I am sad to report that I am no longer safe in my home. The furniture is attacking me.
Namely: My crate bit me.
I am a Chewaholic. Like the nympho high school cheerleader you all made fun of but secretly wanted to be for a day, I am not happy unless something hard is rubbing against my teeth. Usually, for me (and the cheerleader), it is a bone, but sometimes you want something more.
I am fortunate not to be in my crate very often, but when I am, I ask myself, "what does this bitch taste like?"
Because it is dangerous and untameable, the crate is kept in the bedroom, which none of us enter, except in at least pairs, for safety reasons. Heaven helps us if the crate catches one of us alone.
On Friday morning, my Dad went out to buy me treats and whatever crap they consumed. My mom was taking a shower. She does this daily, and it is frustrating. I spend all day getting the smells arranged on her, and she washes them off. I was lying on the bathmat as all my beloved fragrances circled the drain. I was chewing a bone when it stopped doing it for me, and I needed something more substantial.
Then I thought of my crate, plastic and metal gate, two great tastes that go great together. I began chewing the side of the crate near the black tabs that keep the top and bottom connected. They are a great surprise treat, like polar bears eating an igloo and finding a creamy human center.
I was getting my teeth in the perfect part of the crate when the top and bottom parts of the pieces met. Suddenly the crate shifted, and my lip got caught in between them.
It bit me!
I had been assaulted!
I yipped and ran to her. She picked me up and realized what had happened. She calmed me, placed me on the floor, and went to the crate, which I was sure would be put in the shed jail, where warden Saint Anthony would rehabilitate it. It could be a planter.
But she just turned it against the wall, so I didn't chew the same spot (like it was my fault!), and the crate couldn't see me.
I had to accept that it was for punishment, and the worst thing to befall the family since I arrived was over.
Jeepers, how will she ever get along with the sofa if a dog can't trust her crate?\
How on earth did the crate bite you? Well, I hope it doesn't happen again.ReplyDelete
Wowzers! I think you should pee or throw up on it...That's what I do! Purrs MarvReplyDelete
wow that crate is nor crateful for being your crate... we think mar has a good idea for revenge...ReplyDelete
Bad Crate. Bite it again.ReplyDelete
Well that crate needs to be punished for biting you! We think it needs a LONG time out. !from Chipper and Jax!ReplyDelete
Ruby, trouble finds you, no doubt about it!ReplyDelete
Wow. Too scary. I am now wondering if I should go near my crate tonight...ReplyDelete
This is just not right. Crates are not supposed to bite you and be mean to you, Ruby. Angel Maggie loved her crate and felt safe inside it always - even after mom took the door off. We hope this never happens to you again!ReplyDelete
We sure hope the crate bit you by accident....I can't imagine what I would do if my crate bit me.ReplyDelete
I spewed my coffee with what does this bitch taste like. I think the crate bit you by mistake.ReplyDelete
Have a woof woof day and week, Miss Ruby Rose. My best to your mom. ♥
Yep, best thing to do is to pee on it. And then stick to chewing that kong:)ReplyDelete
Woos - Lightning, Misty, and Timber
Crates can be good or bad, looks like you got a BAD one!ReplyDelete
What a naughty crate.ReplyDelete
Boston is learning some of those tough lessons too. He has graduated to a big wire crate but he discovered the dangers involved with the rocking chair. One squeezed paw and a close encounter with the tail.ReplyDelete