Beyond the Barricade

Yesterday, my mom came home from her lovely trip to Utah. She and Dad were both out of state for their various reasons, leaving me home alone with Sami. Now, I know I've told you about Sami before (she has her own tag and everything), but it's worth detailing her again for you to fully grasp this story.

Sami is very old. And I mean very old. She's been around since Michael Jordan played for the Bulls and the Super Nintendo was still the coolest thing a kid could own. (Okay, so one of those is still true...) As such an old lady, Sami is mostly deaf, almost blind, sleeps 80% of the day, and needs bathroom breaks a lot more than she used to. She also thinks she's the bee's knees.

My life is apparently just another unfortunate addition to today's situation. Because, you see, I actually have one. This weekend I was hardly home- I generally had seminary, school, Les Mis practice, some sort of social outing, and church everyday, meaning I wouldn't be home for sometimes twelve consecutive hours. This does not bode well for a dog that needs to be let outside every two hours (or every 30 minutes, if she's feeling ambitious).

So Mom got this brilliant idea to barricade all the carpet off. Sami LOVES carpet, which means she also loves to poop on it. Mom set up her short, human-accessible but Sami-denying barricades on the stairs and in the living room entrances.

You might see these itty-bitty walls and think "Oh garsh, that would never stop a proper dog from getting in that room!" And it probably wouldn't. But Sami's not a proper dog. Not only is she a sissy, she has an irrational fear of anything that poses itself to be a wall. Bad past experiances with breaking limbs and angry mallards have trained Sami to fear walls even just a few inches high. So imagine my surprise Thursday evening when I was cleaning up Sami's expected poop and saw her chilling in the walled-off living room, like it was where she belonged her whole life. After staring at her for a little bit in confusion, I coaxed her out the way she'd gotten in...taking a little step up and walking directly on top of the wall.

"Aight," I told her, as home-alone people are overly apt to talk to their pets, "that one wasn't exactly rocket-science. But let's see you tackle the stairs." As I got over it and taunted her with the wall that she couldn't possibly get around or over, she was not amused. I wish I knew how to illustrate what this puppy managed. It was like watching a sick combination of some Mission-Impossible scene and a contortionist act as she liquified herself and slid between the stairs and barricade's feet and low-hanging top. I have full faith she could get her entire self into a bottle if her lonliness depended on it.


So I, of course, reinforced the barricade.Okay, that's a little exaggerated. But not much.

A few minutes after doing that, I went upstairs (leaving Sami the Dog Wonder downstairs) to brush my teeth. It took about 45 seconds before I heard a ridiculously loud crash-and-tumble, followed by a very nanchalant pitter of paws and jangle of a collar.

I look to my right and who prances into the room, but Sami herself. She sits on the floor, watching me brush my teeth, like completely demolishing the barricade with most likely just a threatening glare was more boring than my daily hygeine. No big deal.

From this, I've garnered two conclusions. First, Sami clearly has alzheimer's to add to her list of signs of old age, because not once did she show an ounce of mallard-driven fear. Secondly, I believe she's going to be cast in the next Matrix film, or at least an episode of Chuck.

Guess getting old doesn't need to be so bad after all.

Do You Hear the People Sing? can be found in Les Miserables, which is going to be at WV April 29-May 2