And we have a dog because…?

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Our dog ran away this morning.

It was my fault, really, but we won’t dwell too much on that point.
Suffice it to say that with hair still wet from a shower and my two daughters still scampering about the house in their jammies, I regrettably became aware of his absence.  Dumb dog.  So my beautiful, relaxing morning was abruptly switched to “we need to get out of the house NOW” mode.  I took a deep breath and plunged in.

First I had to wrestle the baby into a clean diaper and some clothes.  She put up a pretty good fight, but I declared myself the winner and began to hunt down my two-year-old.  I found her easily enough, rounding the corner  into the room with blood all over her face and hands.  Great, another nosebleed.  I dabbed impatiently at her nose while making a mental note to buy a filter for the humidifier, all the while imagining the miles and miles of terrain that our pooch was covering with each minute that ticked by.  Thankfully, the nose cleared up quickly and we were on our way again, stuffing feet in shoes, maneuvering coats onto wriggly arms, and lugging the monstrous double stroller up the basement stairs.

I flew out the door with children in tow, flung them into the stroller (okay, not literally), and set off in hot pursuit.  Half running, half walking, I made my way down the nearby alley, self-consciously calling out his name—not because I actually thought he’d drop everything and come bounding at the sound of my voice (ha! that would be the day); no, because it’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re out looking for your lost dog.

We turned onto the next street over and I began scrutinizing every yard.  To anyone watching from a window, I must have seemed terribly suspicious.  I regretted that I couldn’t make the vacant leash more obvious, but alas…my daughter insisted on holding it herself.

Finally, I glanced across the street and noticed a flash of brown and black.  Was that…Could it be…?  Yes!  I began running awkwardly with my train of a stroller, frantically calling out his name.  His head popped up.  He looked me straight in the eyes.  Was that a smirk??  And with that, he spun on his heels and lolloped off down the sidewalk, thoroughly pleased with himself and loving every second of this fun game.

Thankfully, some dogs in a nearby yard distracted him long enough for me to slip his leash on.  After that, he walked home like a stupid, perfect little angel.

Apparently my dog wants to be walked more.

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