Fire Dog

I am sitting inside typing away on a paper that is due this weekend when I hear a dog barking outside. I know that my walking muppet of a dog is out back so I think nothing of it. A few moments pass, I continue to type what turns out to be a great line of graduate level B.S. when I hear a thumping at the sliding door. I pop up to let emmy in and I look at her with a curious expression because her face is all wet. I look outside...nope, it's not raining. I start thinking about what she could have gotten into...nothing comes to mind. So I take a step outside to only hear what sounds like running water. I turn towards the only possible producer, and yup...the faucet is on. Somehow this fluffball turned on the outdoor spicket and proceeded to play in it like it was a summer afternoon in harlem, circa 1955. I couldn't do anything but laugh, and turn off her oasis playground.