Frustrated, ugh.

My little man might leave me soon :-( 

Some good news! Rocket man has a potential adopter. I've been told she is a very nice woman, she passed all the interviews, and she even cool about his super-pee issues (which have gotten better by the way!). Yay for Rocket!! Hopefully the little man makes a good impression. I'd love him to settle into a forever home. With the year he's had, he totally deserves it. 

But you know, my start to the current rescue was bumpy. I decided not to write anything negative for a couple reasons. I mean, I didn't want to scare anyone away from fostering. With the right rescue fostering is an amazing experience. I also was a little scared someone from the current rescue would read it and get offended. Who am I kidding, I need to vent my completely one-sided story about the whole thing. 

I don't know, maybe I was just spoiled with my last rescue. All Breed Canine Rescue was amazing to work with. I say work with rather then for for because that's just what it felt like. I felt included in the organization. From the day I picked up my first foster I  felt they respected me and trusted my opinion about everything. I was involved in the entire process with my fosters: vet care, training, interviewing potential homes, deciding on homes. Everything was easy. I still keep in contact with some of the ladies for advice or just some good old dog-world gossip. 

I'm not having a good experience with this rescue. My first conversation with the main woman running the place went well. She was extremely nice and easy to talk to. Then I set up the home interview. 

Now I didn't do a home interview with All Breed. I chatted on the phone with the founder a few times and I spent some time with the woman who gave me Beans but even though I agreed to it, the home interview just never happened. I didn't really know what to expect. I mean, I had did a couple home interviews for adoptions before so I kind of expected the same thing. You know, everything looks safe, people look sane, current pets are well taken care of, etc, but mostly just being friendly and chatting about the dog, getting a good impression. But holy crap, the woman who came to interview us, lets call her Jane, was intense. It started even before she got in the door! I pulled the classic "Oh so sorry, it's a little messy, te-he!"(it was freaking spotless) and I expected a polite "Oh no worries, I'm sure it's perfectly fine." but no. I got a "Yah, well it's good to see what your really like anyways." Bitch. 

The moment Jane walked in the door she turned and said "Do you keep your toilet seat up like that all the time?" Shocked at being bombarded even before I introduced her to Ryan and Callie, I stammered that when we were gone we closed the door because Callie gets into the garbage. "Well you know they make garbages that have lids on them..." was the response, followed by a lecture on how dogs shouldn't drink from the toilet. I  told her I agreed, but Callie had never tried to drink from the toilet but that didn't stop her. Oh and for some reason it was necessary to leave the bathroom door open, can't remember why. 

I don't do well with being told what to do, especially if I think it's stupid, my own ideas are way better, and the person telling me to do it is a total bitch. So by now I was bubbling in anger and resentment. Thinking things like "I'm going to shut that damn bathroom door all day ever day you stupid know-it-all." Ryan was feeling pretty much the same thing. She walked up the hall and told us the dogs would need to be separated at meal time. I told her I got why she'd say that, but I have pretty strict meal time rules and it wouldn't be a problem. In one ear out the other I swear. I'm sorry but I get that you need to hit all the talking points you had planned but I mean commmeee on. If the person your talking to, namely me, seems to have a good grasp on what your saying, common sense would say drop it, and move on to a new topic. 

I can't even remember all the ridiculousness that Jane said. One thing I remember is me saying that sometimes I take Callie rollarblading and joked that she doesn't really enjoy it if there's not another dog to run along with us and I got chastised because Callie obviously didn't like it because she wasn't in shape, or sorry "Trained for that." Like really? My half sighthound, in obviously excellent shape isn't "trained" to run? Kiss my ass.

It was only about a half hour meeting but it felt like years. Oh and to top it all off when Ryan proudly stated we had taken in about a dozen dogs in our day she smirked and said "Yah, well I've done over a hundred." 

And that was just the first day! 

Everything went fine for awhile, until I asked if Rocket was going to be put on a flea medicine for the summer. I was then told that if I rrrrrrrrreally wanted he could be, but she'd have to ask the lady in charge of finances. That should have been my first clue. When Rocket started to have bowel problems it was a complete hassle. The vet they wanted me to take him to was way out of town. This is a HUGE city with hundreds of vets for god sakes! It would have been a 40 minute drive without traffic! When I suggested maybe there was a vet in town I could take him to I could tell I stepped on toes. Eventually we had to get a volunteer to drive him out to the vet because I wanted him taken to the vet but couldn't get to the vet on transit. It was just such a process. I had to talk to one woman, who had to talk to another woman, who had to call the vet and arrange appointments, and on and on. 

