Gone to the dogs

Do you have a crate-trained dog?  We used to. His name was Paulo, and he was an Italian Greyhound. Still is, actually.  We had to give him to my mom when we moved into our rental last year. I never liked putting him in the crate, because heck, I wouldn’t want to sleep in a crate, but he liked it and felt secure in there.  But now he’s broken that habit, and spends his evenings sneaking out with my dad’s dog, a trouble-making airedale named Rusty, who is nothing but a bad influence on sweet Paulo and has probably convinced him to try smoking a cigarette behind the shed.

Maybe if his crate was as cute as this one from Mindi, these wayward teen years could have been avoided.  Made from an old crib, it’s actually a bit too big for an Italian Greyhound, but I bet Rusty would fit in there real nice.

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