ode to the doorknob

it’s a really good thing i’m no one’s mother. i have zoey, and that’s as close as i want to get, considering she’s only two years old and we’re both clear on the idea that she’s top dog.

i know! she’s totally spoiled. recently, i confused “spoiled” with “more mature” and now have some home repairs to take care of.

it started during the crush of visitors this summer that was apparently so exciting zoey decided to be afraid of the guest room and forget that she was crate trained. after a bit of shoving, pointing, and whining (all on my part), she spent most of july with free reign of the kitchen/dining room area.

this was fine until the refrigerator became terrifying. i can’t even see if there’s anything to eat (and there never is) without her fleeing upstairs; and i admit, that was kinda funny until last week.

• wednesday: destroyed the blind on the door
• thursday: serious scratch marks and a hole (a hole!) in the doorknob
• friday: the nubbin thing that locks the door? she ate it.
• the weekend: wrapped the knob in foil to dissuade her. she shredded it.
• monday: she puked up the nubbin thing ... gross.

so, the crate is reassembled and after a couple wrestling matches, i’m back to having the impression of being in power … until val and shawn come for the weekend and i end up having to buy another doorknob.