When Rocket's peeing issues got bad, it was decided Jane would come give me some sterile containers to take a urine sample and give me "pointers." I almost died. I'd managed to avoid the devil lady for awhile but now I had no choice. To top it all off I was sick and kind of grumpy. Jane tried to tell me that both Ryan and I had to be home, but to save Ryan the experience I said it wouldn't be possible and quietly suggested that it was unnecessary any ways. I understand she wanted to see us both interact with Rocket but I had no intentions of getting another off-based lecture, and I was already trying to figure out a way to keep her out of my house and there by being trapped with her again. I was outside about ten minutes before Jane was supposed to be here, making sure there was no reason for her to even enter the lobby. I took the containers, and even after explaining I knew how to get a urine sample Jane made sure to go over the process a few times. We talked over Rocket's behaviour and Jane asked me a few questions here and there. A lot of her suspicions seemed to involve Ryan. It was like she though Ryan was beating the pee out of poor little Rocket. I made sure to set her straight there, Ryan is pretty much Rock's favourite person in the world. Jane had basically no suggestions on what to do, just test his urine for an infection. Way to go oh wise one. She had some other suggestions though (of course): I shouldn't jog with Rocket and should watch his exercise because he's not "trained for it" (again, really? And he's a damn Jack Russel, without exercise he's be bouncing off the walls), Rocket's leash clip was too heavy (Oh my! How has he lived this long with such a torturous weight!?), he should wear a harness, I shouldn't put Rocket in his kennel to calm him down (even though its the only place he will be calm). I can't even remember every thing but let me tell you, it was stupid and very unhelpful. I did, however, manage to keep her out of my apartment and the visit short. I also let it be known occasionally her ideas were dumb - I was sick and a little testy about everything.

Jane visit two over and done with we got the urine sample in and tested. Nothing was wrong. I sent the main woman a email saying that although I was happy Rocket wasn't sick, I was a little bummed the problem couldn't be cleared up with a round of medication. I also asked her why some of the new pictures I had been sending hadn't been put up, and asked if there was anything coming up they needed help with because I wouldn't mind being more involved. I must have hit some buttons because I got an email back that was anything but nice. Boy, this woman has the "Bitchy but professional" thing down pat. Its too bad I'm upset but Rocket's problem is obviously an emotional issue that needs work. They didn't put the new pics up because the volunteers who organise the website thought all the old ones were cuter. And what do I want to do, I don't have a car so it's not like I can drive anywhere. 

I was kind of shocked. I read the email I sent over and over, looking for a way it could be interpreted that would warrant that response. I sent both emails to friends asking for honest advice and they were left clueless. I most definitely stepped on some toes. I get the feeling it's the kind of organization where "We do it this way because we do, okay? Just do what your told" and I hate that more then anything. For instance the adoption process seems excessive. I truly believe there's a fine line between getting the right people for the right dog and scaring people away. The process for this rescue is on the verge of scaring people away. I don't disagree with the steps I just think it could be done better. They do a phone interview, talk by email, then a home interview, a little more talking, then they meet with the dog, and more talking. A phone interview is great. Gives a good first impression and gives a chance to kind of talk about the dog and bring up any issues. I don't disagree with the home visit either, most good rescues to it. That being said, I think don't think it's completely necessary. With my last rescue home visits were always suggested, but only really done if I, or a lady from the rescue, needed additional information or felt uneasy. Sometimes I'd just do the home visit and first meeting all in one. Most the time if I felt uneasy I just wouldn't go ahead with the adoption. I just think the adoption process has to be people friendly while keeping the dogs best interest in mind. The family who adopted Keisha passed up a few rescues with too strict policies because they were uncomfortable sharing too much information. I mean sure, the husband was a specialist in online privacy contracts but they still had a point. They seem to be the perfect adopters thus far so it's unfortunate other rescues didn't give them a chance. The point is to get these dogs adopted after all. 

