I turned to look. Ray had come charging through the dogdoor into the open door of the dishwasher which opens a cabinet length away. I yelled into the receiver, "Oh my gosh, Ray! Are you alright? Hold on, I'll be right back!"
I slammed the phone down on the counter and went to check on my stunned hound. The dogdoor ffffwwwwpppppped again and Murphy came in. I paid no attention to her as I checked Ray over for injuries. He seemed fine. I went back to the phone when I noticed the muddy pawprints. Everywhere. Murphy hadn't left the kitchen (thank God), she'd just been trotting around in circles checking on the status of her friend. When she saw that he was OK she started for the living room. "SIT, STAY" I yelled. Both dogs sat.
I picked up the phone and quickly made my appointment (the woman never asked, I didn't explain). The dogs waited paitently. I hung up the phone and went to get some towels. I gave Ray a cursory paw wipe ( I don't know how he manages to stay so clean) then started on Pigpen. Mud sticks to her like glue. I spent some time trying to wipe it off with a dry towel, then dampened one to give her a spongebath. She flopped over on her side to expose her muddy belly. I wiped and wiped and wiped, then tossed in the towel (ha!) and walked her home to Marva's.
By the time I returned to our kitchen, the heated floor tiles had dried the muddy pawprints. They were invisible. If I hadn't seen them for myself, I wouldn't have believed they were there. I went to get a bucket and mop. I sprayed the floor with some vinegar and water and watched as the muddy prints magically reappeared. It was like watching CSI when they spray stuff at a crimescene and blood stains magically appear. I swabbed down the kitchen and thought, once again, how the large-undisclosed-amount-of-money-dog-door-project was worth every penny.