When I got up this morning, I found Braska sitting by the back door corner. (Three doors in not enough space.) It kind of acts as our mud room for drying snowy dog feet and leaving snowy people shoes. During wet or snowy times, it's not a place we sit or stay.
But Braska circumvented the hall gate (really only meant to slow her down and cause enough noise for me to hear the girls getting up) found flashcards she loves, and apparently decided a seat with a view to the snow falling in the back yard was her pick.
When she looked up to see me, the remorse was obvious. Or her nose was itchy. Judgement call.
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