Who Let the Dog Out

Blackjack is a good dog. Most of the time. However he is not 100% trustworthy alone in the house so we crate him when we're at school/work. Here's how it goes:

Whoever is the last to leave in the morning puts the dog in his crate (he runs to get in when we say "crate it!" and waits for his treat, too funny). We give him a treat and lock the crate up, lock the house up and leave. I was the last one out the door yesterday.

Last night Steve got back from class, opened the front door and . . . no dog to be seen. The crate was wide open. Of course Steve thought I must have come home early. Nope. So he looks around and finds the dog . . . in our bedroom, laying on our bed, with socks, underwear, and bits of tissue scattered all around him. I remember giving him a treat this morning, but apparently I skipped that next step of LOCKING HIS CRATE!

This morning's poop provided evidence of just how much tissue he scarfed while enjoying his independence a little TOO much. Oops.