Greyhound racing

Did you know that greyhounds can run at 45 kmph? And that the average almost fit woman runs at 10kmph.
This morning I was relaxing in my bath, about to drink the tea that my very darling hubby had brought me on his way out to work when there was an emergency shout from the kids:
"Bella's out!"
Bella is incredibly stupid about a lot of things ("come", "down", "stay" "this is MY food, not yours") but is very talented at opening doors. We have been trying to keep the front door locked to prevent her egress, but somehow this morning there was a momentary lapse in our fortress-like security and Bella took the gap.
I leapt out of my bath and threw on a robe, hurried to the balcony and stood there clutching it tight for decency and screaming "Belllllaaaaa!" down the street as the kids all pelted down the road after her. Did I mention that one of the things she doesn't do so well is the come command?
So I threw on some clothes (note - was still wet), didn't even take time for deo (37 deg out there!), and joined in the race. After 10 minutes Steph and I came back to the house and fetched the car while the boys continued to pant in pursuit.
It took us 35 minutes to catch the hound.
My tea was cold. And my bath. And my hair had dried in the most interesting way.
Tonight Darrell spent changing door handles (unsuccessfully) and putting up internal gates (success here) to prevent future eruptions by Bella. He mentioned something about wanting to watch the rugby - sorry my hubby!