Today the dog hauled his blanket out of his house and tore a lot of it apart, as well. It was unusual behaviour for him, but I didn’t hesitate to scold him.
Then, I discovered that there had been a mouse nest. In his blanket. There were mouse babies, quite recently born, now dead. Hence the uncharacteristic destruction. Gah! Vermin! Get it out! In my house?! How dare they?
Not the brightest mouse in the maze, that one. No mouse parenting awards. Let’s have babies in the dog’s house. We’ll live in the blanket, right underneath the dog! It’s warm there. Not a mensa mouse.
It was time to move the dog house from its temporary location over to by our house.
Since the dog house, large, for a large dog, weighed about 300lbs, this meant taking it all apart, carrying the frame through the woods, and putting it back together.
First thing, the steel roof came off.
This made the dog very nervous. He settled into the house like an Occupy protester and started dealing out morose looks.
Next, the sides started coming off, until we were down to the stick frame.
Perhaps I should explain that the dog is very attached to his house. He loves it. I’m not sure why he’s so attached, but it’s his happy sanctuary. He visibly relaxes when he retreats to his house. He keeps a select few favorite bones in there with him, and he gets a little worked up when I get in there to fold his blankets.
But it needs to move with us, so a little renovation is in order.
We took his blankets out and made a spot for him aside from the dog house. He elected to stay in the house.
Finally, we had to make him get out of the house, and sit on his blankets. He did that with all the joy of a hunger strike.
We moved the house frame to its new spot, every step anxiously supervised, and the moment we dropped it in place, guess what?
Then we brought over all the pieces, reassembled, and insulated his house.
He’s still not sure about us. Now he knows what we’re capable of.