Last night, our puppy Austin escaped. This is not the first time he’s gotten out. In fact, he manages to get out in the front yard about once couple of weeks. I bet he’s escaped 8 or 10 times in the 4 months we’ve had him. Usually it’s because the kids let him out of his crate before I am in the house. I’ve gotten to where I don’t chase him down. For one, my big pregnant butt just cannot catch him, and two, he always comes home after just a little while. And three, he does not come when called, and I get super frustrated with him which causes my blood pressure to rise and the word freaking to come out of my mouth at an alarming rate, and then eventually my 5 year old says freaking and I have to hang my head in shame that he totally learned that word from me. So I don’t chase the freaking dog. Last night, when I took the trash out to the garage and realized just as Austin bolted that I had forgotten to close the garage door, I didn’t panic. When he wandered home about 5 minutes later and I almost caught him but he got away again, I didn’t panic. I did, however, start to worry about an hour later when Derek and I were getting ready to go out with friends and Austin still hadn’t returned home. I filled the baby-sitters in on the Austin situation, went out on the town and had a great time with friends, and fully expected to find Austin at home when we returned.
He wasn’t there.
It’s now 10:30 Saturday night and he’s still not home. He’s been missing almost 30 hours, and at this point, I am just not sure if he’s coming back. Tomorrow I will be putting up signs around the neighborhood, and Monday I will begin making phone calls. It sure would have been good if I had gotten around to putting official tags on him, or even gotten around to putting on his rabies vaccination tag that is sitting right here. Yeah, that makes me feel like a really responsible pet owner.
If Austin never comes home, I will forever live in a fantasy world where he found a fantastic new home with a family who loves him, plays with him, and teaches him to come when called. He’ll live in a magical land where he has fresh sausage and bacon to eat and sleeps like a king on a bed curled up at someones feet. His new owners will never use the word freaking nor stupid in reference to him. It will be much like the fantasy in my heart regarding Dexter and Drake, may they rest in peace.
I sure hope he comes home. I miss the little guy.