The Kennel

Every time Jonathan and I need to leave the house, we put Angela up in her roomy kennel for her own safety and our sanity. At first, I didn't like leaving Angela in the kennel. I thought it was cruel and inhumane considering we adopted Angela to keep her out of a cage. Eventually, I came around to the kennel.

Why?

Last time I let Angela have roaming-the-house-while-Mommy- and-Daddy-are-out privileges, I came home to find Angela sitting on the kitchen table with:

 1. My leopard print kitten heels torn to shreds
2. A shredded pouch of Chips Ahoy cookies
3. Five bottles of vitamins chewed open and completely eaten
4. Trash scattered all over the floor
5. Chewed up plastic cups from the food pantry
6. Chewed up pencils from the pencil/pen cup
7. Cabinets opened
8. Shredded chew toys with stuffing everywhere

And of course, there's my little Angela, wagging her tail and smiling all the while as if to say: "Welcome home, Mom! Hope you don't mind the mess!"

So yeah, I can live with Angela being in the kennel now.

Honestly, Angela seems to like it in there now that she's used to it. It's become her little home while Mommy and Daddy aren't home. At first, Jonathan and I had to literally drag her in there by the scruff of her neck to get her in there. Now, it's even gotten to the point where we just point in the right direction and Angela goes into her kennel on command without me or Jonathan having to push her in there.

In her kennel, she gets a full bowl of food, a full bowl of water, a soft fluffy towel (hot from the dryer!) to sleep on, some toys, and a knuckle bone to chew on during the day. Seems like she can't cause any trouble in there, right?

WRONG!

She can make just as much trouble.

Whenever I come home from classes or work, I usually find Angela's food scattered all over the kitchen floor surrounding her kennel with her food bowl tipped over. Her water bowl is also tipped over, leaving her not-so-fresh-and-clean towel in the kennel soaking wet and smelling of puppy food. And of course, there's my little Angela, wagging her tail to greet me home and smiling all the while as if to say "Welcome home, Mom! Hope you don't mind the mess!"

I don't. As long as it's compactly contained.