We were living at a downtown loft for five years. It had an extra security lock and hefty wood door. The lock was not accessible from the outside, which meant when you were inside that 1,028 s.f. Maintenance couldn’t come in when you were in the shower. That meant a lot to me.
In an “executive stay” hotel for a month in a new city, we looked for a place to live. This was shortly before we got our now-aging dog. No matter when I took a shower, whether 7 in the morning or five in the evening the maid came in.
Those intrusions and the lack of a car and walking to the grocery store and bank drove me bonkers. I went out and bought three styrofoam balls and pistachios and a hot glue gun and spent hours making a Christmas display! My husband still makes fun of me for those balls!
So the privacy lock was important, a year later, even with the herder who always keeps me safe.
One day I ran into a neighbor who’d had a baby that was now walking and they needed a bigger place so they were moving up to our floor. Their dog, Kat, was upset and barking at the movers so I offered to take her for a couple of hours to calm down and be out of the way (I took care of everyones’ dogs back then and no-one reciprocated). I took her leash and brought her into our home and immediately took Kat and Zoe out for a walk, which went well.
I also volunteered to take care of our neighbor’s dog, Shiner, at lunchtime. He was a Katrina rescue and a sweetie and I had their key so that if there was a thunderstorm (there were many severe storms and perhaps a hurricane on its way today) I would get him and he would burrow under my pillows, so sad.
Shiner and I went out for eight minutes. When I got back, I took him home and went next door and was locked out.
We had levered doors and Zoe knew how to get out, from a dear sitter who was injured taking care of another dog. People would just find her in the hallways and take her back to P’s when we were out of town.
I didn’t have my cell phone so went down to the office and said “I’m locked out.” They handed me the master key and asked me to have it back promptly. “No, I’m locked out.”
Two hours later, with the office and maintenance staff laughing at me for two years, they drilled through the door using measurements made from Shiner’s door (because I still had his key) and I had a privacy lock accessible with one key to both locks.
Kat was tall enough that when Zoe tried to open the door, she mimicked Zoe and flipped the privacy lock from the inside. So, the only door in the building with two visible locks, was ours. Which hopefully is helping the current resident with the sledge hammer incidents.
Poor J. This wonderful handyman spent over two hours trying to get me back in. I even suggested a lift to break a window and get in. No, he drilled and Zoe and Kat were fine and I’m sure this has made a good story for years. Dee The Dog Lady was locked out by the dogs. All’s well that ends well. Dee
Cooking with Dee 