February 27th, 2010
In recent days, Miss Mouse has developed a fondness for confined spaces. It started when she discovered she could go behind the couch, wedging in between the wall and the back of the couch. She’d fling a stuffed animal back there, then go rescue him, giggling from her hiding space.
Then we threw a blanket over her little red table, and her first fort was born. She delights in scampering underneath and periodically peeking back out. And, of course, there’s the entertainment center.
So I suppose I really shouldn’t be surprised that her newest love is Riley’s dog crates. What enjoyment can be derived from cramming oneself into a small space that smells very strongly of dog is a mystery to me, but she is in heaven.
Yesterday morning, I had to retrieve her from various crates three times over the course of the half an hour she was up before we left for school. And it’s not as easy as it sounds. They’re pretty big crates and she goes all the way to the far end and balls up. I have to actually get my head and shoulders inside in order to get enough of a grip on her to extract her.
We don’t want the crates to be acceptable play areas because we’re working hard to teach her manners with regards to the dog. And the crate is the doggie’s “private time” area where he can go when he’s tired of being harassed by a small shrieking creature that wants to pull his fur. So we brave the tantrums and continue to remove her, again and again, from her new favorite place, ignoring her assertions that we are terrible parents who relish making her life miserable.
Riley in the meantime, looks utterly bewildered each time he arrives at his crate to find it already occupied. Poor dear.