Chill out, Daddy 2…
When The Hub and I moved into Castle Chris2fer, we did not own our youngest, Grady. We got him 2 weeks later. He was the size of a butterstick. Take a moment. Imagine the cuteness. Pause, Savor. Ok. Back then, he could only move at a relative snails pace. We easily could restrain his desire to investigate the world.
Fast forward one month. Suddenly, my little boy moved so quickly that he could rip a tear in the time stream and end up where he was headed before he started out. There was no way the Hubby or I could keep up. Enter one back yard fence. We went to the HD, bought some green wire fencing, and pounded that all over the back yard. Grady: contained!
Well, that was supposed to be temporary, just until we scraped enough together to put in a real, grown-up fence. Sadly, that day never came. And the blight that is the green wire fencing had to be stopped.
Since we now take Grady out on lease at all times (due to his propensity to kill) we decided to take down the fence. Which we did this weekend. And, for those of you who know me, this jump started my oh so slight (read: overwhelming) propensity to worry.
I worry that Hub will forget to put the leash on Grady and that when he opens the back door Grady will propel himself into the third dimension and away from us forever. I worry that Grady will somehow figure out how to pass the molecules of his body through the closed door all on his own, and disappear into the night. I worry that the collar that we attach the leash to will somehow fail, and that Grady, without a backward glance, mind you, will decide that he wants to live free, or die.
In expressing my worries to Hub and Jess, I received disdainful looks of incomprehension. Don’t they also think that it would be a good idea to encase Grady in a giant hamster bubble, only allowing small holes for air and pees and poos? Why don’t they love Grady as much as I do? And why are they looking at me like that? I’m not crazy! Ha ha! HA HA HA HA HA!
So, now I am trying to take a deep breath and trust that no one who deals with my dog is braindead. And hey. Even if Grady somehow gets away? I imagine that we will get him back once he has learned the harsh reality of life on the streets and what an amazing and spoiled life he now leads. He might not take us for granted, so much. That’d be nice. Hmm… Maybe I’ll “accidently” leave the back door open…