‘Rover!’ I called out, as the soaped-up terrier slipped through my fingers and went careening down the hallway away from me. ‘Get back here!’
He did not, in fact, get back to me. Instead, he flew past my husband and our two kids on the couch, leaving a trail of water and soap suds in his wake.
‘Dog get loose?’ my husband asked as I stumbled into the living room.
‘Obviously,’ I said, narrowing my eyes at him. ‘Can I get a hand here?’
‘I’m protecting the little ones,’ he said, nodding at our twins. They were fast asleep. ‘They might slip in the water.’
‘If anyone’s gonna have an accident around here…’ I grumbled. He grinned at me.
A sharp bark! rang out behind us, and I spun to see Rover standing in the doorway, legs splayed like he was ready to take off again.
No, not take off, I noticed with a frown. It was more like he’d planted them, so he could…
‘No!’ I shouted in realisation. ‘Bad dog!’
He shook himself violently, sending water flying around the room, dripping off the walls and coating the back of the couch. With an excited yip! he was off running again.
‘Do we still have that residential glazing quote? Melbourne… something?’ I asked my husband with a sigh.
‘Yeah, it’s in the drawer,’ he frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because there’s a non-zero chance that dog is going through a window,’ I huffed, trudging in the direction of the soap suds.
‘Make good choices!’ he called after me.
I rounded the corner, but the trail ran cold at the bottom of the glass stair balustrade.
‘Rover!’ I called into the house, stopping beside our heavy oaken bookshelf. ‘Rover, come here so I can dry you off… you little brat,’ I whispered to myself.
Another yip! to my left, and I quickly spun to look. My gaze gently drifted upwards.
Rover was looking down at me excitedly, wagging his tail like we were playing fetch.
‘No, Rover,’ I whispered, even though I knew it was too late. ‘Bad dog.’
The bookshelf began to tilt towards the glass staircase.