The story goes something like this-
"All right guys. I'm turning in by eleven tonight."
"Ugh. Kaine is pacing. Everyone remind me that I let him out. I'll kill him if he runs away again."
Opens the deck door. Whistles. Calls for mischievous mutt. Closes door.
"Did Kaine ever come back?"
And so it began.
Lee walked through the property. I resumed whistling, shook dog bones in the bin, banged on idiot beast-dog's dish. My mom called from the deck. On and on and on.
|Dog chasing evidence|
At 11:45 p.m., we all swore that if he wasn't dead, we'd kill him as soon as he returned.
Seething with fury, shaken with worry, entirely exhausted, I opened the door to escort the guilty mongrel to his bed. He'd tired from his vagabond rompin' and had returned for sustenance and the comfort of home.
And then we saw it. Or didn't see it. His stupidly expensive Invisible Fence collar was G.O.N.E., lost in the wilds of his 2-hour adventure.
Why is he still alive today, well past the hangover of morn, you ask?
You know. When a dog runs away- such a gamut of emotions. Oh we wanted to kill him. Really we did (well not really but DANG, dog!). Because he makes us worry so much. Because no one can go to bed until he's safely returned. Because he keeps DOING this over and over again. Because he insists on going rogue right before we want to go to bed. Every. Time.
But I'm a little less furious today.
First off, as much as we wanted to shun him to an outdoor doghouse forever, we were secretly thrilled that he was finally home safe.
I'd remembered watching him chase after something that ran into an old gutter the other day. Lo and behold!
And we're golden. The day moves on. The dog is spared...and reconnected to the ELECTRIC fence that I can only pray keeps his devious arse inside the property bounds from now on. But who am I kidding?
We didn't kill him. He isn't even grounded anymore. We're such pushovers. He's back to running this place and chilling on his orthopedic foam mattress, stinking up the joint with his kickin' breath and silent but deadly rips.
Isn't it amazing how you can love a stinkin' trouble-makin' good-for-nothin' beast dog enough to forgive him for such antics? Geez.
Until the next time...he's wired.
What are your coping strategies when your pets run away? Ain't it the pits?!?
XOXO From My Hearth to Yours