Spriggan is stuck under the couch again.
This is the fourth time in 3 days. I’m not sure what’s so appealing about going under there; she hasn’t lost any toys under there or anything. But I’ll catch her sneaking wistful glances floorward, and I’ll say, “Not a good idea, Spriggan. You’re too big to fit under there now. It’s not like it was when you were a puppy.” And she’ll avoid it for the time…
But then I’ll not be paying attention and she’ll scramble under there. I’ll know she’s done it, because all of a sudden I’ll hear little low growls coming from the couch. “Mmm. Rrrr. Mmrrr.”
I poke my head under and see her, looking like Alice post-‘Drink Me’, with her head squished between ‘ceiling’ and floor, arms stretched out like Superman, and an expression of befuddlement and a sort of rage reserved for bad situations that are all our own faults.
But if I reach in to save her, she shrinks back, like she can DO IT HER. SELF. So I try to attract her with a toy or rope, half-thinking I could drag her out with it if she’d latch on. She’ll manage to slither forward a little ’til her head’s almost out from under the couch, but she doesn’t come any further out. Eventually, I’ll reach around her, roll her onto her side, and wiggle her out. She just runs off like nothing happened.
I guess it’s the burrowing instinct?