When I first got my dog, I was still living in NYC, and everyone and their daytime dealer told me to crate him. He won’t eat your shoes! He won’t eat your power cords! He won’t piss on the clothes you leave on the floor, you damn slob! They told me all of that. I didn’t want to give in, but I did and I got him a crate. It lasted about four days. I don’t know if this was all part of his master plan, but he’d shit in the crate and then roll around in that crap. When I came home, I would find a shitty situation that no one wants to find. I’d have to wash him and since I didn’t have a washer/dryer, it was really fun washing the nasty towel or sheet. I finally raised the white flag, declared him the winner, turned his old crate on its side and used it as a table. I was not about that life and neither was he. So what I’m saying is that if Blaze (whose eyes, vocal cords and body are screaming NO) wants to win the crate wars, he knows what to doo…doo.
And isn’t this how it starts? It starts with a no. I, for one, welcome the Rise of the Planet of the Huskies.