Pumpkin's Escape

We were enjoying a peaceful Sunday afternoon. The kids were playing outside:


and Pumpkin was sprawled out on the deck, enjoying the cool breeze:


When the kids are playing outside, we often let him go out into the fenced backyard, because until today, it's never been a problem.

All was well until Cakes shouted across the hills, "Mommy! Bad pants again!" I hauled her inside and peeled off her jumper, to find that she had pooped all the way down both legs, and somehow, up the back of her shirt. I have never understood how children can defy gravity in this way.

I had just stripped her down, and was attempting to clean her up, when Bee came thundering through the house, yelling, "MOM! Pumpkin jumped the fence! Pumpkin jumped the fence!"

I ran outside, leaving the sliding door open, and saw Pumpkin sniffing around under the crab apple tree. I pleaded and cajoled and begged for him to come back inside. I offered treats, and even free reign over my side of the bed, and yet he was unmoved. I tried sneaking up on him, but each time I got near him, he would inch away, just out of my reach. Finally I took a flying leap, but I only managed to grab his tail, and knock the wind out of myself. He scuttled away under the big spruce tree, and peered resentfully at me through the branches.

Fed up, I yelled for my husband, who was painting our new front door. He heaved an irritated sigh, put down his paintbrush, and stomped around to the backyard. "Come on Punky," he said casually through the branches. "Let's go inside." He made a c'mon-type motion with his hand and started walking toward the house. I stood by skeptically, thinking, "Oh right, like this is gonna work." To my great surprise, Pumpkin bolted out from under the spruce, leaped over the fence, and went back in the house through the open sliding door.

I was dumbfounded. Is my husband some kind of Pied Piper of cats now or something?

My husband went back to his work, and suddenly it dawned on me that I had forgotten about Cakesie, who was still completely naked, and covered in poop. As you know, Cakes must never be left unattended, even for a moment. NEVER.

Just as cold fear began to creep into my heart, I heard her little voice.

"Mommy, look-a-me!" she exclaimed gleefully. She had come outside while we were all running around after the cat, and was now happily swinging, buck naked, and yes, still covered in poop.

Sometimes I wonder what the neighbors must think of us.