Peanut Butter
Those that know me, and, yes, those who would prefer not to, know that my family had a canine tragedy which, thank god, was averted at the 12th hour. Make that 84th hour, actually. Out 10 year old chihuahua, Peanut, decided the grass is always greener on the other side of the pooper scooper. After all, we feed her dog food once a day. Why settle for that when neighbor's yards abound with an all-u-can-eat buffet of cat good? First gap in the gate when no one is watching and she's a fugitive on the run in search of all things smelly. Thing, is, she's not the brightest dog in the world, which may be related to a balcony sky diving adventure gone bad at 6 weeks of age, so she couldn't seem to find her way back home. Think Sassy, Shadow, and Chance with 1/10th the IQ and the directional sense that might, just might, be as bad as mine and you've got your saga. We were beside ourself with grief for those four days as we hiked in 98 degree 300% humidity conditions scouring, with the help of friends, a 5 square yard radius that includes foul smelling dumpsters, sizzling asphalt parking lots, mosquito infested drainage culverts and homeless people who, when questioned, averted their eyes and sealed their lips as though we were asking them for a loan and a place at their pad. While fighting away mental images of her crumpled dead body in some ditch or storm sewer, we made elaborate posters, handed out flyers offering rewards, called every vet, animal clinic, pound and SPCA, and even checked with the guys who have the dubious honor of scraping roadkill off the streets (Ugh. Can you imagine; "Johnny, what do you want to do when you grow up?" "I want to scrape decomposing flesh steeped with the stench of death off the roads and byways." Hmmm. Makes ya wonder, but I'm glad someone is willing to do it (and it's not me) and that Peanut wasn't a unwitting customer. So. Where was I. Oh yeah. So Lukas was standing on the corner of our street waving one of the posters with a forlorn expression on his face. SOmeone took note and went hunting and actually found the little Houdini! Like 6 miles away crossing heavy traffic amid snarling fits. They herded her to a house and trapped her between two garbage cans, then called us to come ASAP. (She's scary looking when she's upset. Makes Cujo look like Benji's nicer little sister.) We all piled into the car and sped to claim her--wondering if the miracle could possibly be true, hoping against but preparing for disappointment. Sure nuff, it WAS her--looking pretty good actually. She was as fat as a little sausage so she couldn't have been too starving. Anyway, a happy ending to a long and fur raising experience.