Crate Me

She loved having the freedom to roam the house as she pleased. These early hour morning with no one else were priceless . . . no one to answer to . . . no one to take care of . . . just "me" time. She walked through the house checking to make certain that all was well as she tried to decide what to do first.

Food was her first priority. She ate, drank, ate some more, and finally filled her bodily needs. She then proceeded to destroy a few dust bunnies as she made her way through the house. She decided to amuse herself with a game for a bit. However her mouth craved something . . . more.

First she tried her rope knot. It wasn't the right texture for today. Moving on she picked up one of her noise makers--its squeal was satisfying, but too shrill this morning. After all she didn't want to wake the others at home. She tried her nyla bone--too hard for the moment. She went through all her toys and chews. Nothing fit what she craved. The cat came through and she even tried chasing him--and stopped when bared fangs and hind claws found their mark.

It wasn't crunch that she craved, but rather something more sponge like in texture. Something to wrap her teeth into, but that had give and bounce to it. She continued to search for the perfect combination to satisfy the needs of her mouth--not her stomach.

She saw a bucket with someone else's toys and sitting on the top was the perfect chew. It had substance, soft, but solid . . . give, but not too easily. She grabbed the toy and carried it to her favorite place to hang out and enjoyed. Since there was a pair of the toys, she went back and got the second one. Holding it in reserved she returned to the first.

She could hear her family beginning to move about and set her toys to the side. Dad came through as he went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. He patted her head as he came past. She followed him, but when she realized that no treats were forthcoming she returned to her new chew toys.

Mom was busy getting ready for work and moved from room to room. Once she was dressed for the day she came into the hall on her way to the kitchen as well. She carefully moved her new chew toy to the side of the hall so as not to trip mom on her way through.

"Oh, there's my shoes . . . I was looking for them . . . DITA!"

A black and white streak with blue eyes streaked through the hall, into the kitchen, and cowered behind her dad's legs seeking sanctuary. Dad ran to the sound of his distressed wife as she showed him the remnant of her croc sandals--one intact and one with the top missing most of the top. She tossed one of the shoes to him and said "get that dog!" Dad must have wanted to play because he began calling (okay yelling) her name as he chased her through the kitchen.

She streaked past him, and headed out the other door back towards the living room when she saw mom with a "the world is about to end" look on her face and the chewed shoe in her hand. As mom moved toward her she ran back through the other door into the kitchen and under the table.

Dad was quick on her and chased her from under the table. Mom blocked the other door. Her only chance of escape was to streak past mom and down the hall to the bedroom and under the bed.

This didn't work, mom shoved the bed to the side. She ran back down the hall, screeching to a halt as dad came toward her. Pivoting, she turned and ran back toward the bedroom. The door was closed as were all the other doors in the hallways. With parents on both ends closing in on her she dove into the only safe place she could find--her crate. She threw herself to the far corner, covered her head with her paws and prayed "please close the door, please close the door, someone, please close the door so they won't get me."

Mom stood beside the crate and slapped the shoe . . . well what remained of it . . . on top of the crate and YELLED! Dad, thanks be to God, stepped up and shut the door of the crate. Once mom said a bunch of angry words she walked away. Dad stood there and said, "Dita girl, you blew it this time. I think a day in the crate might be a good idea. Don't expect whimper, whines, and big blue eyes to save you this time."

Mom walked--well stomped--away and kept talking about my spending the rest of my life banished from the house. For the rest of the day, I remained quiet, in my crate. Mom never left the house. She went to work via her computer that day--which was in line of sight from my crate. I remained quiet in my crate and whenever mom looked my direction I tried to tell her how sorry I was and that I would never, ever do it . . . well, I was sorry.

Hours passed. Mom's anger cooled. Much later, she came and opened the door to the crate. "Dita, come here." After a very long talk, mom allowed me to come out of the crate and I timidly licked her fingers in remorse. I was sent outside to "do my business" and then put back in the crate. I didn't object . . . I think the crate was my safe spot for the time being.

Over the next couple of days, I was allowed more freedom. Mom grudgingly allowed me to rub my head against her, my gently licks, and repentant pleas wore down her reserves. She finally gathered me to her and stroked my soft fur. Stopping, she held my face in her hands and looked me in the eyes as she told me her shoes, as well as anything else that was hers, were not to be found in my mouth ever again and that there would be dire consequences if they were.

Being a smart girl, as well as one who learns from her mistakes . . . I believe her. Shoes are not to be chewed . . . shoes are NOT to be chewed . . . shoes are not to be CHEWED!

We find ourselves just wandering through life and often do not consider our actions--or their effects upon others. However much we might not expect it to be, our lives impact others . . . both for good, and for bad. Our mindless habits can deprive others of what should be theirs. Our choices have long reaching effects . . . whether for a worker in a sweatshop making a product for us to wear, the destruction of home habitats for the materials to make that which we want, or the provision of an income with which to support a family.

Creator, redeemer, sustainer, help us as we walk through our lives to think about how our actions affect others. Give us compassion and wisdom to think beyond our immediate needs/wants to the good of all affected. So be it. Amen.