A-DOOR-able Story #1 of 3: When you buy a dog a door

 We've had the same screened-in storm door for the thirty years that we've lived in this home...

("You know, the old Wolf place." 

"Nancy, we've lived there for three decades, when does it become the Mosiman place?")

which means that that door may have been installed some twenty to thirty years BEFORE that. 

It wasn't the sixty or more years of accumulated dirt and dust that coated the screen like a shell that compelled us to get a new one. We were pragmatic. We lived on a dirt road frequented daily by a slew of passing tractors and farm trucks. It was the cost of living in the country.

It wasn't the bent, broken, squeaky, rust-stained door that had us thinking of up-grading. We wouldn't want the neighbors to think that we were putting on airs. "Next thing you know, they'll be posting a Buckingham Guard outside that fancy door of theirs." 

Nor was it the often-fixed but seemingly always broken handle that we'd just grown accustomed to snagging and securing, more-or-less shut, every time we entered or exited the house.  It was just another quaint quirk of the house. 

No...it was the dog that inspired our upgrade.

A thirteen-year-old dachshund with liver disease and a brittle backbone...slowed with age, grounded by her now-limited mobility so she that is no longer able to scramble to the top of our furniture to peer out windows and protect our home. Her medicine had robbed her of her hearing. Add to that the recent passing of her best buddy, and we began to worry about Chlo's spirits and sense of purpose. "She loves looking outside," I fretted, worriedly watching her slowly move from one room to another. Brad agreed that a full-view door might do the trick in enhancing the life of our dear little friend.

So it was that we soon found ourselves at Ratchet World, standing in front of an endless wall of options. We whittled our choices down to the Andersen 3000, full-view/half screen and the Andersen 4000, full view/full screen. "How does this work?" I mused, approaching the 3000. I was wary and well-versed in switching "to screen."

"We need the long-handled screwdriver," I would first be instructed. I would dash off on my errand, knowing it wasn't going to end well.

"The other long-handled screwdriver," Brad would sigh, exasperated. I would stomp off to make the switch.

Bracing ourselves for the inevitable, Brad would dig the long-handled screwdriver past the long-broken latches that worked the sliding feature for the screen. Mechanism engaged, we would pry our fingers into the sides to catch hold of the screen to try and coax it up...our blood providing the lubricant necessary for it to eventually slide into tenuous place. 

Brad stepped closer to the 3000 and read the instructions. "Pinch this clip at the top and pull down," he advised. I did it. We gasped. This was incredible. A marvel of human engineering. We had, apparently, been living like cave people.

We raced over to the 4000 that boasted a 45-second turn-around from screen-to-storm. "It says something about a button on the side and inverting the handle vertic..." I paused as Brad effortlessly swung the panel out...well under the posted 45-second deadline. What magic was this? What were we going to do with all our spare time? 

Now for the decision:  3000 or 4000. When it comes to Chlo, naturally, cost doesn't matter. "The 4000 with its full screen would afford Chlo the greatest all-around sensory satisfaction," I began. "Do go on," my husband encouraged, not accustomed to any sort of pro-home-improvement argument from me. "Not only would she have an unrestricted, all-access view to the outside...she could also bask in the breeze and smell all the fun and interesting outdoor-related aromas." Brad nodded. "And what are your thoughts about the 3000?" he wondered. I sighed. "If we were to look, far off, to the future arrival of an additional fuzzy little friend, the half screen is ideal as it is out-of-reach, damage-wise." Brad, of course, had already thought these points through. "So...what do you want to do?"

I am well-aware that it was ridiculous to be standing in the aisle of Ratchet World, agonizing about the purchase of a door for my dog. I knew that the mature, responsible choice was the Andersen 3000. It was the practical decision. Alas...I am not a practical person. Every day that I have with my little dog is a gifted blessing and if I can add any additional smidgen of happiness for her on each of those remaining days...then that is what I want to do and how I want to spend my money. She is our treasured companion and deserves to be treated as such.

"The 4000 it is then," declared Brad, who had made his decision pretty much upon his arrival to the endless aisle of doors. "What?" he said, as I stood there, staring at him. "I thought you presented a gripping open and shut case." 

The reality of what we were about to do struck me as we walked back out to the car. "Now we have to install it," I said, glumly, anticipating the drama involved in that endeavor. "Installing a door should be no problem for you," my husband grinned, "You love to make an entrance!"