This picture is old now, taken last summer. One of the subjects has grown a bit and one has grown a shocking amount since then, but I think this picture best sums up the relationship between Lucy and her beloved sibling, Jasper the dog. Notice how happy they both are: Lucy as she torments Jasper, Jasper as he hopes to score something good. They are a match made in heaven.About a week ago I ushered the girls, who had been playing in their rooms, to the basement so that I could put Lucy down for a nap. This is a more chaotic transition than you might imagine, because it involves getting them all through the kitchen - past a baby gate and through a door while trying to keep the frantic dog from escaping. So there was, as there always is, lots of yelling and toppling over and mob-type frenzies. Once the girls had been successfully relocated, though, I realized that Lucy had escaped (as I thought) into the basement. And then - crap! - I noticed that the dog was missing.
I ran upstairs first, thinking that the dog might have pushed past the girls unnoticed while they filed by the gate. The top floor was dead silent, though, so I didn't bother checking it much. The one thing I can count on is Jasper causing a ruckus any time he manages to get to some part of the house that has lots of forbidden things to chew. I ran down to the basement, but the girls hadn't seen him there, so I checked the unfinished section. He wasn't there. At this point, I was getting concerned- there are only so many places a dog can go, and I was running out of ideas. I checked outside, although I knew he hadn't been let out. I re-checked the top floor, looking into every room and even the closets. He wasn't there.
I came back down to the kitchen, looking again under the table and behind the chairs, knowing he wasn't there. The house felt eerie and quiet without his dog-noises in the background. The girls were helping now, too, their eyes big and beginning to fill with tears. We were starting to worry that he had escaped outside somehow, and the busy road outside makes that a much bigger problem than it might sound like.
I stood in the kitchen and surveyed the adjoining hallway, all the doors tightly shut as they always are to keep the dog from chewing up the blankets, the clothes, the rugs.....our dog really likes to chew. The girls were all gathered around me, concerned, but I wasn't paying them much attention. I was worried about the dog. I began to look into the closed rooms, not expecting anything but at a loss for what else to do. The guestroom was empty and quiet. The bathroom was, too. I looked into my bedroom, and it was also empty. But as I was about to close the door I heard a dull thump, and it made me pause for a second. I went past the bed and opened the door to the bathroom.
Standing square in the middle of the room was none other than Lucy, with her arm draped casually around Jasper's neck as he tore into a roll of toilet paper. She looked up at me and grinned and then said, breezily as you please, "Hi!" Opening doors is a brand-new trick of hers, and it appears that while I was occupied with the older girls she had quietly opened the door to my room and lured Jasper through into the bathroom. What seems incredible to me now is that my first thought was not to check on the whereabouts of Lucy, and assuming from the get-go that she was the culprit. Where else would Jasper be but at the side of his favorite companion, hoping for food or at the very least a chance to get to some forbidden treat?









Flour. Everywhere. 

















