Stop to Smell the Roses…

…Even if they are just weeds.

I don’t believe in crating dogs.
There. I said it. I know this is a controversial topic, I know people believe in crating like it is the foremost tool in the life of dogs, but I do not. YES, I understand it as training tool, and for comfort on occasion, but I do not think an animal belongs in a crate, long term.
I don’t have a problem with people who crate responsibly, I have a problem with people who crate to avoid responsibility.

There are many reasons I do not like leaving a dog in a crate. I think of all sort of scenarios, like if you are not home, and there is a fire, if your dog in a room it has a fighting chance at survival or at least a more pain-free death rather than being trapped in metal box that will heat up all around them. I think about these sort of things and how to avoid them because I feel it is my responsibility as a pet care-taker to think of all the situations (and feelings) of the animals I share my space with and consider them as if I was in that animal’s position.
(Dogs are smart, they like to learn. They can be taught how you want them to behave, without a crate… and what’s wrong with giving them a room in the house to stay in when you are gone? I don’t know… be crazy, throw some toys around, leave the TV on…)

There are a few other reasons I don’t like crate and every reason is because of humans, and the utter lack of thought that some humans put into lives that are not their own.

(I should warn you know, this is a personal topic with me, and I have strong opinions about it this post may be a long one… but I promise it will include a beautiful dog at the end…)

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Dead Cats, Pennslyvania and Astabula….

…And the last of the summer rain.

Head tilted back, turned toward a dark sky,
eyes closed…
I feel warm air and cool water
droplets on my skin.

In the distance I hear
sirens,
and soft foreign voices,
and I sense a tightness.

I can’t relax…

…A distinct feeling
of a wind-up toy
wound fully but
with the key held;
bound, ready to let go
yet directionless.

My eyes are glowing green,
like the times I’ve put in contacts
to make my eyes unbelievable
but I am not
wearing any…
…just a symptom,
a tell tale of
Heterochromia Iridum
and other things
I could not control.

Beautiful and sad
and freedom found
on lonely turnpikes
as seasons change
and lives pass, time
faded
autumn ready
to say good-night
in morning fog;
looking for reason
on roadmaps
to any place
that isn’t “home”.

…And, by way of explanation (at least a little bit)…
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