Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

When I thought that Dorothy might have to spend a few days in her crate wearing the cone of shame, I took the partition out of her crate to make it larger.  As it turns out, however, Dorothy was not even remotely interested in her stitches or her surgery site, so she ended up only wearing the cone of shame for one night.

I have yet to put Dorothy's crate partition back in.  For one thing, she has had a growth spurt lately, so when she stretches out, she really does take up the whole crate.  But I've also discovered that with the partition out, I can put her favorite bed in the back of the crate, with her quilt from her Aunt Elsie and a few toys in the front of the crate--we call that area her "front porch."  So she now has a nice cuddly bed in there for snuggling in, and then a nice front porch area for storage and for stretching out in (if it turns out it's for piddling in, I'm putting the partition back in stat....)

But now that the crate is all nice and roomy, complete with handmade quilt, Sir Plum has decided that it is a worthy place for him to spend an evening, and indeed a whole night.

Plum, looking a wee bit sheepish:

Despite harboring some initial reservations about the spot, after spending a few nights there, Plum decided that he Liked It Very Much Indeed.  So one evening when I returned from running errands and opened Dorothy's crate to let her out, Dorothy made the critical error of not exiting from her crate immediately.  For while she was still dawdling in her bed, Plum decided to settle down into his spot on the crate's front porch.  Which brings us to:

I call this picture, Guess Who's Stuck?

Plum's eyes are closed, and he's all comfy on the quilt.  How peaceful, you might think!  How sweet!  But Dorothy soon decided that she would prefer to snooze on the couch.  Instead of just standing up and leaping out the door of the crate, though, she let her nerves get the best of her and sat hemming and hawing in the bed, giving Plum time to stretch out his paw and hold it all ready, talons primed for some slapping.  Dorothy moved forward an inch, Plum air slapped in front of her nose!  Dorothy began to move--oh! air slap!  Dorothy sat back down.  She stood up--air slap, air slap, hair away from snout slap! Dorothy sat back down.

Finally I came to her rescue and pulled her out while blocking Plum's punches.  I'm not sure what the moral of this story is, although I feel it has one somewhere.  Don't let Purple Sirs nap on your front porch?  When your mother opens the door of your crate, exit the crate immediately and give her a proper greeting?  Invest in a bulldogge-size suit of armor?  Hmmm, I think the second one has a nice ring to it.