The culprit: Logan, age 4, The victim: Buddy, age 2
Scenario: My kitchen, weekday morning, shortly after getting kids off to school
One morning when Logan was around age four, I returned home after dropping her off at kindergarten. I remember it was a busy morning and I had bills to pay, phone calls to make and cupcakes that needed to be made for a school function, (that was before I realized store bought are just as tasty and the kids don't know the difference). After fueling up with coffee, I started about my tasks and noticed a scratching noise. Undaunted, I listened for a minute but it stopped, (hmmm.... so now I was imagining things? What was in that Folger's anyways)? I continued with my phone calls, (and other drudgery), when I noticed the scratching noise was back. What could it be? Mice? (Surely Mickey wouldn't be so cute if he and his family decided to take residence in my home). Mental illness? (Was this the beginning of my slow descent into hearing imagined voices that would lead to my hospitalization)? Ghosts? (whom does one even call for an exorcism anyways?) After hearing it on and off long enough I decided to do the logical thing and be quiet and follow the sound. It led me to the bottom kitchen cabinets and when I opened the door there sat little Buddy politely scratching amongst the Tupperware! (ummm.... yeah, not the brightest bulb on the tree.. here's a hint, Buddy, try barking next time). Turns out, Logan, thought he would like having his own secret little hideaway and decided to show him his new clubhouse before leaving for kindergarten. And that my friends is how Buddy, ("came out of the closet"), was lovingly rescued by none other than me. It's amazing how tolerant pets are when it comes to their humans!
Thank you to the very sweet Kai, of All Kinds of Complicated for featuring Inspired Design
yesterday in her Blogs to Love series. here
Williams-Sonoma gift card giveaway! Enter here
