Saturday, October 03, 2009

How I got locked out of my house in my pajamas.

So, this afternoon, while the husband and child were off at some sporting event, I was working on my newest hobby, making cheese*&**, when I looked out the kitchen window to see the neighbor's scroungy little mutt ambling across my yard.

We have lots of stray-ish dogs in my neighborhood and they all seem to find their way over to our house - I'm fine with that, always willing to hang out with the pups and/or spare a dog biscuit***- but this dog is a little fucker - always getting loose, always barking at leashed dogs, and always in a grumpy mood - seriously, this little thing won't let anyone get close to it, but he has decided that our front yard is the perfect toilet.

Now, I'd mention to the neighbor/owner that the dog is always stray and always crapping in my yard, but that house is home to 3-4 families, none of whom seem to speak English and I can't be arsed to learn how to say "keep your dog and his feces in your own yard" in Spanish, so there is that.

I see the little furball sniffing around the yard, looking for a place to crouch and I toss down my cheese press, race to the door and run outside, ignoring the fact that I'm wearing pajamas**** and my hair is still wet from a shower.

"Get off my lawn," I yell at the little dog who barks at me and steps off the grass onto the street.

I turn to go back into the house and the dog trots back onto my lawn. By this time, my dogs can hear the dogs collar jangling, so they're getting all "OMG-SOMEONE-IS-ON-OUR-PROPERTY!!!!!"

"Go home, you're not going to shit here today!" I yell at the little fucker.

He runs in the general direction of his house, stops, looks back to see if I'm still watching, runs over to my mailbox, raises his leg and pees.

"Go!" I holler at him..

He takes off across the street and I, satisfied that he's gone, turn around to go back and work on my cheese some more.

Except that the door is locked.

How is the deadbolt locked? I'm the only one home and I certainly didn't bring my keys out with me.

I hear my dog jumping up on the door again and realize that he must be the exact right height to have hit the deadbolt and turned it far enough to lock it.

Awesome.

Briefly, I ponder how long it would take for me to train him to jump up again, hit the other side of the lock and unlock the door for me. Keeping in mind, of course, that I'm wearing pink and orange striped pajama bottoms (with a hole in the butt) and a baggy Brontosaurus t-shirt.

Then I remember that, unless the cat has locked it, the back door is always unlocked.

Crisis averted.

But still.

My. Dog. Locked. Me. Out. Of. The. House.



*yes, making cheese. Yes, I'm pretty much Amish now

** I've mastered mozzarella and my first round of Muenster will be ready in about a week - jealous? I know

*** and in the case of Spencer, the soaking wet Golden Retriever, spend an afternoon tracking down his family only to have them not know that he was even missing

**** yes, I was wearing my pajamas at 4PM on a Saturday afternoon. Because my life is wildly exciting

Labels: suzy fucking homemaker