For the first night, I tried to secure Morgan in the dining room to separate her and Livie when I wasn’t watching them. Tried. I closed off the two doorway openings with two and a half feet tall baby gates. Inside the room I had a large crate set up and cozy bedding inside the crate and in another corner. I took the pups outside and then put Morgan in the dining room. She had her soft cone on for the night so she would leave her incision alone while unsupervised (this is when I thought I would be sleeping!). I petted her for a bit and then left to go upstairs to bed.
Within minutes, I heard a scuffle, then a crash. I quickly went downstairs where Morgan greeted me happily, tail wagging a million miles a minute. She had knocked over one of the gates. I reassured her and locked the gate with a bit more pressure than I had previously used. She was a strong, energetic dog for an 11 year old who had just had surgery!
Within minutes, I heard a scuffle and then a thud. I rushed back downstairs to again find Morgan wagging and waiting for me at the bottom. The gate was intact, however. Had she jumped it? Climbed it? Regardless, I knew that I would have to crate her if I wanted to keep her confined overnight. I would need to use a confinement method when I left the house the following day to take the kids to school anyways, and I was happy to have figured out that the baby gates were not a solution for Morgan while I was home. I crated Morgan, encouraging her with a treat, and then went back upstairs.
The sound was heart wrenching. Morgan was so sad to have been more securely separated from the family. She whined, then barked, then howled, then whined some more. My husband shifted around restlessly in bed. He had been so supportive of my desire to foster animals and enthusiastically said yes when I asked about bringing Morgan home in particular, that the last thing I wanted was for his sleep to be disrupted. Then my daughter walked sleepily out of her room. “Mom, what’s wrong with Morgan?” I knew I had to change the set up once again.
Now, an hour after my usual bedtime, I went downstairs for a third time with a pillow and blanket, let Morgan out of the crate and walked with her to the couch and curled up together. She, for one, slept great, head tipped back, soft snoring at last.