Seriously, Don't Fence Me In

I'm a dog.  A couple of weeks ago, Matt and Alicia bought some pretty tall dog gates to keep me in the kitchen. I'm happy to report that though it took me a few weeks, I've escaped their evil clutches.

While Alicia was away during the day leading her Hunger Games camp (ask her more about this) and Matt went into the District for work, I was trapped in the kitchen.  I wasn't yet ready to escape, but I used this time to plot and plan.  It was after camp that Alicia made her fatal mistake: coming home to shower before going out to Target.

It was during this quick trip home that I was able to analyze the gates from both sides and finalize my plan.  Here's what Alicia saw when she arrived home...

I greeted her at the door.
This clued her in that something was amiss.

She quickly noticed I'd pushed out the bottom
of the pressurized gate from the doorway.

She then turned her attention to the living room.

I'd attacked the box of plastic bags they use to pick up my poop.
The shredded box lay around the room.  Bags strewn every which
way. I also took (but didn't chew) a pillow off the chair.

I also chewed the sticky papers off the lint roller and nibbled
on the plastic handle/holder. Note one of the many piles of
plastic baggies and shredded cardboard box.

Finally, I removed Alicia's backpack from the chair and also
took my little travel backpack (holds my orange ball, extra
baggies, house keys, etc. when I go for walks) off its hook.

And that's all she wrote.  I left the furniture alone.  I didn't bother eating the magazines on the coffee table.  The handwoven basket, woven placemats and remote controls were left in their places undisturbed.  This wasn't about destroying Matt and Alicia's things.  This was about escape...and exacting revenge on the box of poop baggies, which have always had it out for me.

Mission: Accomplished*.

*Matt has since extra-tightened the pressure on the gates, and I haven't been able to escape a second time. Yet.