Sigh.
If Puppy Dog is a Velociraptor, Puppy Girl is Houdini.
When we went for weekend to the Best Ripoff Hotel in the West, she stayed with our good friends, Will and Kathy - Theo, Tara and Tasha's parents.
Tasha is Puppy Girl's cousin, and only fractionally older than her, so Will and Kathy are also living in the midst of puppy madness and kindly agreed to help us out (we arranged to go to Ripoff Hotel long before I got Puppy-itis and managed to melt Fluffy Bear's heart).
While Puppy Girl was staying with Will and Kathy, she got out of her crate not once, but twice. Kathy came into the kitchen to find Puppy Girl in front of Tasha's crate, mocking her.
"I got out! HA HA! You're still stuck in your crate! HA HA! I can run around and play! HA HA!"
Needless to say, Tasha was pissed.
Much barking going on.
So at least I was pre-warned.
I've been careful to make sure the crate is really closed when she's in there, I check on her every five to ten minutes when she and Puppy Dog are playing (outside or inside).
But I'm human, and I have to go to the bathroom.
So I don't know when exactly the dogs came inside. I don't know how the front door got opened. I also don't know how Puppy Girl managed to break the screen on the screen door.
What I do know is that, when I came out of the bathroom, Puppy Dog was quivering, looking up at me, very concerned. I followed him through the dining room and living room and there she was, at the front door, outside the screen, paws on the lower part of the screen door (which is metal and about 10 inches high), head sticking through the broken square of screen, completely confused as to how she could get back into the house.
I wish I could download that mental picture for you, and the feeling of panic that followed hot on its heels.
But I knew I couldn't yell or make any sudden movements, or she might turn around, run outside, down the steep bank in front of our house (we have no fencing around the front yard), out onto the sidewalk, the road, and God knows where after that.
So I made placating noises and reached through the screen to pull her back in, sighing with relief.
I know Fluffy Bear will laugh when I tell him.
It may not have been funny to live, but at least it will be one of those stories that's funny to tell.
Oy vey...
To read more in the Doggy Mama series, click here.