Petey’s pretty content in his cage crate. After all, this is what the experts say: that dogs in the wild will naturally create for themselves locked, fenced-in walls small, private areas they claim as their private, personal space.
Sometimes, he’ll begin whining in there while I’m at work at my desk. It sounds just like a goat’s bleat; it’s kinda funny. I alternate between getting really annoyed if I’m trying hard to concentrate and laughing at him that he’s such a little baby!
Finally if he doesn’t stop, and I go over to check on him, I’ll be super pissed to find him sitting in a pool of his own pee. Finally it hit me:
Pete’s bleating crying is him trying to (first) tell me I have to go! I’m bursting, Dad – take me outside, like, now! (and then) Oh, this really sucks, Dad – I’m wet, sitting in a pool of my own smelly pee. Please make it better, Dad – please !!
Duh, me. Instead of thinking This is weird, Pete usually doesn’t cry in his crate. Why is he crying now? and ignoring it until I discover what he’s done and flipping out…I finally got that the ONLY reason he’s crying is to tell me something.
So basically, my dog is smarter than a fifth-grader I am.
Actually, I can be so selfish caught up in my work, that when the (warning) crying first starts, I’ll try and barter/reason with him, like Wait, Pete. Daddy’s just wrapping up a really important email first. Can you please just hold it a little longer like a big boy? As if, Scott. Really!
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