A friend of mine, when a young boy, spent a summer with his siblings at his grandmother’s house on the beach. She let them have all the freedom a beach house promises. They could play games from morning to night and run in and out of the house with sandy bare feet, screen doors slamming behind them. But she had one rule she expected them to abide by: Keep the dog out of the kitchen.
Now this was harder than it first seemed. The kitchen had a back entry and an entry off the hall, so there were two doors to watch. And the grandmother had a big, strong, furry dog who loved the cool of the kitchen floor, the lovely aromas from cooking, not to mention the respite the kitchen provided from four energetic children down at the beach. He was as determined to get into the kitchen as the grandmother was to keep him out.
My friend, being conscientious, spent a lot of his summer enforcing this rule.
