My dog can do many wonderous things. Unlocking the car door from the inside? Not one of them.

I’m not sure what it is about me, but what should be simple tasks always turn into epic adventures. This was certainly the case today.


Honey needed to go to the vet this morning and I volunteered to take her. She’s a 15-year-old German Shepard cross and I love her to bits. We got her when I was five so I guess it’s fair to say we grew up together. She slept on the end of my bed every night until she decided she was too old to jump up anymore.


The last time I accompanied her to the vet she was very sick and all curled up on the front seat of my car. That was not the case this morning. This morning she was very excited and keen for adventure.


With the right background music convincing Honey to get in to the car would have made quite a funny black-and-white chase scene. I let her in to the house with the intention to fix her to her lead, only to turn around to find her gone. I poked my head out the front door to see her running to down the driveway, closely followed by mum who was yelling at her to stop. Never mind that Honey is completely deaf.


It took some convincing but I finally managed to manoeuvre Honey in to the car. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to find that she wouldn’t give up that easily. I was now faced with a debate over which seat she would sit in. You see, she had decided that the driver’s seat was her choice. I however felt that I should be sitting there, me being the one with the car keys and licence. Honey didn’t agree.


Luckily with a fair amount of bargaining and promises to let her sleep on the clean laundry (her favourite past time) she acquiesced. The rest of the trip went without a hitch. It wasn’t until after paying the exuberant price for the ointment she’d been prescribed by the vet and making our way back to my car that things became… well complicated.


Honey did not want to get back in to the car. She was much too preoccupied sniffing the other animal smells, she would not be convinced. Heaving a sigh of frustration I dumped the armful of things I was carrying in to the centre console. Grabbing her around the middle, I managed to manoeuvre her squirming body in to the car. Honey hates being picked up, even as a puppy she would thrash around until you put her back on the floor. The look that she gave me as I wound the window down a turn and closed and locked the door on her could easily rival the dirty look of any human female.


As I pushed the door closed I had a niggling feeling of something not being right. I looked down at my empty hands. The passenger side door was locked. The drivers side door was locked. My keys were in the centre console. Honey was in the passenger side seat looking out at me, ears up in interest.


I felt my stomach drop, and the words “Oh shit!” scrolled across my mind marquee style. My immediate response was to call for help, my hand flying to my pocket. It was empty. My phone was in the car too. After some creative cussing I decided to take action.


The window was down just enough for me to slip my arm in up to my forearm. I tried to push it in further, just enough wind the window down a scratch. After about five minutes of this I realised it wasn’t going to be possible.


My arm was burning and Honey was still sitting on the front seat smiling out at me, clearly enjoying the show. Fingers of panic were starting to creep up my spine, tears prickling behind my eyes. As far as I could see I had two options; manage to squeeze my arm through the window or return to vet surgery and ask for help. The second option wasn’t particularly attractive, not only would it be mortifying but it would mean leaving Honey unattended.


I decided to try the arm through the window one last time. My car is the type with the lock next to the door handle rather then near the window. I realised with a little bit of feeling around I could brush the lock with my fingers, this was accompanied by a surge of hope. With a few more tries, biting my lip against the pain my arm was in, I was finally able to push the lock.


After retrieving the keys I collapsed onto the driver’s side seat shaking with adrenaline and rubbing my quickly bruising arm in self-pity.


I looked over at Honey, worried that the time alone in the car may have stressed her. The look I got in response was one that clearly summed up what she was thinking “That’s what you get for picking me up. Way to go jackass”. I can’t say that I disagree.