It's 5 a.m. It's Dark...And So Is Dex.

ThatManILove left early Tuesday morning to go out of town.

Like at 4 a.m.

And Dex the Wonder Rescue wanted to go outside.

We don’t let him go outside at 4 a.m., because the sprinklers are set for 4 a.m.  And he is more than a little sprinkler crazy.   He’s killed them more than once.  (He’s a little mixed up for a hunting dog.  The closest thing I can get to is that he thinks they sound like a rattlesnake when the water first starts to go through them.  But, I digress.)

So, a little after 5 a.m., when I’m sure the sprinklers have finished their run, I finally acquiesce.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

I’m stepping into the shower when I hear this crazy, shrieking, kind of screaming bark.  What’s so funny is that I recognize it.  It’s Dex.  We call it “His Injustice Bark.”

It's the one Dex uses when there is something he wants, really badly, and he just cannot have it.  Or reach it.  Or Zanna just.won’t.give.it.to.him. 

That kind of bark.  And we live really close to the neighbors.  Who are going to think somebody might be dying. 

And Zanna's not even outside.

Zanna?  Is in the bed under the covers.

I get chill bumps.  The kind that run up the back of your neck.  Then down your arms.

Yeah.  Those.

I run outside.  But it’s dark.  And I can’t see.

So I don’t know if it’s a skunk. (God, I hope not.) Or a fox. Or a snake.  Or what.  I have no clue.

I go to the kennel.  I can hear him, but I can’t see him. 

I run inside to get a flashlight.

I did tell y’all I’m in my pajamas, right?  No shoes?

I grab the flashlight, and head back outside.  I head to the kennel.  Again, I can hear him, he’s rattling the kennel, but I can’t see him. 

I shine the light that way.  No Dex.

I shine the light inside the kennel. No Dex. 

I can hear him.  And the kennel is shaking like there’s an earthquake.   I think, oh, no – he’s inbetween the kennel and the fence.

Nope. No Dex.

And then…something moves to my right.  Right beside my head.

Y’all, our kennel is 8’ tall with the cement footer.

I jump back.

I shine the flashlight up there. I look.  I look again.

DEX IS UP ON TOP OF THE KENNEL.

And all that is on top of the kennel is netting.  And a 60+ lb. German Shorthair.

Needless to say, the kennel is quickly is losing integrity and quickly folding in on itself, because the netting is zip-tied to the sides of the kennel.

I try to get him to the edge of the kennel, but the netting is giving way.

I grab a lawn chair, stand up on it, and try to entice him to the side.

He gets to the side, puts his paws on the bar, and looks down at me, then at the ground.  He looks at me like, “Are you KIDDING ME, MOM????”  and backs away from the edge.

I’m praying.  Hard.  And thinking.

“Want a treat, Dex?”

Here he comes again.  I grab his collar.

Then, I think.  Ruh-roh...If he comes right at me, I could really get hurt.  We could both go over in this chair.

Or he could take me down to the ground.

Oh, no!  Here he comes!

Dex launches off the railing.  He sails over my head.

He lands without incident, trots around my chair, and heads back to the kennel.  I got down from the chair, grabbed his collar, and somehow got him back into the house.

I didn’t kill him.  He didn’t kill me.

The kennel, though leaning and seriously damaged, is still standing.

I have zero idea how Dex climbed up there.  He was one small step from walking over the fence to freedom.  One step from getting into the wires that are hooked to the telephone pole.

Y’all want to know what he was barking and yelping about?

Itty bitty geckos.

Yup.

Lizards, y’all.

LIZARDS.

It’s never boring around here.