Broken door, day 1

Captain’s log: Broken front door, day 1, hour 1

Knowing the front entrance to the house is not available is like knowing you can’t drink water; even if you just drank a gallon of water, it makes you thirsty. Man shouldn’t live like this, trapped like an animal in a cage. Searching for a karmic reason, some ultimate justification for the craziness of this all so it might all make sense, I wonder to myself if this is payback for all the rescued dogs who have lived with me. I decide not.

I look at my fellow prisoners, human, canine, avian, and piscine alike, with suspicion, and they look back, revealing nothing. Am I trapped in here with them or they with me?

So many windows open, yet knowing I’m trapped still makes the air feel stale.

I look at the clock; how long his it been? Something like 20 minutes now, but it feels more like 25 or even 30.

I feel like the chihuahua is looking at me strangely, like in an old Loony Tunes cartoon when a hungry character looks at another and just sees a giant walking bratwurst, but maybe it’s just me.

The human child seems to be taking this all strangely well, which makes me even more suspicious. Not of her, just suspicious in general.

I secretly wonder why we couldn’t just come and go from the back door while we sort this out, just like we did when we were troubleshooting the sticky lock a few minutes ago. But the imprisoned part of me realizes, “That’s just what they want us to do.” Whoever “they” are.

Knowing we’re not actually trapped in any impressive way should alleviate my fears, but what if I want to leave THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR? It’s almost too much. (We totally could, though. Leave as we pleased. We can come and go from the back door really easily. It’s like an extra 10 seconds.)

Trapped. Trapped without any clear way of getting out. I hope the food holds out. (But seriously. Any of us could just walk out the gate and drive to the store if we wanted. Or even walk. Like usual. It takes 10 more seconds.)

Sometimes you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone, like the sweet, sweet freedom of being able to leave your house through the front door. (Even when you have a really equal amount of freedom by leaving your house through the back door. With a really minor time penalty. Seriously, like 10 more seconds. Who doesn’t have 10 seconds?)

The horror…