I spelled gate wrong... but it's a long way from the bedroom down the hall, down the stairs, back under the bedroom out the kitchen door onto the breezeway in this old rambling house.
Thank God for our weird morning routine. (Here it is in my Alone With the Dogs entry.) This morning I came down to the kitchen with the first group, including Very Old Dog, Maria, Fat Charlie and Mama Pajama. They're combined ages equal forty-five years. I opened the door to let them out and instead of heading left to the potty area, they headed right to the yard. It was 6:23, and I am anything but a morning person, but I can tell the difference between right and left, even before coffee. I had baby-gated the breezeway entrance to the yard before bed, so I waited for them to do an about turn and go left. Only they didn't.
Huh, I thought.
Huh.
So I stepped out on the breezeway and looked to the right. This is what I saw:
My very worst fear.
Someone had opened our gate during the night. I don't know when I realized that my bicycle had been stolen off the breezeway, but Maria and Mama Pajama were on the grass outside of the fence. Peeing. (Thank God also for old bladders.) Mama Pajama was scanning for all she was worth for Stupid City Squirrels in the oak tree across the street. Very Old Dog only made it just to the grass on the left, and Fat Charlie, bless him, either didn't notice that the gate was actually open, or the dear sweet good soul just knew he was not supposed to go out that gate without his lead on.
I ran out (in my tee shirt and undies, I might add) and called the girls. They were still peeing; Mama Pajama was still scanning. As I reached the sidewalk outside of the fence, oh relief thy name is good dogs, they came to me. I swear I could feel the panic drip off me like ice cream from a two-year-old's cone in August when there's not a napkin in sight.
Safely back inside the yard, I thanked my four sterling seniors for all I was worth. I sat on the ground and I blessed them. You are the best dogs in the world. Then one car that drove by honked, and I instinctually waved and in the process I remembered about being in my undies.
What oh what if I let all nine of them out at once? The thought of the consequences literally sickens me. They would have zoomed out that gate one following the next, the young 'uns rendered totally unmindful of any potty needs, would have scattered like turkeys at Thanksgiving, looking for squirrels and the evil kitties that tease them constantly, just outside their fence. They are reliable, if a person is going through their gate and they do not have their leads on, they will not go through. But a wide open gate in predawn haze with squirrel-o-rama going on? Oh my soul I just hate to think.
I will miss my bike, but I've always been terrified that someone would open our gate. And it happened. I went to the hardware store this morning to find some sort of locking system. I'm not ever going to see that nightmare again. And don't think for a moment I don't realize how lucky I am.
Good, good, good girls!
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And for all the lovely comments left on The Smile Maker:
Hug your hounds!
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