I'm a terrible mother.

I rushed home from work this evening to check on the puppies. It's been so cold outside that we haven't been able to put them in the backyard, so they were cooped up in the house all day. (Not really "cooped"--there is a doggy door. But they're quite domesticated and don't usually go outside unless necessary.)

There they were, safe and sound. The house had suffered minimal damage, considering a 7- and a 9-month puppy were bounding around in there all day. A few pillows in the floor (they love to try to drag pillows outside through the doggy door, but it usually takes them all day to do it), but nothing irreconcilable. Whew. Thankfully, today was not a replay of last week, when I came home to shreds of paper all over living room...the pups had discovered my Frank Lloyd Wright coffee table book, and apparently they are not fans of the famous architect's work.

Unfortunately, I had to rush out again. So I refilled the food and water, stuffed Mally's Kong with just enough treats to keep her entertained for a couple of hours, and headed out the door--but not before rechecking the bedroom doors to ensure each one had been tightly closed. (They were.)

I was the first to get home afterward. One of the joys of my day is sliding open the pocket door between the laundry room and kitchen and bracing my body against the kitchen counter as my little girls leap toward me in unbridled exhilaration. Reunited! However, this time, only Mally was present for the homecoming.

At first unfazed, I scanned the backyard to see if Eshe might be lagging unaware amongst the flowers and squirrels. All the while, Mally leaped and barked about me in her usual manner. Then I heard it: that frightful little yelp, undeniably crying, "I'm in trouble, Mom!"

Oh no! My little Eshe (pronounced ESH-ee) was hurt! But where was she? Frantic, I imagined her trapped beneath a piece of furniture or paralyzed from a showdown with one of those pesky squirrels. I poked under tables and chairs. I checked the laundry bin. I peered outside into the dark backyard again.

Then I heard a terrified squeal from the back office and knew what had happened. I rushed down the hall to find my little baby trapped in the office! Somehow--still don't know how--she got into the room even with the door shut. Problem was, she shut the door back on herself and couldn't get out! Poor thing was trapped in a pitch-dark room with no way to get out and Mally scratching and barking on the other side. Both sides of the doors were scratched to pieces. But the worst part is that the little pup managed to uplift a patch of our month-old new carpet as well!

Sigh. Shane was not happy about the carpet. I was disappointed too but mostly relieved to see Eshe safe. I feel like a terrible mom! I can't help but wonder how long she was in there and what she must have been thinking.

Now I triple-check the doors.