Usually my postwork routine looks like this:
- Take R train home
- Pick perfect song for the 3 minute walk to my door from my stop.
- Drop my stuff, let Gracie out of her crate, trick her into her harness and click her leash into place
- Take G to dog run
- Take increasingly long ways home to wear her out
- Swing by the pet store if we’re out of vile chewing sticks or I feel like lighting $6 on fire by giving her a plush toy she’ll dismantle in seconds.
Today however, Gracie greeted me at the door. This was odd, not because it was the middle of the night, but because Gracie was in the middle of the apartment instead of in the middle of her zipped-shut crate.
Apparently Miss Thang had decided no power in the ‘Verse could keep her in an accidentally unzipped crate and had decided to spend the day lounging in comfort on my bed. My door is the only push-open-able one in the apartment, so she made herself at home.
Casualties: 1 blue pic pen, 1 right slipper, blue spots on Gracie, my college quilt and one dingy sock.
But! It’s good to know she can be alone in the apartment without destroying everything. My suspicion is that she didn’t notice she was at liberty until she went for a late afternoon stretch. Oh Gracie. So smart and yet…and yet so clueless.