Dudley locked himself in the bathroom

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J. Dudley Gilbert spends part of his time in the bathroom with the door shut. It’s roomier than a crate, and sleeping on the cool tile is more appealing to him than a fleece blanket in a wire cage. Hey, we don’t care. He’s in an enclosed space where limited destruction can occur.

When Dudley is ready to get out of the bathroom, however, he stretches the full length of his now 16-pound 6-ounce body up the door, scratching and whimpering, then howling to be set free. If he truly does need to get out, the cacophony lasts awhile. If he’s just tired, and simply doesn’t want to be alone, the protest is short, and he’s asleep within seconds.

I had rigged a towel over the door to protect it (too late), and somehow, the combination of the cloth stretched over the inside lock was taut enough to provide pressure to push in the lock mechanism.

Uh oh.

Richard and I fell into our proscribed roles. He brought out the tool bag. I called the onsite manager of the condo building, and Stephanie, who showed up immediately, added to the excitement (Dudley likes Stephanie).

The ensuing 15 minutes resulted in rising anxiety that Dudley was starting to pick up on.

Richard was THIS CLOSE to breaking down the bathroom door.

I called the closest locksmith, who had me send him a picture of the door handle.

“Oh good,” he said. “I was hoping this would be that kind of door.”

He then advised us to poke a hanger through the hole near the handle and unlock the door.

It worked.

Dudley’s speaks

Uncle Chuck told my humans I should have a say in this space, and he’s right.

My question to you dogs out there:

What is the dumbest thing your humans have done through the years, and how did you manage them?

J. Dudley Gilbert, a very good boy