A leather strap with bells hangs on the front door knob, inside our house. My grandpa, a trusting soul, used the old thing on his unlocked door to his kitchen, calling them, “my alarm system”.
When the dog needs to go outside to do his business, he rings them. The system works well. Our terrier rings when he wants to run around and play, too, but the majority of the time, it’s for a potty break.
The other day, I heard the bells. So, I started looking for one of our green dog leashes. My husband was putting on his shoes or something as we had decided to take the dog for a walk.
I located a leash after a few minutes of searching. I snapped it onto my terrier’s collar and stood up, ready to leave.
“Um, are we going to use two leashes to walk the dog?” My husband raised his eyebrows at me.
I investigated the dog’s collar again. Two trails of green streamed to the floor. In my rush to find a leash, I didn’t hear my husband hitch up the dog, nor did I feel the first hardware as I snapped on the second one.
I chuckled at myself as I unhooked the extra line. I grabbed my white cane. As we left the house, I pulled the door shut behind us, jingling the bells.