The Wife is out of town for a few days visiting her parents. So I'm outnumbered in the man v. beast category around the Shaque D'amour. Currently it's Dogs 2, Humans 1. Of course some have suggested that it'll just be three of us sitting on the floor eating bacon.
Which is completely untrue. Last night it was chicken. And we all were watching baseball. Playoff baseball. Some of us even had on more than just underwear. Socks count as clothing you know.
But even though I've had to switch to the zone defense to try to prevent the double team, I'm unable to keep watch on both Hell Hounds all the time. And apparently, the wee one, Tiki, has learned to fly. Yes, you read that correctly.
See we have to put the tiny tot into a holding cell during the day as he's so young he can't get his shots yet: Rabies, Rubella, Mumps, Bordatella. I'm unsure of the specifics obviously. Which means we can't just inflict him upon some unsuspecting Dog Day Care because of their silly rules about disease and such.
So during the day for short periods of time until we can return home to cater to his every whim at lunch and dinner and coffee breaks and conference calls, he goes in The Mormon Vault. I'm not making this up.
The houses out here in God's Country have a sort of built in downstairs pantry wherein The Chosen store food in preparation for the End of Days or the Rapture or the election of Obama. I'm not certain how much food they're supposed to be squirrelling away. It's either 3 months or a year. Instead we squirrel away our Tiki Monster. It's like a concrete closet which I've cleverly MacGuyvered a dog gate to with the use of plastic clothing container and picture wire around some exposed studs. Seriously, I have made skillz in terms of juryrigging crap. I didn't even have to use duct tape on this one.
But the other day, Tiki went over the wall. Which is some mad Great Escape for someone without opposable thumbs. Because while the dog door has an opening wherein the containee beast can enter into, it latches. With a sliding piece of plastic held in place by a spring. So there's really no way a dog could open it with his mouth. He'd have to slide the plastic piece over and hold it in place while pulling up on the latch. Impossible.
When we got home, the gate door was open and Tiki had romped and frolicked to great joy within the many treasures contained in our basement and enjoyed snacking upon various and sundry delicacies like Xbox 360 headsets and furnace filters. Now I know there's no way my very responsible Wife could have been so distracted by a squirming, flying-power-hiding puppy and would have left the gate unlatched. So he must be able to fly.
Now I've got to go so I can hook up a camcorder to nab some video of him soaring around the basement. Because that's going to be really popular on Youtube.
I could be wrong of course. They may be some other logical explanation for how he busted out of the joint.
Like he could be telekinetic.