Bo, our dumb dog, is an outside dog. He prefers it that way. On occasion, we bring him in because the weather is bad or because we have the gates open or because we're just plain bored and he's such a goofy dog he can provide us with some laughs! Generally speaking, though, he likes his great outdoors! Daisy, The Dad's and my first baby, on the other hand is so mellow, she doesn't mind being inside. When we bring her in, she finds her way to the spare room and settles in on the blankets we toss down, and she's a content little puppy.
With the seven feet of snow we currently have (and more falling all the time!), we've brought Bo (and our dear dog, Daisy) inside. This, my friends, is enough to make a momma drink!
Since Bo prefers to be outside, we let him out quite often... not as often as he'd like, though or we'd just be standing at the door letting him in, then letting him out, then letting him in, then letting him out.
Today was no different - he wanted in then out. Then, the snow started again and Bo was chomping at the bit to get out, then come in, then go out, then come in... and finally, we let him in and commenced the ignoring of said crazy dog.
Then my science-crazy Daughter 1 decided to do an experiment. She would set a cup outside and let it fill with falling snow. Then she'd bring it in, let it melt and see what kind of dirt she could find. She grabbed her materials and opened the front door...
... and was knocked down by our dumb dog Bo as he made his escape right out into the great, unfenced-unknown: The front yard!
Then then gnashing of teeth and the cries of the broken-hearted began!
"Momma! It's Bo - he's gone!"
"Momma! I already miss Bo! Go get him!"
"Momma! What if he gets lost?"
"Momma! Since Bo's gone, can we get a new puppy?" (Somehow, Daughter 1 is always bucking for a new puppy!)
The Dad and I consoled The Daughters reminding them that while he does like to escape every once in a while, he always, always comes back!
"Remember the night we moved in and at 11:00 that night, he ran through every neighbor's back yard?" I reminded them. "And we met every single one of our neighbors on our block? And we now know which ones own guns and which ones don't?" They could not be consoled. They were shedding real tears.
"Look," I said, "He'll be back. Just leave him alone, shut the door and he'll knock when he's ready to come in." Really. He will knock.
They just couldn't find any reason to be happy and worried about Bo being out on his own in the 21 feet of snow we had outside. And, they left the door open.
I hopped up, in my pjs, and I went to the front door. I stepped outside to see just how far away Bo had gotten and closed the door behind me so that the house wouldn't get too chilled. Bo saw me, bounded toward me, and just as I reached down to grab his collar, he bounded off again.
Fine. Be cold, dumb dog Bo.
I turned to go inside and the knob didn't turn. That's right. I was standing on our front porch, in our pajamas, in a snow storm, in temps that were reaching 20 ... maybe.
I pressed the door bell... and it crackled. On the outside. Apparently it was too cold for even a door bell.
I knocked. Nothing.
I banged. Nothing.
I kicked and yelled. Nothing.
I knocked, banged, kicked and yelled. Nada. Nothing. Zippo. My family had apparently, in a matter of just a very few short moments, become so engrossed in Wizards of Waverly Place that they forgot they even had a momma in the house! Or outside of the house - whichever the case may be!
I began to make my way to the garage door where I could use our key pad and gain access to my home, despite my family's best efforts to ignore my plight. At this point - four steps into the 54 feet snow drifts - our dumb dog Bo comes bounding up, jumps on the door with his front paws three times - doggie knocking - and within a matter of seconds, the door was flung open and arms were wide open greeting the long lost dog. Carefully, I turn and try to step in my own footsteps to make it back to the front door before...
... They closed the door on me.
Yes, they did.
They closed the door on me. BUT, not hard enough! With a carefully placed hip bump, I was able to gain access to my warm home, yet again.
"Momma! Momma! Bo's home again! Isn't that great? Now, I won't have to hang up all these 'lost' posters!"
Then The Daughters looked at me and noticed the snow in my hair - which they immediately declared totally unfair that I got to be outside when I told them it was too cold for them!
I grabbed a blanket, wrapped up and plopped down on the couch, at which point The Dad, resting his thumb from a wild channel-surfing workout, looked at me and said, "Honey? Who was that at the door?"
I'm thinking The Dad needs to serve as Bo's personal escort from here on out!
