Dogs are tricksters. Ours is a very good trickster.

A perk to living so close to work is that I can meet REB at home for lunch. It also means I get to see the dog and he can TCB outside. If he does his business, we just leave him out (block off the kitchen and close all the doors) so he’s not cramped in his crate all day. I know I’d hate that.

Whenever we’ve come home, we see Gryff in his crate and kind of laugh because really…if you could be out of your crate all day, why would you go back into it? I know his crate is a sense of security for him, but still.

Yeah, we were naive and wrong.

We had our suspicions that maybe he was out of his crate, but would run into it when he’d hear us coming in the door.

And that would be correct.

I came home today and peeked my head into our window (like a creepster) and I could see Gryff laying on the ground next to the coffee table chewing on a toy we left out for him. I turned my key into the door and looked in the window and saw him rush into his crate. So when I came in, I see him in his crate and he yawns and stretches like he’d been in there alllllll day.

Trickster. He’s not fooling anyone anymore.

“Wait..wha-?? You’re home…? I’m soooo tired. I was in here in the whoooole time.”

“….I can’t even keep my eyes open. I’ve been sleeping the whole time.”

Yeah…right.

Oh good. You’re awake. Now come say hi to me like a good dog and stop pretending you’re an angel…

Or…mmk. You’re going back to sleep. Great.

Oh, so REB is home and you get excited for that.

…Which he did. He was all about coming out of the crate, doing a ridiculously long stretch as if he’d been in there forever, and greeting the alpha male.

Sigh. He continues to amaze me. The little pooper.