The puppies and I walked through the rain until we were thoroughly soaked and Wolfgang, poor Wolfgang, was even more bedraggled than usual, which prompted a man on the street to shout at me to feed my poor, starving rat.
When we got home, I locked the three of us in the bathroom and gave Stella a bath. The mud-pit at the dog park is fun but the pups seem to forget that if they partake in it, they're headed straight for the bath when we get home.
I got Stella out of the tub and managed to wrestle her out of the bathroom without letting her out of my grasp (once out of the tub, the pups' favourite place to roll is on our clean sheets.) I kicked the door shut behind me, to keep muddy Wolfgang contained the bathroom while I put Stel in her crate.
Only to realize, moments later, that the door was locked.
I phoned my Dad and told him in a shaky voice that I had locked Wolfgang in the bathroom and I couldn't open the door. He walked me through finding a wire hanger and straightening the end enough to fit it in the emergency-release hole in the door. It was only after I hung up the phone that I realized that he never asked me why Wolfgang was locked in the bathroom. I guess he's used to this sort of thing.
This is why I have furbabies instead of human babies. You lock your puppy in the bathroom and everyone laughs. You lock your kid in the bathroom and all of a sudden you're a bad parent. Though if emergency-release holes are standard on doors, I'm clearly not the only idiot who needs one.