Joey is learning. I've been feeding him in the crate. I tell him to "go to your room" and wait until he goes into the crate before I give him his bowl. Then he eats in there (with the door open).
So now he knows what "go to your room" means, and even without any food or treats he will go right in there when I tell him to. (Although he doesn't yet understand - or care to understand - "stay." He will run in there, but always comes back out shortly when there's no food involved.)
But he'll get it eventually. That particular command makes me think of Jeanne - a pit we used to have. Here is a picture of her after a "Go to your room" command while a cat walks across the room in front of her. ;-))
Jeanne always had to be watched VERY carefully with cats, unlike my very first pit, Josie. Josie was confiscated by a rescue group I was working with at the time, CAAWS. She was tied to a post with a belt-length chain making it impossible for her to even move around. She had obviously had more than one litter, though it wasn't possible to tell just how many. She was an absolute skeleton covered in skin when they found her. No one thought she would survive, but because charges were being brought against her owner she was not euthanized immediately. CAAWS at that time did not place pits with the public, so as a board member, I took her when she was released from the vet. I'd never had a pit bull and didn't think it would be a permanent thing. But once I got to know her there was no way I would have ever let her go. She was absolutely the sweetest, kindest dog I have EVER had. Even after her horrendous life, she loved absolutely everyone and everything. Here she is with one of my cats sometime that first year.
Josie was AT LEAST 21 years old when she died! (And that's assuming she was only 2 when she was confiscated. She might have actually been even older!) I got her in late 1982 or early 1983. She died in 2002. I'll tell you what, pits are tough. When she was 15 or so she developed a tumor behind her left front leg. It eventually got so enormous that she had to walk almost sideways. You can kind of see it in this picture. The thing was the size of a small watermelon!
We were afraid at her age (about 18) to put her through the surgery to have it removed. But once it became so huge that she could barely walk around anymore, so we said, okay -- if she doesn't survive the surgery, at least she will have died peacefully. But in fact, she came through the surgery with flying colors and lived another 3 years after that!
This was taken a few months after the surgery. She looks pretty feeble in this picture, but in fact she got around just fine right up to the end. When Mark would work in the yard she would follow him around everywhere and sit next to him while he worked.
When Josie died it was like the end of an era for me. She shared so many changes in my life with me. As a matter of fact, for a lot of years there she was the ONLY constant in my life! She was a wonderful girl.
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