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April 11, 2014

Skippy, 10 Years at Crate Escape! April Stools and Happy Birthday, Ernie!

Skippy, Forever Puppy

Stephanie Hastings

Skippy was one of our very first dogs.  A cockapoo, he has an amazing personality; gentle, sweet and just plain fun! When Skippy started coming to daycare, he was such a joy, never causing any trouble, and super friendly to everyone he met. Ten years later he is still exactly the same. His remembers everyone, and jumps up and says hello, even when it has been considerable time since he has seen people. Skippy is truly a dog to celebrate, for our 10th Anniversary. We love you Skippy!

skippy love

Skippy, In His Own Words

‘My name is Skippy and I am a Cockapoo. I am 10 years old (double digits!!). I live with my two moms, Nancy and Maura, and with our big boy Sascha when he is home from college. I             miss him when he is gone and when he comes home I jump up and down and give him lots of kisses. We live down the street from Crate Too.

Here is my story: When I was only about 2 months old, I came to live with my Pop, Nancy’s brother Fred, in Brockton. My Pop is really nice and fun, but he didn’t really know how much work it would be to take care of a puppy. Also, he is a nurse and he works VERY long hours ALL night long. So right after I started living with him, my two moms said that they would take care of me during all those long days and days when he was working, which ended up to be almost half the time.

This is where Raining Cats and Dogs (now Crate  Escape too)  comes into my story.

My moms had been noticing this small, cute pet store with a very small doggy daycare that was coming to our neighborhood. They wished that they had a dog that they could send there. They watched through the windows as the walls were built, they saw the place getting painted, etc. AND THEN…. I started living with them some of the time! My moms both work very hard, and they needed a place for me to go during the day that would be safe and fun. So they met Stephanie and Bradley, and a beautiful friendship was formed! Pretty much as soon as Raining Cats and Dogs was ready to open, I was ready to hang out there. I am pretty sure I was one of the very
first “customers” (really, I think of myself as a part of the family), and they call me one of the “originals”.

Well, after a few years of going back and forth between my Pop’s house and my moms’ house, my Pop took his daughters on a long trip to Ireland, and I lived with my moms for that whole time. When my Pop came home from his trip, my moms just never gave me back to him!! Really, I think they all talked like people do and they decided that it was better for me to live with my moms full time, but my Pop comes to see me and I am always very happy when he comes over.

From the minute I started going to Raining Cats and Dogs (even though I never saw any cats there, so maybe that’s why they changed their name), I LOVED it. Every person I have ever met there has been really nice and really fun. They have so many dogs to get to know and they seem to know what makes each one of us happy and comfortable. All of my doggie friends there are great too. I guess you could say I really grew up there, and everyone who has worked there has helped to raise me and has helped me to become the really sweet and happy dog that everyone says
that I am. In fact, no one can ever believe that I am 10 years old. When people see me they always ask one of my moms, “How old is your puppy?”. I think that is because going to Crate all my life has kept me young!! I get lots of exercise, learn how to get along with all different kinds of people and dogs, and learn how to be independent and have fun even when I am not with my family, who I love the best of family at all.

For my whole life up to right now, Raining Cats and Dogs/Crate Too has been like home to me. One thing my moms want me to say is that every time something unexpected happens in our lives, Crate is there to help us out and to make sure I have a good place to be while the people are doing whatever busy things they need to be doing. They also want me to say that they truly NEVER worry about me when I am there, because they know that I will be so well taken care of. I don’t know if Stephanie knew how much I would write when she asked me to write something for the Crate blog, but I really could go on and on. Crate is the best thing in my life, next to my family, and I wish all doggies could be lucky enough to spend time there. I even wish my guinea pig brother Charlie could go there with me!’

April Stools Month!

As you probably know, Crate Escape is celebrating our 10th anniversary year with a ‘special’ each month.  This month is about cleaning up after your dog.  We are offering 2 boxes of earthborn poop bags for $10/ usually $7 each  (see blogroll on right hand side).  We are also partnering with som|dog and doing clean up (s) of parks and public, dog friendly areas.  On April 26th,  we are getting together to pick up at a dog park in Somerville (more details to follow). We have painted fake stools and will place them around the clean up area; find one and you will win a prize! Thus, April Stools!

