How to Crate Train a Stubborn Small Dog (Georgie’s Full Journey)

Last Tuesday Georgie ate my sock and acted like I’d wronged him when I took it back. He gave me this look, you know the one, where he squints his eyes like he’s seen some things and I’m just an amateur. It’s the same look he gives me when I try to put him in his crate, except then it’s usually accompanied by the world’s most pathetic whimper. Seriously, you’d think I was sending him to the gallows, not to a cozy bed with a treat inside. So, you asked about crate training. Buckle up, buttercup, because Georgie is a Morkie who thinks he’s a dire wolf, and he fought us every single step of the way.

The Early Days: Denial and Failed Bribery

Okay, so when we first got Georgie, we figured crate training would be easy. He’s tiny, right? How much fuss could a 5lb furball make? Spoiler alert: a lot. We bought him one of those basic wire crates, the Frisco Fold & Carry Double-Door Dog Crate, small size for about $35 on Chewy. Seemed standard. We threw in a soft blanket and some treats, thinking he’d just… walk in. Lol. No. Georgie would sniff the treat, look at the crate like it was a trap designed by his arch-nemesis, Teddy (who, by the way, would happily dive into any dark hole if it meant getting a toy), and then back away slowly. If I gently nudged him towards it, he’d flatten himself to the floor like a pancake and slide away. He just refused to go in. Refused to even consider it. We tried the classic method of feeding him near the crate, then inside the crate. He’d eat his food outside the crate, then look at the food inside like it was poisoned. We left the door open all day. He’d walk *around* it, never through it. Total failure.

Finding the Right Crate (Because Apparently Georgie Has Opinions)

After a week of Georgie treating the wire crate like it was the portal to another dimension, I started to wonder if it was the crate itself. He’s a sensitive soul, you know? He gets upset if his brother Teddy even *looks* at his favorite squeaky hedgehog. The open wire concept seemed to make him feel exposed. So, I went searching for something more den-like. I ended up getting the MidWest Homes for Pets iCrate, 22-inch model, for around $40 on Amazon. This one came with a divider, which was super useful because even a tiny dog can feel overwhelmed in a big space. But the real game-changer was the crate cover. I splurged on the Pecute Waterproof Dog Crate Cover, $25 on Amazon. This thing is a godsend. It transformed the wire crate into a cozy, dark den. Suddenly, Georgie was a little less wary. He still wasn’t *enthusiastic*, but he was no longer acting like I was trying to sacrifice him to the crate gods. The cover made him feel safe and enclosed, which for a tiny dog who thinks he’s tough but is actually terrified of everything bigger than a dust bunny, was crucial.

Positive Reinforcement (and a Lot of Peanut Butter)

Once we had the den situation sorted, we restarted with positive reinforcement. This time, instead of just tossing treats in, I used a high-value reward: peanut butter. Not a ton, just a tiny smear on a spoon. I’d sit by the crate, open the door, and let him lick the spoon. Then, I’d put the spoon just inside the crate, so he had to put his head in to get it. Gradually, I moved the spoon further back, encouraging him to take a step in, then two. The second he took a step, I’d praise him like he’d just cured cancer. “GOOD BOY, GEORGIE! YES! SUCH A BRAVE WOLFY BOY!” He lives for praise, that dog. He’d puff out his chest and look around like, “Yeah, I’m a big deal.”

We did this for a few days, just getting him comfortable with going in and out. Never closed the door. Never forced it. It was all about making the crate the best place on earth. I also started putting his favorite chew toy, a Kong Classic Dog Toy, small, around $10 on Chewy, stuffed with a little peanut butter or cream cheese, inside the crate. He’d go in to get it, settle down to chew, and sometimes even fall asleep. This was huge. He was choosing to be in there!

The Door Closed: The Whimpering Begins

Once he was happily going in for his Kong, I started closing the door for just a few seconds while he was distracted, then opening it again immediately. The first time I closed it, he stopped chewing, looked at me with those judgmental little eyes, and let out a tiny, high-pitched whimper. It broke my heart. But I knew I couldn’t give in. Giving in reinforces the idea that whimpering gets him out. So, I waited until he stopped, even for a second, then opened the door and praised him. It was excruciatingly slow. Gradually, I extended the time the door was closed: 10 seconds, 30 seconds, a minute. Always waiting for a lull in the protests before opening it. He has this dramatic flare, you know? He thinks he’s the star of a tragic opera. His whimpers sound like he’s recounting all the injustices of his life.

We worked our way up to 15-20 minutes with the door closed while I was still in the room. Then I started leaving the room for short periods, first just to the next room, then out of sight. The rule was always: never let him out if he’s actively whining or barking. Wait for a quiet moment. It took immense patience, and there were definitely times I wanted to throw in the towel and just let him be a free-range wolf. But consistency is key.

Overnight and Longer Stays

For overnight, we put the crate right next to our bed. He could still smell and hear us, which helped a lot. We made sure he had his last potty break right before bed, and then into the crate he went with a small treat. The first few nights were rough. He’d whimper on and off. I’d reach down and put my fingers through the wire just to reassure him, without talking. Talking often revs them up more. Just a silent presence. Eventually, the whimpers turned into snores. It took about two weeks of consistent overnight training before he was sleeping through the night without a peep. Now, he even goes into his crate on his own when it’s bedtime, occasionally giving me a look like, “Are you coming or what?”

For longer stays during the day, like when we had to go out for a few hours, we made sure he had his potty break, then a stuffed Kong, and plenty of mental stimulation before we left. He learned that the crate meant quiet time, a delicious snack, and then we’d be back. It wasn’t instant, and there were setbacks – especially if Teddy, the little goblin, stole one of his crate toys before he could get in there. But we kept at it.

Honestly, if you’re going through this, just buy the crate cover and a big jar of peanut butter.

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