Reading, Writing & Other Addictions

Facing Reality Through Fiction

Gone to the Dogs

So, I have a new petsitting client–my friend Tami, who asked me to housesit for her while she and her husband, Michael, go to Hawaii with their family.  They have two shih tzus, Marley and Chewy (or Chewbacca (pictured to the left), though if you ask me, he looks more like an Ewok, which makes me wonder if George Lucus had a shih tzu.)

Anyway, Tami and Michael have their house set up where the doors automatically lock when they are closed.  In other words, you can get out, but you can’t get back in.  They also have pad locks on the gates to their back yard.  Now, they do have a lock box by their front door just in case you lock yourself out.  But that does you no good if say you go outside around midnight in your pjs to make sure the dogs pee before they go into their kennel for the night and end up locking yourself in the backyard.

Now, I haven’t climbed a fence since I was like nine, but after ripping a couple of nails past the quick and falling at least three times, I finally got out of the backyard and made it to the lock box in the front.  (I am very lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) that the neighbors did not call the police.  The next morning I looked like an accident victim with bruises running down both arms and one leg. After toying with the idea of telling people I was training to be a kung fu master and had just won my first battle with my arch enemy Lo Mien, I decided the truth was actually more funny, besides Lo Mien would kick my butt.

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