Clues from the loo

It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

Apparently Ben didn't get the memo.

Our little canine Lord of the Loo shut himself in the bathroom AGAIN on Tuesday.

As this is becoming a more and more uncommon occurrence at the Nine-One-Four, I no longer panic if I'm not immediately greeted by a wiggling, shimmying barking gray dog when I walk through the door from work, I just check the bathrooms.

Sure enough. Yesterday it was the upstairs bathroom. From the foot of the stairs, I could see the door was shut -- not latched -- but most definitely, definitively closed. I could hear a faint scrambled of nails across the vinyl floor followed by a series of politely inquisitive snuffles.

And as usual, when I opened the doo,r Ben tap danced out, doing little deer hops and 180s up and down the hallway, almost laughing because he's so pleased with himself. There is absolutely no fear or remorse in his eyes. It's very clear -- Ben considers himself a genius.

Well, listen up, genius dog. We think we've got you figured out.

This is SO embarrassing.
 I am smarter than them.
Alway was. Always will be.
You might want to stop reading here.

Tuesday. Tuesday. Tuesday.

The lock-ins almost always happen on Tuesdays -- the one day of the week when the Wonderfully Patient Spouse and I both go out the door at 8:30 in the morning and do not return until after 5, leaving Ben to his own devices, ie, laying on our bed, snoozing, periodically checking The Unmentionables, selectively waking up to bark at the mail man and anyone else with the impertinence to walk by or near our house, snoozing, periodically checking The Unmentionables, etc. etc. etc., for a little more than 8 hours.

(Don't worry. He's had at least a 45- to 60-minute walk before we head off to the salt mines in the morning.)

A while back, we realized that as the days were getting shorter last fall, Ben was spending the last hour or so of these long Tuesdays completely in the dark. We took pity on the old boy and set a couple lights -- one in the living room, the other in our bedroom -- on timer so they'd pop on around 4 making the house all warm and cozy. For him and for us.

Well, make that for us.

After much in-house kitchen bench consultations, reinforced by in-park ruminations with The Amazing M's, we're thinking Ben's not so keen on the pop-on lights. Whether they startle, confuse or annoy -- who knows. So the pop-on lights go off this week (it's getting just a shade lighter in the afternoons anyway) . . .  and we believe the Lord of the Loo's bathroom lock-downs should come to an end.

That is, until the next time Ben needs his Panic Room.

Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter.

Good lord.
Does NO ONE in this house understand the concept of
ME TIME?