Dogster Magazine shared their opinions in the article below.

Do You EVER Get Used to Picking Up Dog Poop?

Lauren Zimmer, Brooklyn, NY

“You often have to carry a bag of hot poop for many long minutes while running into every attractive opposite-sex acquaintance you have.”

Dogster  |  Apr 4th 2014  |

At the neighborhood dog park the other day, one of the other regulars noticed something about me that made him laugh: “You make a face every time you have to pick up dog poop.”

No way that could be true, I thought. I’ve been a dog owner for eight years. But sure enough, when I next had to pick up after my dog Pelle, I caught myself involuntarily grimacing. To be honest, I’ve never gotten used to one of the most fundamental and grossest parts of dog walking: poop.

If only dogs would use toilets — and flush them afterwards. 

I’m sure I don’t have to describe it to you, the ritual involved in this most tedious of pastimes: Your dog goes to the bathroom. You fish around your pocket or your purse for one of your plastic poop bags. Most of the time, you find one. If you’re on the street, you merely steel yourself, hope it’s not too warm and the bag doesn’t break, and throw the poo in the nearest garbage can. (If you’re in Brooklyn, like I am, you might find the nearest garbage can is several blocks away, which means that you often have to carry a bag of hot poop for many long minutes while running into every attractive opposite-sex acquaintance you have.)

If you’re at the park and your dog scampers off before you can mark where he relieved himself, you get the added bonus of having to find your dog’s waste somewhere inside a few hundred square feet of wet wood chips, dirt, and other, forgotten dog poop. This is a fun test: Do you find the poop by making a mental grid and visually scanning every virtual box until you find your disgusting goal? Can you spot the poop by watching where the flies gravitate? Can you close your eyes and smell your way toward the scent that’s more familiar than you’d ever want to admit? If you can, congratulations. You are accomplished in ways I’m sure you’re never imagined before you owned a dog.

 

Photo by Parker Yo

Worse still is when Pelle poops and I’ve run out of bags. In a public place like my neighborhood, this is a bona fide disaster. There’s no hiding. Sometimes I quickly run to a corner bodega, pulling Pelle all the way, to ask for an unused plastic bag. If I’m on a stretch of street with no businesses whatsoever, I can get lucky in one of two ways: A fellow dog owner comes by, notices my distress, and offers me an extra baggie; or I find a plastic bag that used to contain someone’s Chinese food lunch but is now serendipitously empty and lying on the ground. Yes, this is the height of luck, this old, dirty bag.
Here are some things I’ve used when I can’t find a bag and have to rifle through my purse:  An especially long grocery store receipt. A pay stub (sorry, meticulous record-keeping). A wedding invitation (sorry, Paul and Cindy). I’ve ripped corners off of cardboard boxes in construction sites.

My friend Caroline confessed that in a similar situation, she cut the top off an old plastic bottle she found with her pocket knife and used it as a scooper, much to the revulsion of some nearby children. All of this is better than just leaving the poop in the street — which is rude and of course carries a large fine — but only marginally better. It can take me several hours to recover from having to carry a turd sandwiched between two torn cardboard box tabs from one neighborhood to the next while searching for a public trash can.

A wuss, you call me? Prissy, princessy, and overreacting? Hey, you don’t have to tell me. There’s nothing I’d like more than to pick up Pelle’s butt presents with the sangfroid I’ve seen in other owners. At least I love the dog and the neighborhood’s dignity enough to overcome it. But I often wonder if some of those other owners have never gotten used to it either and are only better at suppressing their “Oh, gross” face. Have you?

 

Ernestine, The Birthday Girl!

ERNIECHILL - Edited

 

Can you tell I like this picture?

This is my birthday week,  I will be 12! Skippy and I hung out together 10 years ago when Crate Escape first opened! It has been an amazing  journey and I thank you for being part of it!

Later, Ernestine

 

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