Jailbird dog

Every night when it’s time for bed, J.P. and I have an argument. Sometimes it’s good-natured, sometimes it’s less so. It kinda depends on the day. What do we argue about, you ask? This:

Ready to wake up

For some reason, J.P. believes that a dog should be confined at all times when you can’t be there to keep an eye on it. I understand this mentality, to a certain extent. We put Maggie in her crate when we leave the house, and I don’t have a problem with that. Neither does she—she happily goes in, and doesn’t mind seeing us leave.

The crate you see above is her bed, and it’s in our room. She often sleeps in there voluntarily during the day (according to J.P., anyway), and he likes to “zip her in” at night. She definitely feels cozy in there, and she sometimes curls up along the back wall. But there are other times when I know she’d like to stretch out, and the crate isn’t quite big enough to allow it.

For the last month or so, I’ve been arguing to leave the crate unzipped at night. She can sleep in there if she wants to, but she also has the ability to stretch out and get comfy on the floor (sleeping on the bed is in no way open for discussion). I think it must be like sleeping on a too-short couch—you can live with it once in a while, but every night? Plus, I think she’s trustworthy, and wouldn’t get into trouble.

She does have a tendency to wake us in the morning with her paws on the side of the bed, and if you’re too close to the edge you can get scratched up pretty good. But I really think it would only take a week or so to break her of the habit.

Last night we were at the Jersey shore and didn’t get home until about 12:30. J.P. was beat after the two-hour drive, and went right up to get ready for bed. Of course, I had to spend some quality time with the computer, so I stayed up later. When I went into the bedroom around 2:00, both he and Mags we sacked out. He in our bed, and she—unzipped—in her crate. Of course, I just left her unzipped and got into bed.

At 7:19 this morning, Maggie decided it was time to get the day started. She walked out of the crate, shook off, and headed for the Nylabone a few feet away. I could’ve rolled over and just gone back to sleep, but I KNEW I would be in for it if she woke up J.P. So I got up, pushed her back in the crate, and zipped her in.

As I crawled back into bed and pulled up the covers, J.P. rolled over, lifted his head, and raised the eyebrow over his open eye. Then his mouth turned up at the corners, he lowered his head to the pillow, and instantly returned to blissful sleep, secure in the knowledge that (in his mind, anyway) he was right all along.


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