From the moment my parents decided they were getting me, they spent so much time on the internet looking up tips on how to raise a puppy. Mom had dogs before, but she said that this time, with me, everything was different. Starting with the crate. The loving, hating relationship with the crate.
As I mentioned in the previous post, I started my crate training from day one in my forever home. It was not easy. Dad got one extra-large crate (since they had and still have no idea how big I will get – Little update: I’m almost 7months, about 70lbs) for the bedroom and a small (that I barely fit) carry-on type of crate for the living room; that’s the one they attached to the playpen.
First night
I slept like an angel because I was too tired from our road trip. Which made mom and dad very impressed with my behavior and wonder if they just got the best dog in the world. Haha, funny humans, little they knew that the nightmare was coming in the second night.
Second night
About one hour before bedtime, dad started tricking me with treats to make me go in the crate by myself. This is very important for your puppy, make him/her acclimate to the crate and actually like it. Don’t just force the puppy to go in and close the gate. So the ritual took about half an hour with backing in forward. Dad would lead me to the crate, close the gate, give me tons of treats, open the gate, let me get out, start again. Until, eventually, I get in and sit down, sleep. Once I was in the crate, mom and dad got in their bed, and I started to cry. I don’t know why I was such a baby, maybe because I missed my previous home and my biological mama. I began to cry like a dying pig. If you never heard a dying pig before, you have no clue how I sounded like. It was terrifying. Mom and dad got earplugs, and really, I don’t know how they did it, but they just booked through the night. I eventually stopped crying and fell asleep, but the next morning they looked like zombies, and I’m sure they didn’t get a good night’s sleep.
Third night
Same thing… I enjoyed going in the crate, but once mom and dad got to bed, I started whining. I really didn’t want to be there, but my crying didn’t help me at all. My parents ignored me one more time, and I fell asleep again on my own.
After this night, mom and dad decided that it was time for me to get some crate training during the day. They started to trick me into the crate for 10-15min during the day, and it was great for me because I was getting tones of yummy treats.
Fourth night
Crate battle continues, and nothing changed. I still cried after my parents shut off the light and got in their bed. I knew they could hear me, I knew I was annoying them, I knew I was a baby, but I had a little hope that they would come and rescue me if I cried louder. Oh, well, silly me. This never happened, and this was the last time I cried like a dying pig in my crate during the night. I started sleeping 8h with no accidents in the crate. Actually, I only had two accidents in the crate, but it was not my fault. I was having some diarrhea issues, and it was not pleasant for me.
Day crating
Once I mastered the night crate training, another trick time arrived: stay in the living room crate for a couple of hours during the day. For this training, we made a fun game using the commands: ‘go home,’ ‘sit,’ and’ okay’. Dad or mom got my favorite toy or treat and guided me to my crate, saying ‘go home’. Once I got in the crate, they told me to sit, keeping the gate open, then they would go to the other side of the room, look into my eyes, and tell me “okay,” which meant I was okay to leave the crate and get my toy/treat. We repeated this game couple of times for days. It really stuck in my brain that every time they have something excited for me and don’t give it to me right away, I just run to my home without them telling me to do so, hoping I will get whatever they have in their hands. I don’t find this trick working too often anymore. Maybe mom and dad need a little reminder that if I go home, I deserve something good. I’ll tell you guys, humans take things from grant sometimes.
Final results
Oh man, I really didn’t get why my parents couldn’t just let me wandering free around the house. Why did they want me crated? What were they scared of? That I would chew their furniture? That I would pee or poo in the house? That I would eat something that I should not eat? That an earthquake would happen and something would fall in my head? That I would chew the tv outlet and start a fire? These are all ways to look at how necessary crate training is, and mom and dad were right to be afraid of all these things, and to avoid it, they trained me to love the crate. However, making me love my crate, or as we all call it, “my home,” avoided so much stress in everyone’s life. If mom needs to take her long showers, I just jump in the crate. If dad needs to cook dinner while mom is still working, I am again in the crate. If they need to go on their date night without me (which I find pretty hurtful when they do that), in the crate is where I stay. If friends come to visit and I don’t give them personal space, the crate is where I need to go.
Today I have no problems staying in the crate during the day or night, even if I’m by myself in the house. Mom and dad let me with water, and I’m just fine.
