So here’s the story. Usually when I bring the dogs out to pee, I will bring Isabelle with me or leave her in the living room to follow me. If she’s in the living room it takes her a little bit to follow so I will leave the door between the house and the garage open. Then what usually happens is I hear her stomping down the hallway. I peak around the door and she waves at me with her little hand on her forehead saying in her little high pitched voice, hiiiii!!
Well today right before Isabelle’s nap I brought the dogs out like usual. But today she didn’t follow me. I had put on a newly rented Kipper DVD so obviously she found that more interesting. So like usual the door between the house and the garage was open. So I thought great! While she’s occupied I’ll hose off the dog run. So I started and Waldo was chasing the water and he would not stop. So in frustration I slammed the door from the garage to the back yard in his face. I then tried to open it and it WOULD NOT OPEN!
OH MY GAWD IT WOULD NOT OPEN AND THE BABY WAS IN THE HOUSE! Can you imagine my panic? I tried to turn the knob but nothing. I don’t remember pushing the little lock button but the door would not open. In a panic I ran all around the house, with the dogs chasing me, hoping something was unlocked. But I knew nothing was. I saw my neighbor in front of his house and yelled at him oh my gawd stay right there! and ran back to the back door. (So glad I wasn’t in my nightgown and actually had clothes on. I mean we were right about to take a nap!) I told the dogs to go inside and blocked the doggy door so they couldn’t go chasing me again.
I ran back to the neighbor yelling oh my gawd I’m locked out of the house and the baby is inside! Give me your phone! He did. I ran back to the door again trying the knob while calling Alan and screamed at him, Oh my gawd! COME HOME! I’M LOCKED OUTSIDE AND THE BABY IS INSIDE! Alan’s yelling at me, WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE BABY IS LOCKED INSIDE?! Then me, SHE’S LOCKED INSIDE! JUST COME HOME!!! Then I ran back to the neighbor and gave him his phone and ran back to the door.
So I’m frantically trying to open the door about to break down crying. I reach in through the doggy door and try to turn the knob on the door which would usually mean unlocking it. But NOTHING. It will not turn. And then I push the lock button. And the door locks. IT WASN’T LOCKED BEFORE. THE DOOR IS JAMMED. That’s why I couldn’t open it.
So then I’m thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts. I’m thinking about breaking windows to get into the house. I’m thinking of kicking the door in like you see on tv. I’m thinking about how the doggy door is too small (because we’ve been locked out before and couldn’t squeeze back in) and how I’m willing to break bones to squeeze my way in there. You know your basic frantic crazy panicked thoughts.
So I must have tried pushing the door with my shoulder. I don’t remember doing it but I must have because I my shoulder hurts now. And then I laid down and put one arm in the doggy door. Only one arm and my shoulder because that’s all that would fit and then I squeezed the rest of myself in. I SQUEEZED in. It was tight but I got in. Really tight. Not like in my drawing. I don’t know how I did it. I don’t know if the last time I tried we had a smaller doggy door or if I’ve lost weight. I don’t know. All I know is I got back into the garage. I stood there for one second in total unbelief that I had just gotten back in.
I then raced back into the living room to Isabelle. And what was she doing? She was standing right where I had left her. Watching tv. She did not even look at me when I walked in! She did not even miss me.
And Alan was so mad. He had turned back to come home and then had to turn back. He was late for work. Then I had to take a shower. Ya know I was lying in the freshly hosed off dog run. Yeah. Shower. And I grabbed Isabelle and put her in the bathroom with me and she was so confused. She kept trying to climb in with me thinking it was bath time.
I don’t know how long I was outside. It felt like forever. Scariest, longest, what…five minutes of my life.
Go read Silly Parent #31, Happy When She Copies Me.