So for the last few days we've been repeatedly losing our son. It's not hard to guess where he is when he disappears - it's always the same place.
Out the dog door!
He discovered this little trick a week or so ago and has become completely enamored with it. So much so that we've had to start keeping the door closed, which has caused Bogart to perfect the art of wedging his nose between the slider and the dog door insert and sliding the real door open himself. (Which of course, defeats the purpose.) We've also had to cover our little concrete back porch in the old patio cushions (and one very ugly old couch cushion from our trailer) in order to stop Nolan's fall when he dives head first out the dog door. (Mom & Dad had a hard time accepting the scraps and blood flow coming from his nose. He, on the other hand, apparently thought it was worth it!)
So we've dubbed him "the tank" whose ongoing mission is apparently to charge forward at all times. (Oh, and to carry as many things as possible out with him... is that my sweeper??)