Prison Break-out!

So. I guess you are all wondering what happened yesterday regarding the T.O.Y. event. I'm not actually sure how to report it.

The bare bones of the matter are this: at approximately 19.10 last night Dylan entered the pub carrying a T.O.Y. To be precise it was the larger of our two soft and honky long dog toys (we have a small one as well, which I seem to remember got it a bit tight one day and is currently awaiting surgery). Mum expressed intense surprise, but concluded that it must have been a rogue toy that had been hidden somewhere and not locked away in Toy Prison with the rest of our belongings.

She removed said T.O.Y. from Dylan and put it on the high shelf in the bar (which, by the way, I had to sadly conclude was not reachable - you should have seen the risk assessment on piling up miscellaneous items and climbing up ro rescue toys!).

Dylan left the pub in a high dudgeon. I resumed my blogging activity.

At approximately 19.14 Dylan re-entered the pub with Another T.O.Y. This time the cheeky beggar was mouthing my (personal use only) giraffe bone! I have had this since I was a mere pupster and it is precious to me. Naturally, I had to retrieve it from Dylan's jaws.

Unfortunately Mum noticed. She then decided the sudden appearance of Another T.O.Y. required investigation and went upstairs. We followed.

Shock horror! The Toy Prison Door was ajar! Actually it was open by a good 8 inches! There was a pile of toys spilling out all over the floor! Mum questioned Dad who claimed no knowledge of this event. I, of course, had been downstairs with Mum at the time of the Prison breach.

All eyes swung to Dylan who stood there wagging his tail in a stupid manner.

Much discussion followed. Mum said it must have been Dylan, and Dad seemed inclined to agree. Dylan was keeping very quiet. I said that Dylan was just not capable of such derring-dos. How would he have opened the latch?

And then I remembered something. A few days ago I had seen Dylan scratching away at the door. He was being very persistent. I put it down to stupid desperation for a toy and ignored him. After all, we had carried out a very thorough reccee of the door in the early days of the Campaign to no avail.

But. Is it possible? Did Dylan's persistence pay off? Had he weakened the latch? He does have long sharp claws, could he have gained leverage?

I am still leaning towards it being a lucky break, but every now and again I see the ghost of a smug smile of his face and I wonder. I really wonder.

Of course, there is no Hollywood ending to this story. The Toys are back in Toy Prison. We have cruel, unrelenting owners.

Oh and by the way "Rosie Posie" (if that's your real name). I have seen your comment and your tauntings are nought to me. I am stronger, far stronger than that.