To top everything off they just need to be involved in everything. I was given Rocket's potential homes contact info so we could work out a time to meet up. I told the rescue I'd set up a meeting and tell them how it went. Today I got a message telling me I need to include the rescue in each one of my emails. Come on now, is it necessary to be included in emails like "So when's good for you?" "How's 11?" "Umm, no good, how's 10?" "Thanks great! See you then!" "Ok call when you get close." Fuck off. As I mentioned I'm not good with being told to do things I think are ridiculous. I'm kind of on the line of sending an email with the whole "bitchy but professional" vibe she seems to be so good at and/or continuing to just not include her in emails. I think I've talked myself out of the bitchy email but I'm definitely not including her in any damn emails. 

Wow, long rant, but I needed to get it out. I by no means think I'm an expert, or better then these ladies at dog rescue. I know this is my first dog with them. I can also rationalise and understand their side of things on pretty much every issue. But I still think a lot of it is unnecessary. Jane shouldn't be shoving her training opinions down my throat. You don't see me going up to people on the street saying, "You know miss, your boy dog shouldn't have a pink  leash, that's just weird!" No, I simply hope to myself they grabbed the wrong leash on the way out of the house. And I don't appreciate being treated like an employee when I'm the one doing them the favour. Needless to say I've picked out a new rescue with the help of some of the ladies from All Breed. 

Raccoons

The other night Ryan and I were walking home from a baseball game. As we walked towards the entrance of the apartment building I stopped and pointed out two young raccoons. They looked a little too young to be without their Mom, but she was no where to be scene. As they saw us, they tried to run and jump up into the flower bed. They were so little they couldn't really manage it, and I began to worry about dogs or drunk jerks walking by. One made it up and ran into the bushes. Then the most adorable thing happened. The raccoon left the safety of cover and ran to the side of the flower bed and reached down a hand to help his stranded sibling. Animals can't be altruistic? Kiss my ass.

I'll admit to a soft spot for raccoons. My home growing up, thanks to my step mom, always had some sort of rescued animal. To this day I'm pretty sure my dad and step mom never went actively looking for a dog, they always just kind of  showed up - and we lived in the middle of no where. As a kid I played with two Arctic wolf pups rescued from a crappy, and abusive road side zoo - until we found an amazing animal sanctuary, Aspen Valley Wildlife Sanctuary, for them to live out their lives. I helped raise litters upon litters of kittens. And my favourite: helped raise a few litters of raccoons too!

Que Rolo:

Let me sleep!

I think it was my first (and only) summer back home from university. I live about twenty minutes outside of a small town and I was on my way home after a long day at work. There's a little retirement pre-fab home park about half way to my parents house that had a couple ponds and lots of wildlife. In front of the park I noticed a little lump of road kill, which always pulls at my heart strings. As I drove by I could have sworn I saw the lump look up at the car. I drove almost all the way back home, stopping short to pull into my neighbours driveway to think. Had it really lifted it's head? Couldn't have, your just being crazy... Right? 

So I drove all the way back.

As I got out of the car, I realised I was right. The lump that was formally a young raccoon was indeed breathing. It wasn't really moving, and there was blood coming from her nose but she was breathing. Whether it was going to live or not I couldn't leave it there. I wrapped her up in an old sweater and drove her home. 

We found an abandoned kitten the same night! Best friends. 

After waking up my step mom by crying and screaming words like "Baby," "Car," and "Blood" she brushed the sleep from her eyes and grabbed a cat crate, heating pad, and a syringe. She handed everything to me with instructions to keep her warm, but not too warm in case of dehydration, and to see if she'll drink water from the syringe. I spent the night with her wrapped up in my sweater with me on the couch, waking up now and then to see if she wanted a drink. By morning she was opening her eyes and taking a good amount of water. After a conference with our vet it was concluded she has no broken bones but was probably hit in the head, causing her brain to swell. She was showing good signs but I was told not to get my hopes up. 

That day Ryan came over to see me sitting on the couch talking to a bundle that he thought was baby. I'm not sure if he questioned that well enough, considering I'm not one known to enjoy holding human babies... He came over to see the "baby" and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw what I really had. But come on, kind of cool right? After I convinced him that no, not all raccoons had rabies we took turns giving her water. 

Over the next few days we realised she couldn't really move the right side of her body. The vet said it was probably more to do with the brain swelling, not a spinal injury, and would get better as she healed. It actually made caring for her waayyy easier then the litters that came before her because she kind of just moved in circles and couldn't climb. All the little circles inspired us to call her Rolo. She had a little pen that we set up in the living room but could also be moved outside. She was very nice considering she was a was a wind animal. She growled and nipped a bit if you touched her on her right side because she couldn't see out of that eye or protect herself. She'd sit on my lab, come over for pets, and she LOVED to play little games with all the toys we got her. To help her get a little exercise my dad put down a 2by4 that Rollie would lean her right side against and use her left side to walk. A little coon raceway!

