Dorian loves the sun. Loves it. If he could love it anymore, he would have his beardie minions begin work on building his Temple of Ra or Pantheon to Apollo tomorrow. Trouble is, we like have Dorian safe and sound. So ever once in a while, we dig out the outdoor enclosure we have for him, and let him soak up rays like skinny Spanish señorita in Ibiza. Now, he doesn’t need the barely there thong or the Anna Wintour-inspired bug-eye sunglasses, but he does need a little shade we he starts to get a lil’ warm. We converted a dog kennel we bought for Gobo when we were in between tanks for her. After I moved from DeKalb to Urbana in May of 2011, we built Gobo a new tank. While her new enclosure was being finished, she stayed in an old bird cage temporarily. After the new enclosure made her sick and caused encephalitis to attack her brain causing seizures, we moved her into this collapsible kennel in the short term until we could resolve her husbandry issues. It took quite a while, and I’m glad we had this kennel. I was away studying in Ireland when the worst of the medical issues occurred good, the wife had to bear the brunt of her care during this time, but Gobo and her relationship strengthened as Gobo learned to trust Mom more, so something good came out of it after all. Dorian would stay in the outdoor tank for hours if we let him. Usually 30-40 minutes is all we do, depending on how hot or what time it is. It’s been a scorcher of a summer and we’re only 5 day into June! After the designated period, we’ll pull Dorian from his enclosure of and the walk around the backyard with him, letting him take in the sights and sounds from the comfort of Mom or Dad’s chest and shoulder. If we’re feeling frisky, we may even let him sit in the grass for a minute while keeping an eye out for an iggy sprint or an attempt to dine on the yard’s fine selections of grass and the occasional weed. Caliban on the other is never, and I mean never going to be allowed to sit in the grass. I’m not if either of us is fast enough to catch her when she bolts for it, and I do know she would run away faster than teenage dad from a paternity test on Maury Povich. When we put Irwin outside in the grass, he flared his mouth, flattened out all puffed up like a spiky miniature whoopee cushion, and the took off like bottle rocket. The wife stood frozen in shock and concern, and I took two giant steps and caught before he got himself in more trouble. He was still all puffed up and pissy when I picked him up. Poor little guy’s heart was racing a mile a minute too. Here we thought he’d like it as much as Ulee, who scrunched a lil, but still had fun. You can be sure that Dorian will always have a place to catch some rays in the future.