It was a raging winding day today. The news said gusts of up to 80 miles per hour, so I think that's what must have blown the door open while I was gone today. I drove up to the house after picking up the girls from piano to find the storm door standing wide open and the hinges bent and beyond repair.
As we entered the house, we were met by the large and welcoming smiles of two dogs and two cats, lounging in the living room like a happy family. Sunny, the greeter, met us at the door, and was shuffled dutifully outside without a complaint. Bloke also seemed genuinely happy to see us, until he realized that he was inviting us in the house, rather than the other way around. His face stood down to the "uh oh, I'm in trouble" pose and he dropped to the floor looking very sad. He trundled out, slow and sorry, indeed. The cats, completely unrepentant, were quickly tossed out and the search for damage began.
A quick survey of the house turned up only one box of breakfast cereal emptied and eaten. Surprisingly, no wet bathroom floors, no hair all over the furniture, no muddy paw prints, no cat paw prints in the butter dish, no trash rifled through, no blankets dragged to the floor, no rumpled beds, none of the usual signs of unauthorized invasion and accompanying frenzied search for treats and toilet drinking. It seems that the little buggers didn't even lay on the couch or beds.
They're sitting outside now looking hopefully in the windows. The consequences of getting in the house illegally are the same, whether they wreak havoc or not--they get tossed out on their collective ears. Sunny has started barking at the house and at Bloke. I wonder if he's regretting not taking liberties when he had the chance.