The Crate Escapes Continue

I leave the shade open a bit at the front of my house. I do this so that when I leave I can peak in and see to what degree the dog is wigging out when left in her crate. How high on the rictor scale is the severity of the wigging.  Last night I came home from work and let her stretch and roam.

I got in touch with an animal behaviorist at this point. I found a few in the Boston area and ended up calling Dr Amy Marder, because basically, she had the most letters after her name. I told her about Harlow and my concerns with her, her behavior and so on and my concerns about her turning into a difficult adult dog. Dr Marder reassured me that her behavior was puppy-related and that I brought her out of her crate too soon. She needs to be crated until she's two.

Two! That surprised me, but I'll go with it.

I put her back in her crate with treats and kongs and hard rubber toys and placed about four clamps on there. When I returned home from my (very nice) date I peaked into the window to see no dog in the crate and signs of mess.

*sigh*

I opened the door to a friendly welcome, "I got out! Look, Mom!  You challenged me and I won the game!"  There was only a magazine in her wake so it wasn't too bad.

Dr. Marder also recommenced that I leave her bedtime crate open with a bed just outside. That worked fine too. I was in bed at midnight and she didn't fuss til about 8:15.

This morning I took her to the dog park. There was a few people there with their dogs, which was surprising because it's so nice out I thought there would be more.

Among the group was two middle aged women sitting next to each other at the picnic table, one woman my age with a doberman lab mix, and a couple with a feisty cairn terrier. Harlow got acquainted with the dogs and because to run and play. When she got to the cairn terrier however, the terrier chased at Harlow and nipped at her, making contact. Harlow gave a yelp, whimpered and came over to me for consoling.

"You're fine!" I reassured her, giving her a once over. The Cairn got a mouthful of fur according to their owner but aside from that, no biggie.

I encouraged Harlow to go play again but the two women on the bench cooed over her "Oh, she got nipped!" they exclaimed "Poor baby!"

"Oh, she's fine!" I told them.

Harlow went to them and stood up on the bench between them, happy to get the attention. They gladly gave it to her.  Then she slumped over to the owner to the terrier and leaned against him pitifully. He obliged too and gave her some nice petting.

"Well, now you are just totally milking it!" I scolded her.

She walked it off and returned to running like mad with the doberman mix. As I watched them run, I could hear Harry Nilsson's song "Best Friend" in my head. Harlow was very happy.

My mission later on was to get some carabiners in an effort to keep Harlow in the crate. We'll see!

Escape artist from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.