It also happens to be the most terrifying (maybe Pete was on to something?) part of the entire house to the dog. I'm like, "Let's go outside, Ernie!" And he's all, "Hells yea!" while booking it down the stairs, And then he runs toward the back door, skids to a stop, squeaks in fear and runs full force in the opposite direction and back up the stairs. So now I precariously carry 50 pounds of squirming dog over an open threshold several times a day. What's that? Why don't I go out the front door? Well that's currently blockaded off as we poly coat the floors. So back door tightrope walk it is! Did I mention there's live electrical wires down there? I know, I know. I didn't think it could get any better either.