My blockage failed in the wee hours. At approximately 4am I heard the crunch, crunch of that determined little mop trying to break on through and slide past the mylar balloon. When he made it to the top of the stairs I heard a little whine of defeat.
Living in an old house comes with trade offs. Most of the doors are out of square and don't shut properly. Luckily, I anticipated the willfullness of this crazy canine. Before I went to sleep I wedged a sock folded in two between the door and the jamb. A nice tight lockdown.
Not being able to fall back to sleep, I was forced to listen to him nibble and lap at himself. Charlie was pissed that Yasha made it upstairs and stayed there. The Chidler is not allowed up there save for a brief morning hello to the baby. When I cracked the seal on the bedroom door this morning, Charles bounds up the stairs to survey his invaded foreign territory.
That big bastard pissed a tiny puddle in the baby's room. In fact he peed on the Chihauhua calendar Nan gave Snowflake for Valentine's. Twisted revenge. I grabbed the wee white devil and carried him downstairs while shooing the Chidler ahead of us. What a sweet good morning. This definitely means war.
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