On motherhood

Since I moved, I've been crating my dog. She's an old lady now, and her bladder control isn't what it used to be, to say the least. And now that I have the space for it, I've set her up a crate for an enormous dog--by this I mean a crate for a dog at least my size, because I can crawl into it easily--with her pillow in the rear half of the box and a puppy pad in the front half, so that if she does have to go, she can go in a place where neither of us has to get upset about it.

It's been a month and a half in this house, and we've made progress, from my having to pick her up and put her in the crate myself, to my leading her in by the collar, to my saying okay it's time to go in your box and following her into the sunroom. And now, this week, I wake up and take her outside and she eats her breakfast and then goes and lies quietly in the box while I take a shower.

This is what's supposed to happen, I know. But it's still amazing me. I go look for her when it's time for work and she's in her box, sleeping with the door open, and I feel like doing a little victory dance, and at the same time pulling her back out and smothering her with pets and apologies.

:::

Also: Have you seen my Stephen Hawking box set? I haven't seen it since I moved, and I can't think what I did with it, and it's driving me crazy.