Dirty Dogs

I finally got around to doing my tax return over the weekend and idly considered putting “Canine Door Operator” on the line where the IRS wants to know your occupation.  But since I figured they have no sense of humor, I decided against it.

A while back I actually went to the trouble to purchase a suitably-sized dog door to allow Boots (and now Malcolm) unfettered access to the outdoors.  However, before I went to the trouble to hack a hole in the back door to install it, I came to my senses.  A door large enough for the dogs is also large enough for a person.  And given her behavior with regards to the door, I fully expected to find Boots sitting there with her head holding it open so she could watch the birds and squirrels.  Further, as it already costs a (metric) butt load of cash to cool this place in the summer, the last thing I need is a doggy-accessible portal to 95° air.

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