The Open Gate

For a brief second last weekend, I thought that my family had had enough of my high jinks and mischievous ways. I thought, perhaps, that I had shredded a few too many shirts (but I so love ripping buttons off of dress shirts), woke up a few too many people a few too many times with my 3AM snout rubbing, digging, and yodeling sessions, or had ripped up a few too many pieces of (important) paperwork.

How did I come to this conclusion?  Last Friday night and Saturday morning, while I was checking the perimeters of my backyard out east, I discovered that the side gate had been left wide open.

Being the good boy that I am, I was not tempted by the sweet smell of freedom beckoning me into the wilderness (of course, the knowledge that that very same wilderness contained scary things like deer, beach ball sized chickens, and fish that fall from the sky might have played a part in my decision).  Instead, I merely stuck to my normal routine of sniffing all my trees and pining for the squeaky toy that the dog next door tauntingly leaves right next to the fence.  But despite my calm cool demeanor, the seeds of concern had been firmly planted in my mind.  Was my family tempting me to leave?

When Pa came outside to see what I was up to, he was shocked.  He closed the gate then told me that I was a very good boy for not running away.  Then he told Ma and Sister about what a good boy I was. After some discussion, my family came to the conclusion that the landscapers must have accidentally left the gate open the last time they were there.

I'll admit that I felt better after seeing my family's reaction and hearing their explanation, however, try as I might, I just couldn't shake the concern I felt about whether or not the gate had been left open intentionally.  After mulling the situation over again and again, I decided that the only way I could put my mind at ease was by making a break for it and observing whether or not someone tried to stop me.

But, as I mentioned earlier, eastern Long Island with its rampaging deer, chickens, and fish is not the place for such shenanigans.  I needed to wait until I got home where the only things roaming the neighborhood are pushy bunnies, stupid squirrels, and tail jettisoning lizards.  And that's what I did.  On Sunday, when Ma, Pa, and Sister were emptying out their cars, I seized the opportunity and slipped past the front gate.

I won't lie, the feeling of freedom was exhilarating; so much so that, while I had only intended to roam around the front yard, I found myself becoming overwhelmed and started running around in tight circles, kicking up grass as I went.  I was free!

But despite the distraction of the wind whistling through my fur, I was able to make out the comforting sound of Ma, Pa, and Sister all calling out my name, telling me to come.  Eventually, Sister managed to corral me (she tempted me over to her by opening the car door knowing I can't resist the promise of a car ride), Pa hooked his belt to my collar like a leash, and we all walked calmly back into the yard.

That afternoon, I slept easy knowing that the gate out east had only been left open accidentally and that it was not a sign that my family had had enough of my shredding, ripping, and 3AM snout rubbing, digging, and yodeling sessions.  A few hours later, bright eyed and bushy tailed, I resumed my mischievous ways.