Don't Fence Me In

It should've been a small change, a matter of assembling a playpen for the little daschund to ( I so hoped ) accommodate his hatred of the wire kennel.  But once it was together, it was apparent that I'd not given quite enough thought to the issue of space and that some rearranging would be called for.  I looked around ruefully, wondering what magic ( other than a new house ) I would have to pull off to make it all work and it was well into the very early hours of the next day before I finished.  The end product is less than ideal but I think it might be workable - the dog's cooperation is, as yet, undetermined.

I've always been troubled by the sight of animals in cages and I dislike confining my dogs - it reassures me no end that the two older ones have adapted so well, they come in from outside each morning and each noon and go directly to the kennels (the black dog has even learned how to open her's) and jump right in, waiting patiently for a "Good Dog!" and a biscuit.  I'd hoped that the little daschund would see this and follow suit but it was not to be - he scurries for the bedroom and darts beneath the bed or refuses to come in at all when he knows I'm leaving - so that twice a day, five days a week, my heart hurts and I feel like a cold hearted and evil executioner.  The new enclosure is a topless series of plastic panels that hook together and give him more space than he could possibly need - I've added a new, plush dogbed and a water bowl and his favorite pillow. Hope springs eternal.