Being a Doggy Mama - Escape Artist

 

Well, last night was exciting.

Let me put it this way - within ten minutes of arriving home, in spite of a bottle of red wine and two glasses of Pimms and Lemonade, Fluffy Bear was 100% sober.

Why?

Because Puppy Dog was missing.

We had been to dinner at a friend's house and, as we walked up the steps to our front door, I was worried right away.

Three things:

• First, Puppy Dog wasn't standing behind the glass, tail wagging, greeting us.  He knows the sound of our car and he waits at the front door, guarding his den, whenever we go out.  
• Second, the cardboard piece that had been blocking the glass panel of our front door (which the dogs broke a few weeks ago) was sticking out.  It had been shoved out from the inside.
• Third, there was a strange bowl on the steps, with water in it.  

We went into the house and Puppy Girl ran out to meet us.

But no Puppy Dog.

Not in the bedrooms, not in the kitchen, not in the basement, not in the front yard, not in the back yard.

We were freaking out.

We walked around, calling him.

Then I thought I heard him bark, and the jingle of the tags that hang off his collar.

We ran back out the front and there was our next door neighbor, bringing him home.

He had found Puppy Dog on our front porch when he came home - about half an hour after we left - and he had slowly enticed our dog into his house.  Puppy Dog is a rescue, and he can get very anxious.  Our neighbor fed him and hung out with him, but he told us Puppy Dog's back legs were shaking the whole evening.

He was in the middle of telling us all of this when I lunged at him and hugged him.  I was so happy and relieved, I couldn't help myself.  The poor man.  He was very nice about it, but I think I almost knocked him over.

Puppy Dog was beside himself with joy to be back with us.  He jumped all over us - which he doesn't normally do - and licked us for about fifteen minutes after we got home.

We gathered around him and spent some time with our furkids, in our pack, appreciating our family.

Today we took our neighbor flowers, wine and a card.  I feel like it's not enough.

Thank God Puppy Girl didn't follow her brother out, because she wouldn't have hung out on the porch like he did.  She would've been off round the neighborhood, clomping along on her bandaged foot.  A car driving too fast, someone who felt like stealing a pretty dog, falling down the steep drops in the park near our house... there are a multitude of bad things that could've happened to her.

Fluffy Bear and I had a long debate about how Puppy Dog had got out.  I was convinced that it was through the missing panel in the front door, but he thought the open windows in the dining room were to blame.

Until this morning.

We left for our golf lesson and, as we got in the car, Fluffy Bear looked up to see BOTH dogs running towards us.  The windows weren't open wide enough for them to get out, so my theory about the missing panel in the front door was proven right.

As we led them back to the house, we engaged in a loving exchange:

Me:  "Say it!  SAY IT!"

Fluffy Bear:  "You were right."

Me:  "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Fluffy Bear:  "You heard."

Me:  "No, I really didn't.  What was it you said?"

Fluffy Bear:  "You were RIGHT, OK?  YOU.  WERE.  RIGHT."

Me:  "Thank you.  Now fix the damn door."

But it still wasn't over. 

As soon as we got to the golf range, I ran up to our pro and told him to greet my husband with a question.  As Fluffy Bear walked up to him, he went with my joke:

"Hi," he said.  "Who let the dogs out?"

Fluffy Bear laughed.  He's taken my shit for over ten years... I've trained him well.

But I kept the best for last.

Half an hour later, as he was lining up his putt, I let him have it, channeling the song by the Baha Men.

"Who let the dogs out?  Who?  Who-Who?  Who-WHO?"  

To read more in the Being a Doggy Mama series, click here.