Thrill of the chase

The other morning a couple of cats jumped on the bed. Par for the course. But wait a minute, what's that. I heard a different sound, rolled over, and there was Dieter. "Hi mom."

Now, he's supposed to be contained downstairs, in a cat-free zone. But the human male didn't latch the dog gate properly, and our Mensa son the dog checked the latch. Oh, goody. It's open. I'm free.

Meanwhile upstairs, the chase was on. Cats are scattering everywhere. The dog is running around and laughing like mad. I jam on a pair of slippers and start pursuing the hound. I find him in the sitting area of the bedroom, tormenting the cowering cats. He also had managed to knock over and scatter things to get to the cats.

Only my head fits into the dining room. Why won't
those cats give me some cat food in exchange for
the opportunity to play with my toy?

Oh, but wait. Tormenting cats is fun, but downstairs in the off-limit room (AKA dining room, cat feeding station, dry cat food room...) is cat food. And if I really need to chase something, there are always plenty of squirrels and doves to chase. So, see ya, kitties--I'm off to the forbidden cat fruit. I desperately grab at  Dieter, but he escapes past me and clatters down the stairs. I'm nowhere near as fast as the dog, so by the time I arrive Dieter's managed to eat all the dry cat food and is doing a pre-rinse on the remnants of wet cat food left behind in the cat bowls.

Finally, I shut the doors to the living room and got the leash on Dieter. Before I could only wave it at him as he raced by.

At first I really thought perhaps the Mensa dog had figured out how to open a properly latched gate, in which case we would need to bring in an engineering team to outsmart the dog. But luckily after I latched the gate, Dieter remained properly contained, so I go back to my original culprit: the human male.