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I should have named my dog Houdini.
Grace escaped the safety of home twice last week, once while no one was home. My daughter got a text from a neighbor friend telling her that Grace was out, chasing down vans on our dead-end street. That led to a panicked call to me, which led to texts to a couple other neighbors for help wrangling the slippery little pooch.
By the time I made it home, Grace was back in the house. Turns out the door latch had broken and the wind probably pushed it right open — which was way too inviting for Grace, who got a real taste of freedom.
A few days later, Grace was out on her line outside (so I thought) while I was working when I heard repeated knocking on my door. It was our mail carrier, who just so happens to be a really big fan of Grace. She came across that big ol' bully down at the end of the road, playing in snow in a neighbor's yard. She hopped into her mail truck and Grace followed her all the way back to our house, where she said "Come on, Grace, let's go in the house!" And the dog did.
All this to say, my happy little pup loves her couch and snuggling with mama, and playing with the kitties, and treats from the kids — but dare I say, she loves the freedom of running full speed down our street just a little bit more.
Sorry, girl ... the door is fixed and your collar is repaired. Try again.
Thanks for reading,
-Marla Hoffman |