I like this picture bc it looks like she's giving me the finger!

She got progressively better and better and we'd often take her outside to hang out in the yard. She'd go exploring for bugs or the bits of food I'd leave for her to find. We couldn't leave her unattended in fear of hawks, but we were always able to find her because her best friend (a kitten we found the same night) was always standing vigil.. and eating her food. 

At the end of summer my parents drove her up to Aspen Valley and she spend another year and a half there getting ready for release. The sanctuary has this huge raccoon village where she stayed after she was well enough to live safely. It's full of tree's and little raccoon forts and jungle gyms - basically raccoon heaven if your not well enough to live in the wild. I'm happy to say Rollie was released in 2009, healthy and fat, into an area far away from any more cars.

Favourite Things!

Heart shaped spot!!

I just noticed that a spot of Rocket's back is in the shape of a heart! What a cutie. It kind of inspired a look into their favourite activities, you know the ones that don't include food.

Callie lllloves laundry. In this pic she's "helping" me fold the still warm laundry. She would stay there all day, or at least till the clothes got cold. She also loves gross dirty towels. I have no idea why, but the moment one falls to the floor on the way to the washer she will roll in it in ecstasy. One time we were looking at apartments and were shown a place where the man was a complete slob. He has moved out a couple weeks before and left a bunch of gross crap laying around. One of those items was a disgusting, smelly old towel. We had taken  Cal on the apartment hunt since it was in a different city and we didn't want her all alone all day. The minute she laid eyes on that towel she was in heaven. And we were forever scarred. 

All smiles!

Callie loves when Ryan comes on walks with us. Look at that happy face! Usually it's because on Ryan's day off I end up dragging him all over to the places we didn't have time to go during the week. This always includes the dogs and generally a trip to a favourite dog park or two. 

Good night!

Rocket loves his blanket. He had this huge, ugly, smelly comforter that he would snuggle under every night. I tossed it out and bought him a smaller blanket, but he has a bit of a hard time getting this one wrapped around him. I like to tuck him in now. At least until I get him a bigger  blanket.

They both love to sun tan! Callie prefers  to sit on the balcony so I started putting the bed out there in the mornings while the sun hits our apartment. Rocket can't imagine having to lay on the floor, so now he joins her out on the bed. Generally Callie is not a dog-on-dog cuddler, but for some reason she puts up with him. As long as he doesn't touch her of course. 

Woofstock 2011!

Woofstock is pretty much amazing. The amount of dogs and there people that go is just crazy! Every vendor has some sort of new and interesting dog thing to try out. Everyone has free treats, and we walked home with tonnes of free samples and information. Many of the dogs were dressed up, some with their hair dyed funky colours for the doggie fashion show. There was pretty much every breed imaginable out there to see. 

I'm terrible with my camera so I don't have a lot of pics. When I remember to actually bring the camera somewhere I always forget the fact you actually have to take it out and snap away to get actual pictures. There's some actual pictures here http://www.woofstock.ca/whatiswoofstock.htm

Last year we did a beginners agility course and Cal sucked pretty bad, so I didn't try to embarrass her again this year.

Happy little dogs go to Woofstock!

Just a regular day...

I wanted to post a couple pic's from our Woofstock adventure this weekend but then this day happened. I want to say it was an abnormal day, but if I'm completely honest crap like this happens constantly. I always kind of think all my guardian angels held a meeting and were like: "Okay well we wont let anything BAD happen, but let's just totally screw with her on a daily basis!" A normal person's crazy story is something like "Omg, today I saw this crazy homeless guy wearing a pirate hat hit on this poor girl!" and in my story I am that girl. That actually happened today. He called me a pretty lady. 

It was just another normal day in Casa de Crazy. I'm pretty much dead with a stupid cold, channel surfing. Callie's hanging out on the balcony enjoying the sun. Princess Rocket is enjoying the rays from inside on a nice fluffy bed. All of a sudden I see a black ball in the corner of my eye. I turn to see a freaking bird sitting on my windowsill ON THE INSIDE. This took us all by surprise as you might imagine. Did I mention I live on the 6th floor? Not unusual to see birds this high I guess, but big scary Callie (at least to a little bird) was sitting on the balcony! Rocket immediately started trying to jump and get it, only to be blocked by a variety of furniture - this was infuriating to the little Jack Russell. So he barked at it. Callie stood half in, half out of the action. I was trying to usher the bird outside so it would stop banging it's head on the window. We were all failing. Well, maybe not Callie, she was still kind of just observing.

