Now, I've probably been responsible for a fair share of small "roadkill" deaths in my day. I remember once I was driving home from a friend's house in College Station and I hit a possum, and I actually pulled over to see if he was ok. Obviously, he wasn't. It's hard to come back from having your insides on your outside. I didn't realize at the time that possums are assholes, so it was no big deal. I know I've been the culprit of some other roadkill hit and runs also, but I have never killed a rodent with my bare teeth and sheer curiosity. But, as of about two weeks ago, my dog has. I'll let you guess which one...
You knew it wasn't going to be Truman. Anyway, I'm just sitting at work getting stuff done when I get a text from Scott that Cherry found a rabbit in the backyard. I think "out how cute." Then I get the text that she not only found a rabbit, but she proceeded to grab it in the vice grip of her mouth and was refusing to let it go. I'm still not convinced that the situation is as dire as Scott is making it sound, so I just go on about my business. It's not until later that I fully understand the situation. Not only did she catch a rabbit, but she then proceeded to whip her hair back and forth with the rabbit still locked firmly in her jaw. Despite repeated attempts by Scott to remove the poor animal from her mouth, she won't let go. This reminds me of an oddly similar situation involving a decrepit pigeon at the dog park in St. Louis (see said entry somewhere else in this sparkling blog). Anyway, finally he essentially beats Bugs Bunny out of her mouth, and he has clearly suffered grave injury. Without a firm plan, he throws the rabbit into the sink, out of the reach of the beast. He then takes a shoe box that had previously been occupied by a fantastic pair of leopard print stilettos, and runs back into the kitchen, where he discovers that (SHOCK) cats are interested in rabbits. Evie, who hates everything and everyone, is standing on the counter batting at the rabbit, who can barely move. He throws Bugs into the shoebox and races off to the vet school, and texts me on the way. In the rush of the moment he completely forgot to even let Truman in the house. While he's on his way, I get a text that he's taking the Bugs to the vet. I immediately picture intensive rabbit surgery.
I got this picture from a well-respected medical journal on rabbit medicine. Or, I googled 'rabbit surgery' and this is what showed up.
I fire back that I not be responsible for the cost of saving some random rabbit. It's harsh, but someone has to be the reasonable one. Turns out, there was no saving Bugs. He was humanely relieved of his time on earth, and went to kick it with all our favorite household pets. And so, Cherry is a murderer.
Cherry also somehow locked herself in the guest room one afternoon while Scott and I were out a few Saturdays ago. I'm not simply talking about closing the door on herself. I mean she actually managed to turn the small door lock on the door knob. We get home and I go to let her out of confinement, where she spends her days when we're not home because she cannot be trusted to not eat everything in our home, and the door is locked. So...we're not sure what to do. Our first obvious thought was to check the window to see if somehow we were stupid enough to leave one of the front windows of our home completely unlocked and accessible from the outdoors. Unfortunately, we aren't stupid so that window was firmly locked. Next plan, the credit card in the latch. This plan worked back when I was in college and we needed to break into the spare room in our apartment after our insane 3rd roommate moved out. This time, no luck. All I succeeded in doing was bending my Sam's Club card beyond recognition, and our dog was still locked in the bedroom.
So I then decide to use the paper clip in the little "keyhole". This entire time I'm not even sure what I'm doing, and for all I know I'm just locking the door even more. The keyhole idea fails too, so I decide to try to pop off the brass plate on the door handle to see if there's something doing there. Nothing. Google provides no answers that I haven't already tried, which is unfortunate since Google is my life manual. After about 30 minutes and me being on the verge of having Scott kick in the door, I decide to stick the paperclip in behind the brass plate one more time. I start jabbing the paperclip around behind the door handle and all the sudden I hear a click and SHE'S FREE! The door opens like nothing ever happened. Despite what was a traumatic experience for the humans in the house, Cherry has no idea what is going on, and is sitting contently on the floor chewing a bone.
You can just call me the house MacGyver. Or Jack Bauer. Or HERO.
In my few seconds of searching, this picture is the closest to me looking crafty. Or like a soaking wet ghostbuster. Whatever.
And so concludes another episode of my dog is a moron. Until next time, I bid you farewell.
