Don't be fooled by the fur
Today's theme: Butter is smaller than she looks.
After a playdate with much biting and rowling (not quite a growl -- think sea lion sounds, only coming out of a cute little puppy), I left Butter in the backyard and walked Zoe next door. While chatting at the front door, M said, "I think Playdough just ran down the street." Playdough is my other neighbor's Cairn Terrier and is almost the same size and color right now as Butter. I froze, "Could it have been Butter?" I ran out the gate, called her name, and my adorable little puppy came running into my arms. Butter!!! I picked her up and carried her home and then checked the backyard. The gate was still closed. Could she possibly have cleared the fence? It was then that I noticed a tiny corner of the fencing that hadn't been reattached after T built the taller gate. We had totally overlooked it, as it rests snug against the fencepost and doesn't look like it's unattached. She must have wiggled through. That will be fixed today. And we'll also fill in the fencing above it, just in case. I returned to the front porch and hugged Butter and cried a bit. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost her. She has already dug quite a deep hole into my heart -- we've had her for less than six weeks and I would be bereft if she ran away. I would also never forgive myself.
So the theme continued once we got inside. To preface this story: The cat dishes are in an alcove in our front hallway -- there's a gate up that keeps Butter out, but has a little cat door for feline access. I actually halved the size of the cat door when I installed the gate because I feared that Butter would be able to fit through it as a puppy. (I overcompensated a bit, as the cats have to duck to get through.) Anyway, I go to the coat rack to get the towel to wipe off Butter's paws, and I turn around just in time to see her tail end wiggling through the cat door into the cat food area. She immediately and triumphantly picks up two cat toys -- both small enough to be swallowed. I scoop her up (my back is not going to be in good shape this weekend), get her to drop the toys, wipe off her paws, and am reminded of how much respect I have for parents.
After a playdate with much biting and rowling (not quite a growl -- think sea lion sounds, only coming out of a cute little puppy), I left Butter in the backyard and walked Zoe next door. While chatting at the front door, M said, "I think Playdough just ran down the street." Playdough is my other neighbor's Cairn Terrier and is almost the same size and color right now as Butter. I froze, "Could it have been Butter?" I ran out the gate, called her name, and my adorable little puppy came running into my arms. Butter!!! I picked her up and carried her home and then checked the backyard. The gate was still closed. Could she possibly have cleared the fence? It was then that I noticed a tiny corner of the fencing that hadn't been reattached after T built the taller gate. We had totally overlooked it, as it rests snug against the fencepost and doesn't look like it's unattached. She must have wiggled through. That will be fixed today. And we'll also fill in the fencing above it, just in case. I returned to the front porch and hugged Butter and cried a bit. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost her. She has already dug quite a deep hole into my heart -- we've had her for less than six weeks and I would be bereft if she ran away. I would also never forgive myself.
So the theme continued once we got inside. To preface this story: The cat dishes are in an alcove in our front hallway -- there's a gate up that keeps Butter out, but has a little cat door for feline access. I actually halved the size of the cat door when I installed the gate because I feared that Butter would be able to fit through it as a puppy. (I overcompensated a bit, as the cats have to duck to get through.) Anyway, I go to the coat rack to get the towel to wipe off Butter's paws, and I turn around just in time to see her tail end wiggling through the cat door into the cat food area. She immediately and triumphantly picks up two cat toys -- both small enough to be swallowed. I scoop her up (my back is not going to be in good shape this weekend), get her to drop the toys, wipe off her paws, and am reminded of how much respect I have for parents.