Well, it turns out that either our hearing was bad or Daisy had indeed waited a few minutes for us to return. Only a few. Then she realized that she had been abandoned. Trapped.
When we did get back a half hour later, she was right by the door. So happy to see us! All seemed well, until one of us turned to close the door. She must have stood right there, and waited. Our steps faded. She looked up and up. The door was tall. She nosed around for a way out. And when the thing didn't open on its own like it usually did, she tried to claw it open.
The back of the door, which we ourselves had painstakingly painted, coat after coat, was not a pretty sight. Tom was ready to return Daisy. We both knew, however, that this was not an option.
We thought perhaps she wasn't really that unable to stay alone. Perhaps those dogs walking way over in the field beyond our house had caused Daisy's fright. So we overlooked the scratches on the door.
The next time I had to leave the house and Daisy alone in it -- just for a half hour, I reasoned -- I strung up sheets all along the windows. I closed the shoji panel in my office so she could sleep under the desk, her usual spot. I tiptoed away and crossed my fingers.
Oh boy. When I returned, it was as if a tornado had struck. My desk chair had been flipped around, the lamp knocked over. There were shoji pieces all over the floor like tinker toys. The wooden desk had been completely cleared of papers, phone, stapler, letter holder and the other miscellaneous junk that had piled up. The surface was pristine, except for two long scratches. And my lap top computer -- well, never to be used again. It looked as if Daisy had climbed on the chair and pulled on the shoji in order to get out the window. But the seat twisted around under her weight. Quickly she tried to brace herself on the computer desk, instead crushing two big pawprints in the laptop keyboard. That was pretty scary, so she must have jumped on another, big wooden desk off to the side. All those papers and things? Well, when you're in a hurry, you just let the debris fall where it may.
There was no point to yelling at Daisy or crying at the loss of my $2,000 computer. So I jumped on the desk myself, surveyed the damage, and broke into laughter.
7 comments:
One time, early in our association, I left Maggie alone, thinking I had totally dog-proofed the whole apartment. The only thing that was vulnerable was a rosewood recorder, which I had been carrying with me since childhood. It was on a high shelf, in a case, so I assumed it was safe. I came home to find a big yellow Lab with a furiously wagging tail, and a pile of splinters. She had climbed up to the shelf, taken the recorder, and carefully removed it from its case. Then she gnawed it to a pulp. I felt bad, but then I said to myself, "it's just stuff." And I started to laugh. Not quite as hard as the time Maggie pulled "The Making of the Atomic Bomb" off my shelf and ripped out all the pages. But I laughed nevertheless. It was a very nice door. Mara
She probably just wanted to play your recorder, then got frustrated. But you gotta wonder, why *would* Maggie pick that particular thing to climb up and snatch? And she certainly has unusual reading interests. Better keep an eye on that girl....
PS If you click on "other" when you write a comment you don't have to be "anonymous". It should ask your name.
It's possible she was trying to play the recorder. She is quite the virtuoso on several kinds of squeaks, and will issue a series of truly Wagnerian barks when making her displeasure known. But my theory is that these were items I had handled a lot, the book being some 700 or so pages long. Perhaps they had my scent, and she wanted to play whatever game I was playing...
Probably. Looked like fun, and why else would you have stored it way up there?
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