laying on the couch, calmly gnawing on a rawhide or something, I calmly press the buttons on the remote, bee-dup, bee-dup, click, click, I’ll look over, and she’s bolting off the couch.

And she’s not bolting for the kennel. No. She’s heading for the underside of the table, the bed, inside a closet or any other general hiding place she can find.

The dog is smart enough to know when the jackets are being put on, there is a good chance that we’re leaving as well.

So today, I was getting my clothes on to go to work, and Yeti was laying at the top of the stairs. I looked down the hall at her and said, “Yeti! Kennel!”, and went back to room to finish getting dressed.

I say “Yeti! Kennel!” just about every morning, and every morning I have to run around the house, looking for her. Today I came back out of the bedroom and didn’t see her at the top of the stairs. Great. I looked in the office, no, the other bedroom, no, back in our bedroom, no, downstairs, no.

I was climbing back up the stairs when I heard her tail in the kennel. Sure enough, she had layed down in her kennel all by herself.

I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. She got a bunch of treats for that one.