I saw a dog on YouTube fit in a shoebox—so naturally I tried too.
Bite-Sized Adventures, Big-Dog Mistakes: Why That Box Was Never Meant for Me
You know those Instagram reels where cats magically slink into the smallest containers like liquid fluff? Well, I watched about seven of them before I made a terrible decision. Let’s just say, if you’re built like a tank with a tail, you probably shouldn’t attempt stealth-mode box maneuvers. But does that stop me? Never.
The Setup (a.k.a The Cardboard Conspiracy)
It all started when the delivery box from “that place where hoomans buy everything” arrived. You know the one. Big swoosh, big fuss, smells like seventeen other homes. My hooman tossed it aside while unboxing her fiendishly boring socks, which is when I spotted it: the perfect little fortress. Two hooman-shoe lengths wide. Slightly smaller than my butt. Practically screaming for a Rottie invasion.
This wasn’t my first questionable entry into tight spaces. I’ve curled inside laundry baskets, wedged under tables mid-thunderstorm, and once tried to nap in a leftover salad bowl (don’t ask). But there was something magical about this box. It didn’t just look good—it looked like destiny.
“They said I couldn’t fit. My ego barked louder than reason.” — Thor the Overconfident
Box 1. Thor 0. Dignity... Also 0.
I started with the classic paw test—tap the edge, sniff, assess strength. Seemed solid. I stepped in with one paw, then two. Halfway through, my back legs were tensed like coiled sausages and… WHAM. We went vertical. Box collapsed. I panicked-scooted backwards, which jammed my tail. Then fell sideways like a sack of drool.
The hooman? She laughed so hard she dropped her tea. Me? I gave her the eyes. The “don’t record this or you sleep without me” eyes. She tried to pick me up. I refused all help, as anyone with pride and four paws would. I flopped nearby and sulked for a full twenty minutes. But only out of principle.
What This Taught Me (Kind Of)
Alright, so the box broke, my tail got folded like a hosepipe, and yes—there are photos. But here’s the chewy treat of it all:
- Just because it fits in theory, doesn’t mean it suits your natural Rottie bigness.
- Hooman packaging is not “dog tested”—unless you're into tight hugs from cardboard.
- And most importantly… some missions are worth failing for the story alone.
Dogs like me? We’ve got a bit of ego, a lot of muscle, and very little patience for physics. But you hoomans? You do this too. You cram your lives with things that don’t fit—schedules, friendships, sofas in hatchbacks. And sometimes, it flops spectacularly. Just like my box incident. But don’t worry. You’re not broken. Neither was I (just my pride).
The Shift That Changed How I Nap Forever
Since then, I’ve upgraded to nap spots that match my size and style—a dent in the couch, a shady patch under the ute, a bed made for a real dog (not your fluffed-up decorative ones). I stopped trying to fit in things that shrink me. And hoomans? Maybe you should too.
If it crushes your tail, twists your vibe, or needs duct tape to work—ditch it.
Life’s too short for small boxes, hoomans. Leave the cramming to cats.
Stay waggy,
Thor 🐾
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