Plan B. I decided things would be a lot easier if Rocket wasn't bouncing around trying to get his tiny jaws on this bird. As I finally manage to grab him the bird decides to fly over into my kitchen, away from the open door. Callie follows it and ends up scaring it into the hallway outside the bathroom. The bird kind of smacked into the wall and fell to the floor. Callie runs over, and I yell at her thinking she's going to eat it. A closer look showed she was kind of poking at the bird with her snout, until it got up and flew into the bathroom. I finally manage to wrestle Rocket into his kennel (forgetting to put on the second lock) and I sprint to grab a towel. In the bathroom I find Cal, sitting, staring into the tub wagging her tail, and a little bird sitting in the tub staring back at her with it's head cocked. I covered it in the towel and gently picked it up. All the while Rocket is screaming at the top of his lungs bouncing around in his kennel. Callie and I make it out on the balcony just as Rock breaks out of the kennel and comes barrelling for the door, which I had the sense to close before hand. I unwrap the bird onto Cal's sun tanning bed and it kind of just stared at us for a second, tweeted, and flew away. 

I'm sure everyone has had a bird stuck in there house at some point, but up in an apartment building I really wasn't expecting it. At least Rocket passed out for awhile from the excitement. 

Oh, and I guess I should mention the fact that I was attacked by two angry red-winged black birds two days ago as I let the dogs out to pee. The female totally smacked me on the head. Attacked by birds one day and expected to save one the next? Someone is screwing with me

Epic Pee

Exhibit A

I not sure anyone actually believes me when I say Rocket pee's would make an elephant proud. Please, you non-believers, refer to exhibit A. Note the vinegar-water spray bottle and the roll of paper towels back by Callie's bed. That was the length of the pee. For real, it was a steady stream. You can't really see with the floors, but there is also a giant puddle near the corner of the couch, and he managed to get a decent sized puddle on Cal's bed as well. HE WAS JUST OUTSIDE. I took him for a nice long walk before it got too hot outside and this is the thanks I get? 

Off to the kennel with yee! 

I'm a sad little devil dog

It all started when we got home from the walk. We all ate our breakfasts. Everything was going rather fine. But Rocket was being super annoying. He tends to follow along behind me everywhere I go, so close that I generally trip over him. Our lives together are filled with the phrases "Rocket man, please go lie down in your bed." "All the way Rocket." "No that's Callie's bed, I said your bed." "No, actually lay down, I can see you!" "Good, now stay!" "I SAID STAY" "Rocket please just GO LIE DOWN" 

I was going through one of these delightful conversations but he was being extra bad. When he's not listening to my verbal commands, I'll generally walk with him to his bed so he gets the point. I started walking, he started doing these stupid circles around the kitchen and hallway like he suddenly had no idea how to walk in a straight line. I ended up just picking him up and putting him in his bed. "Stay" I told him. He stood up. "LAY DOWN!!" I said. He did so, but in the slowest way possible, one little doggie toe at a time. By now, I have a feeling he's just screwing with me. I'm better then that, I thought. I refused to let this tiny dog send me into a fit of rage. I was | | that close to locking him in his kennel, but he had this angelic expression on his face. I had finally broken him, I thought. He felt my frustration mounting and was giving up before I set him free into the wilderness of the big city. 

All went well for about three, maybe four minutes. I was cleaning up in the kitchen, thinking about how well things were going when BAM, I stepped on that damn dog again. At this point I was pretty close to what some may call enraged so I yelled in my toughest mean voice "GET IN YOUR (*#^&$ BED!!!" which set him running and me taking deep breaths. That was it, it was time for a doggie time out in the kennel. As I go to lock him up, I step in pee. Of course, some would be inclined to get more angry at this point. I'll admit to being hella-angry but I also felt bad. He's generally so good with his peeing when it's just me and I obviously scared the pee right out of him. I walked over, jumping over puddles here and there, didn't look at him, just locked his kennel door and got out the good old vinegar. 

He's cute, sometimes... 

