Sunday, 20 August 2017

Escapologist.

Dog is locked back in after her wee adventure this morning. 


Dog had settled into her confinement well, or so I thought.

Yeh she cried a bit last night, but I talked her down and she popped off to sleep, or so I thought.

We went out for a wee walk, - not productive, bugger! and she had a lovely big drink on her way back to bed, and she settled there with her nanna blanky over her cos it's delightfully chilly here this morning, and I went about the usual AM kitchen shit and left her to her slumber, or so I thought.

I washed up and clean up a little and heard a bit of noise upstairs and figured Stevie was up and at 'em. But when I turned around, there was just a pile of blanket where Dog aught to be. From a distance you might think she had burrowed in to make a little cocoon of warm air to hide in, but on closer inspection she was bloody gone! Like those movies where the kid escapes out the window but tucks shit under the bed clothes so that the parentals see a lump and think all is well.

She couldn't have gone far. All the outside doors were closed and she is only 3 days into a long recovery after getting a new knee, so I know she's not running a marathon, and whilst I call this place The Big House, there just aren't that many place for a dog to hide. So I called her and wandered around looking.

Garage - NO
Studio - No
Store room - No
Bathroom - No No
Office - No
Laundry - No

Bugger

Then I recalled the funny noise from before and ran upstairs. Well OK, for full and honest disclosure I huffed and puffed my way upstairs, and bugger me, there she was in all her broken glory lying in the sunshine checking out the comings and going of people and dogs in her park.

Panic set in quickly.

The only thing the vet had been very strict about was NO STAIRS. Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck. There's a big old failure! FUCK.

Typically she takes up her position and when she sees a dog she knows who she knows will be any minute now, walking by the front gate, well she ups and scampers down the stairs, sometimes taking 'em 2 or 3 at a time and sometimes she skids down 'em on her arse, like in the cartoons and she runs like a maniac to say hello, or more often to bark like a deranged fierce maniac.

FUCK.

So I woke Stevie up - Not Happy Jan, and he had to get up and carry her down the stairs and now she is in the playpen but I have put the gates back in so she will need to high jump it to get out.

That won't surprise me.

Now I am gonna have to work out how to keep her off the stairs. To The Barricade!