This morning I picked up an 8-mos-old Pit Bull who I am dogsitting this weekend. She is a velvet soft bubble of too much energy. Also, she can leap 5' into the air, which I discover later.
After getting her set up in my kitchen, I snuck the ladies out to get some coffee.
Admission time, I am lazy. Given the choice between parking and going into a coffee shop and using the drive-through, I'll use the latter. Yeah, whatever.
I pull up to the window and am sitting there waiting for my beverage.
Is it a girl or a boy?
Without thinking, I respond in a horrified voice, I am NOT pregnant!
Which is not something I've ever been asked and only an off-planet deity can guess as to why THAT was my immediate response.
Confused, the guy responds, Um, I mean your dog. The one in the back seat.
And get this, readers, in my caffeine-deprived state, I actually pause and LOOK in the back seat as if somehow, someway, there is some novel dog sitting back there. Nope, just Mina and in the way back, Celeste.
Oh, Mina? Girl!
Geez, give me my drink already.
As to the screen door, thank Bree. That's the temporary house guest. I decided, hey, I'm a big girl, I can safely introduce a big puppy to Mina without much fanfare.
I navigate Mina to the backyard and as I was about to leash Bree in the kitchen, she sees Mina and is like HOLY CRAP A DOG I SHOULD GO SAY HI TO. And then she just ran into my screen door and tore it off its hinges.
It collapsed onto Mina's head, which pretty much ruined ANY chances that she would like Bree.
Bree has the social skills of a large boulder. Her idea of saying hi is to body slam a dog, then play bow, then ram her head into the head of the other dog, and then twirl in a circle, play bow, rinse and repeat. I am pretty sure she does not breathe the entire time.
So anyway, Mina ends up rammed against the fence, tail between her legs, petrified. Introduction nation failure.
And that is why my screen door is broken.