I know he's a stubborn little terrier jerk face, but how many times must I:

1.) accidentally kick him or step on him

2.) accidentally open cupboard doors/dishwasher/closet into his face 

3.) tell him to go lay down, catch him getting up, and repeat over and over and over

..until he gets it? Maybe all the kicking and door opening has given him brain damage. I think I'm pretty darn consistent. I always follow through with my commands. He does listen, at least I think he attempts to listen. Like he'll go half way to his bed, or he'll sit in his bed for .56 seconds and hop out and come right back to being underfoot. 

Alas, I know he has his problems, but he is improving. Then he does cute things like this (I only managed to catch a few seconds, but he was doing it for quite a long time):

I actually caught Callie doing that on our bed last night. She didn't see me at first, but froze when I turned on the light. Caught in the act she did her apologetic hyper fit, where she runs around in circles, wiggling her butt, and jumping up to give kisses. Oh how I love that dog. 

All Moved In

What a dirty look! Sorry I interrupted your nap.. 

Boy, it's been a llllong week. We managed to get all moved in to the new place with little complications. I mean, sure we only managed to find two or three boxes to pack all our crap in and that was a hassle. Pack a box, move it to the new place, unpack a box, take box back to old place, and so on. Ugh!

But we're all moved in and the dogs are starting to adjust to their lives. Both dogs love the new balcony and Rocket loves the lower windows that he can actually stand and look out of. Each day around the hours of 10am-12pm you can find Callie tanning out on the balcony and Rocket sitting on Callie's giant bed in the sun. A doggy's dream!

I also managed to squeeze in a trip to visit a friend for her birthday! Brought the dogs along since Ryan would be working long hours and the car ride looked a bit like this:

She's actually trying to suffocate him so she gets more attention... 

The trip was fun! The birthday girl is also known as the mom of Cooper the Wonder Dog - remember him as the dog who managed to get Callie out of her shell our first night together. Cooper has a lovely sister, also a Golden, named Cara who is the biggest love bug in the entire world. Although Callie will always have that soft spot for Cooper, her and Cara get along ridiculously well. They could play all day long and it wouldn't be enough. Cara made a great impression on Rocket as well. He can be a little shy with big dogs at first but soon enough Cara was chasing Rocket around the house like her personal play thing. He didn't seem to mind at all. 

We have had some annoying issues during the move. Rocket started to have some pretty gnarly stools so I had the rescue take him to the vet. Impacted anal gland, yikes! Weird I didn't see more signs - I'm constantly on the look out with Callie since she gets occasional problems back there. A week of medication later and he seems to feel fine. 

And, the worst part of the move: Rocket started the whole peeing in the house thing again. Those annoyingly and surprisingly large pees that he manages to get EVERYWHERE. We really think it's an anxiety thing. He started as we began packing and it got worse in the new place. He is also much worse when we had visitors or if anything slightly exciting was happening. He also acts up more then Ryan's home rather then when it's just me (I think he can feel Ryan's frustration). He would pee all over the place then go right outside and pee a pee large enough to make a mastiff proud. That lead us to this:

I was never very good at crate training. It's really never appealed to me, and I felt terrible putting a dog in there. I mean I use them, don't get me wrong. When your taking new dogs into your home it's much easier to keep them contained when your not around rather then come home to all sorts of destruction. At least until you know them a bit better. But I still hate it, and I'll generally sacrifice a few chewed shoes for the sake of a dog getting a bit more free range. 

But our new apartment has a carpeted bedroom. A brand new carpet actually; when we came to see the place they were putting it in. And the frequency and sheer magnitude of this tiny dog's urination is quite impressive. The carpet would be no match for him.

The kennel has helped a lot. During the day when we're around he has no problem sitting in the kennel and with his bed in there he'll generally go curl up for a nap. At his worst points he was peeing every two hours. Now at the two hour mark, I can stick him in the kennel where at least if he has an accident it's contained. 

The kennel also helps at night. We need to shut him out of the bedroom and he hates that. Without the kennel he was scratching at the door like a maniac all night long. With the kennel he certainly whines like we're slowly torturing him, but he's not too loud, and a simple "Hey! Knock it off!" usually quiets him long enough to fall asleep. The problem is: he pees his bed every night!! I've tried putting down paper near the door to pee on, giving him chew toys or stuffed kongs, and I even feed him in there but he still pees evvvvery night. Maybe he just likes the smell of a freshly landered bed each day...