Rob. Robbie. Robert!
every time I bring home one of the guys from the vets, Robbie just about pees his pants to get at the crate. once I have whoever out and settled, rob gets the crate. he jumps in hysterical anticipation, he throws himself thru the door. he whines, he groans, he digs all of the blankets out, he rushes in and out, pushing the crate with his nose, flipping it over on its side, tosses it upright and dives back inside once more.
Robbie is some kind of weirdo crate addict...he goes off on some kind of plastic induced high. the crate is the very most exciting thing that he has ever found in life.
he is a very strange little guy....his crate fetish is kind of creepy.
i'm not creepy!
now someone who is confined in a crate tonight but not by choice is little coda bear. she is not happy, in fact she is downright broken hearted. why can't she come out and be on the bed with me? plus she is in the dreaded cone to keep her away from her sutures...poor little unhappy baby...a couple of weeks of her forlornly staring at me thru the wire is going to undo me.
someone help me!!