Dog Gone It!

11:30. We climbed into bed and settled in. My husband and I, both exhausted from a day of hurdles had just successfully booked flights for two trips. We had been meaning to do it for months, but life gets in the way.

He turned to me and said, "Honey, where's the dog?"

"She should be right here," I said peering over the edge of the bed. I was content with accomplishment and sank into my fluffy pillows.

"When's the last time that you saw her?" I couldn't answer that question, so I hauled my carcass out of bed and started searching the house.

Kiki, our collie-lab mix, is getting older. She often falls asleep somewhere in the house, and if it's her bedtime, she'll stay there. She's very quiet.

Hmmmmm, the last time I saw her was when I was outside doing the recycling. Satisfied that she wasn't in the house, I opened the door and called for her. No dog.

I put on my shoes and a sweater and went out into our quiet, dark and deserted street. Whistling and calling. No dog.

My husband, who would choose this dog over me in a crisis, joined me out in the street. When his whistling had no luck, he told me to call the police.

One might ask, why we would call the police? Well, we've been down this road before, and the last time, many years ago, she was found at the police department.

This is not to be confused with the time she dug herself under the fence, escaped into the neighbor's yard and took a tour of the neighborhood. I was 8 months pregnant, but I hauled the kids out of the pool (still dripping in our bathing suits) and combed the neighborhood frantically looking for her.

And that is not to be confused with the time some man called and had found her in the next city.

With this kind of record, I called the police. They didn't have a dog, but they did just see the Animal Control truck leave town. Gulp.

I called the Humane Society. They, of course, were closed, but they did have an "Animal Emergency" number. Was this an animal emergency? Considering my husband and his love for this dog, uh huh.

I dialed the number. After a few rings, the Animal Officer confirmed that indeed he had Kiki in his truck. He asked for our address and said he would bring her right home. Thank goodness!

The scary white van appeared. The officer, very nice, opened the door, and viola! Kiki bounded happily out of the Animal Control van. Her tail was wagging, her tongue hung out to the side--she had just been on her best adventure ever.