I'm sure hearing about this is getting old to you too, but I'm starting to feel like I'm in one of those dumb Beethoven movies or something. This destructive dog is controlling my life.
And making me realize what a bad housekeeper I am.
There's this oh so familiar jingling sound that keeps greeting me at the door and filling me with dread.
I left for an hour this morning. That's it. And I wasn't going to bother padlocking the crate because I was thinking that most of the time the problem was the kids leaving one of the locks open. But then I thought about it a little, and padlocked the crate anyhow just to be safe. There's a second door on the side that wasn't padlocked and was up against the wall.
This is what I cam home to again!. If you look carefully, you'll see the padlocked door is the side on the floor. Thelma turned the crate over on it's side and escaped out the side that wasn't padlocked, the side that WAS up against the wall - the wall that is now dinged up from the crate.
You'll also see the milk she spilled from a cup I left on the table earlier, because I'm a slob.
And you'll see in the background the guts of a stuffed toy she's already demolished.
And in the upper right corner, you can see Thelma, outside, which is quickly becoming her new home.
I'm thinking in a previous life, she must have escaped from Alcatraz.