Behind closed doors

The following story is completely, 100% true, without any embellishment or fancy spin.


It's about my dog, Lulu, who is a model of perfect human behavior when she is indoors. Outdoors she has a free spirit, but indoors she is as civilized as the queen of England. (If the queen of England drank from the loo every so often.)


Lulu never chews up our shoes or claws at the floor boards. She doesn't jump on the furniture or tinkle on the carpet. She won't steal our food or eat our homework when we're not looking. When we are away, our house remains intact, exactly as we left it.


But yesterday I had to run home real quick-like from church because I forgot something. I raced through the front door and clomped down my wooden hallway in my clickity-clak heels. When I arrived at my bedroom door I was met with a most peculiar sight. A sight so peculiar it stopped me dead in my clickity-clack tracks.

Someone was sleeping in my bed.

And her name was Lulu.


I mean she was literally sleeping in my bed, peeps. Not to be confused with on my bed. In other words, her head was on my pillow, and her body was under my covers.

I repeat, under my covers.

And she was sound asleep.

I knew you wouldn't believe me so I kicked off my heels and tip-toed down the hallway to grab my camera and capture some photographic evidence.

But she suddenly awoke, darted out of my bed, and started acting like she was a . . . dog.

Kinda makes ya wonder, don't it? About who's been eating your porridge behind closed doors.