Damn, Basset Hounds are Stupid, Volume 641

This afternoon, I stepped outside to make a phone call. Not because I needed to have a private conversation. I was the only one home. I went outside, because AT&T can't find a way to provide a wireless signal that reaches into my house. I couldn't live in a more central, busy part of town, by the way.

When I came back in, there was 50 lbs of Basset Hound in my chair. I knew I could walk over, yell at her to get down, and it would take her a full, sad 30 seconds to climb out. Or I could try to drag her dead weight out of the chair by her collar. That wouldn't have been good for either of us.

Then, I had a stroke of genius. I shut the door and hit the doorbell. She ran to the door barking at the perceived visitor, even though she had just seen me shut the door.