White Dog said, "You left us ALL evening and gave him a challenge. What did you THINK a White Dog would do with that opportunity?"
We pulled into the drive a bit after 1am from the opera. As usual Pearl and Bella were in the Watching Window to greet us...but they were pushed aside by a new face...one wearing a muzzle!
"What the H is Roman doing out?" we both cried at once. Steve pulled to the stairs, threw the car into park and BOUNDED into the house."Please let everyone be calm and OK," I whispered.
Steve had spent almost an hour escape-proofing the kitchen before we left. We are gone too long to leave our reactive boy crated. So he goes into the kitchen (in his muzzle) and is babygated in. EXCEPT that last Sunday our boy casually leapt the gate because he wanted to hang out with Steve. So we were raising the Wall.
We have one of those gates with a door in it that has a locked lever. The bars are vertical so they cannot be used to climb. It is pressure screwed into the door frame.
To that gate, Steve inverted another, exactly the same only upside down to create a barricade that was his height. "That should keep him in. It is absolutely secure." Mistake number one, throwing down the gauntlet.
Nilla was fine, safely secured on the closed sun porch with her comfy mat and water dish. Tizenegy was fine; the old man most likely spent most the evening lying on his bed in the office in White Dog's company enjoying the cool. He DID run out when he heard Steve to rat out his brother...who was proudly standing and wagging over his accomplishment. In the background was a strange whirring noise.
The others were all fine as well.
Roman met me at the front door anxious that I see what a great problem solver he was. He had managed to figure out the door latch on the top gate. the gate was still in place and the door was wide open. The bottom gate lay flat on the ground at the entry to the living room...as if some determined force had pushed at it relentlessly until the pressure fit stops no longer secured the gate to the doorway. He simply must have pranced out at that point. Somehow during the evening our boy ALSO managed to turn on the mixer in the appliance stable which was spinning round and round on its shelf.
So the challenge is back in human hands. Before NEXT Saturday we must figure out another fool proof way to give our boy room to move about while at the same time containing him.
I swear I heard him mutter as Steve picked up the wreckage: "Give it your best shot, dad!"