Daily Adventure

I thought that kids only played in open fire hydrant streams on Sesame Street and in Spike Lee movies. However, I was wrong. When I went to Williamsburg this afternoon for my music lesson, there were no less than three hydrants that had been relieved of their caps and were sending raging streams of water into the street. The temperature was almost to the century mark and there were dozens of kids romping around in the splashy street. I was totally jealous. If I didn't have a cello strapped to me, I would have joined them.

In other news, while I was at my lesson I left doggy home by herself to bask in the air conditined coolness. I practiced our usual low-key departure routine so as to not get her all riled up. I made a peanut butter-filled Kong for her to lick, I left some NY Times by the door for her to toss around. I slipped out quietly and returned after my lesson, about 90 minutes later. As I came up the stairs, I heard her bark a big-dog bark. I expected to open the door, and to find her usual "I've read the paper" mess that she leaves us. Which I did:

But I found no doggy. No wiggly, crazed animal to greet me. Then I heard a bark and and a yowl and scratching from... inside the bathroom. That crazy animal had somehow gotten herself locked in there, and proceeded to freak the hell out. I opened the door. She came rushing out and scrambled around in her torn papers. And then proudly told me all about how she accomplished the following during the time she had been stuck in the bathroom:

1) tore my new bra in 2 seperate but equal parts

2) ripped exactly 4 new holes in a perfectly good towel

3) slobbered all over and chewed a new(ish) pair of underwear to an unreconizable state

4) dumped and scattered the contents of the trash bin

5) chewed corners of aforementioned trash bin

6) bled a little bit on everything.

Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I present you with photo evidence: