He completely destroyed it, the ungrateful jerkwad.
He also destroyed two doorframes and ripped the carpet off the basement stairs.
(Someone please adopt this wonderful charming amazing creature I beg of you.)
His heartworm treatment dictates that he MUST stay calm and not exert himself in any way (because otherwise the dead worms will break into pieces and you know what you can just Google why if you want), so we have to keep him isolated from all the other wild and crazy animals a lot of the time since they whip each other into a crazy pack frenzy.*
But Jake haaaaaates being crated, so for a little while we let him just lounge around in the basement, and everything was fine. But at some point he lost interest in the plethora of toys and chews and Kongs we leave for him, and started going full destructor mode on stuff like, books! Pillows! Paper! Anything he can pull out of the trash can! THE VERY WALLS AND FLOORS AROUND HIM.
So fine, back into the crate he went, along with designated toys and blankets he's welcome to rip to shreds, but where's the fun in that?
Funny semi-related story: Last week, we started hearing a very annoying dog barking every night, right around bedtime. I thought maybe our next-door neighbors got a puppy and were crating it in the room closest to our house.. Then I thought no, that barking sounds like it's coming from directly outside, but after opening the window it sounded further away, like somebody's dog barking on their back porch. Take your dog inside, asshole! It's freezing out there! Then I got worried that maybe it was a lost dog running around loose, so I ran outside in my pajamas to look for it. I couldn't hear the barking at all outside, but back in our bedroom it started up again.
Jake. It was Jake. The barking was coming from inside the house, from the basement, all the way up to our bedroom via the heating vents. WOOF WOOF I HATE CRATE I HATE CRATE RUFF RUFF, every night, until he barks himself to sleep.
Or gets a mouth full of memory foam, apparently.
*I do crate Beau and Poppy for chunks of the day to give Jake a chance for some nice quite couch time upstairs with me. Those two are both quite happy in their crates, though Poppy has also lost the rights to a proper mattress after eating two of them. (Now three, because I gave her Jake's old bed and she has indeed taken dainty nibbles out of every corner.)
Anyway! Here is some top-quality non-dog content for you, in which Ezra attempts to teach Ike how to bowl and bat at cricket, right before the intoxicating rhythm and vocal stylings of Ariana Grande take over their little white boy bodies.