She's contributing to my insanity. Today, I settled down at my computer to do some heavy duty thinking, and The Daddler appeared in my doorway. Complete with his USAF Retired cap. He said, "He got away."
"He", being Lucy. I had a biz call, and before I could beg off, The D had set off in the scorching heat in search of the prodigal daughter. This time, she headed in the direction of Walnut Grove, a major thoroughfare. He went that way and I headed to the park, in the opposite direction. I feel like a detective. I'm an expert at canvassing the neighborhood.
"Have you seen a small black dog?"
"Yes. She went that way."
"If you see her, will you grab her. She loves people and would never bite, but just in case, sign this waiver, please." Kidding about that last part. Kinda.
I've learned to grab a leash. The problem is deciding whether to run or drive.
We had a new twist today. As I was running and screaming, "Luuuucyyyy!!!", a woman appeared in her yard. She'd seen her. She said something about helping. Went back in the house and I heard her calling Lucy. I was confused. I didn't think she had the dog, but I was hoping she did. Turned out, her little girl was named Lucy. She jumped in her SUV, kids tucked in car seats, and we headed out, like bloodhounds. We saw The Daddler and she said he shouldn't be out in the heat. So I jumped out, shoved him into the front passenger street, and squeezed my way in between Lucy and FA (her brother), in the back seat.
At some point, we decided to divide and conquer. FA agreed to come with me. His mom and I discussed later the craziness of her releasing her firstborn son into the hands of a total (possibly lunatic) stranger. FA and I ran back to the Good House, in case the P.D. (Prodigal Daughter or Problematic Dog) had returned. Kiddo had just driven up. Said there was a message from the Pet Finder people. I called. Someone named Elizabeth, a few streets over, had Lucy (the dog), and had given her water and was sitting in her front yard, waiting for us. Kiddo gave FA a vitamin water and I scrambled up a plastic cup and a few precious ice cubes, and FA and I jumped in the van and began our mission. Think Navy Seal Team Six, Operation Neptune Spear.
Unlike Osama, though, Lucy came out unscathed. A little thirsty. And I followed FA's advice to put her in time out. A/K/A The Crate. I told The D not to give her any treats for the rest of the day. Kiddo informed me that dogs can only recall the last 10 seconds and that punishment is meaningless. I exercised restraint, and refrained from locking him in a cage. Actually, I would've, but I couldn't think of one. Damn. I should've confiscated his phone. But that would've been cruel and inhumane punishment. On that note, I'm going to google water-boarding...
Note the sarcasm. And the cynicism. And exhaustion. Frustration. Confusion.
Hopefully, hope will spring eternal. Or at least, a day or so. Over and out...
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