Sidney strikes again, sort of

My brother lives with me. My little brother. And by that I mean he acts like he is still little. He is actually a full grown man of twenty-six. He makes a mess, I clean it up. I tell him no food in his room, by nightfall there's a stack of plates, 7 empty coke cans, and a taco bell wrapper on his floor. It's not easy folks.

I CAN say that when I ask him to mow the lawn (his one duty), it usually gets done within a two week time period. The good news is he works nights so it's pretty quiet around here come midnight. Having lived with him in the past, I know that my brother has the livelihood of a bat. Sleeps by day, lurks by night.

Now when I say that Sidney strikes again- I have to say that it wasn't really Sidney's fault. She is a creature of habit and by now we know pretty much every behavior she exhibits. She NEVER goes hungry, but if you ask her, she would say she is practically starved. She gives us a friendly reminder, oh, say, every hour that it just might be time for her to eat. This is done by her low growls, nudging her bowl at you with her nose, and then finally picking up her bowl and following you around the house until you give in and fill 'er up.

She is also very efficient in letting you know when it's time to "do her duty." That also consists of her following you around the house, and then upon your glance at her she leaps into the air in the general direction of the back door. That means it's time. And if it gets that far, it really means crunch time. She is so good at her built-in alerts that I have yet to find an accident in the house. Good dog Sidney!

Picture it. 8:30 A.M. I am still asleep and am pretty much dead to the world. Brother is just now getting home from work. He is nice in that he lets Sidney out back. This is where the story takes a left turn and heads the wrong way down a one way.

Brother goes to sleep. I wake up about an hour later. I notice right away that Sid is not in my room. She's not in the living room, dining room, or any other room for that matter. I check out the back window and there she is, panting like Richard Simmons after a heavy duty work out. I guess it was hot outside.

Now, before I continue, you should know that Sidney DOES NOT like to be outside without Dad, or some other family member for very long. I'm talking ten minutes max. While doing the math in my head of how long she must have been outside to be so breathless at this point, I open the back door.

What do I find?

I find the lower half of my back door laying next to Sidney in shreds. Yes, Sidney had eaten my back door. She wasn't hungry- oooooohhh no! Sidney must have had one of her full blown panic attacks.

Had I mentioned that Sid is on Prozac? Naturally that prescription is over at Dad's house- rendering it useless over here.

This wasn't Sidney's first rodeo with back doors. This was her fourth or fifth victim. Everyone knows not to leave her in the backyard for long. So when I say that Sidney strikes again- it's only sort of her fault. She should never have been left out there for so long. She's only a dog.

We blame brother.