A certain young hambone unit has scared the ever-loving tar out of me. We just got back home.
I went to let him out to go potty, like every morning. Simple, elegant, it works. He goes out, and I work in the office nearby. This morning, he made the executive decision to run for the hills after slipping his collar off.
I have no clue how long the beastlet was gone. I was sitting here working. I opened the big garage door all the way to take out the morning garbage and poof. He was gone.
When we lived on the farm, I’d trained him to come to the car horn. It still works, thank Goodness, and that’s how I got him back. I drove through the neighborhood honking every half block or so.
He came a running out of the creek, and I let him in the car. 2 things. First, he was soaking wet, and stinking of nasty. 2nd, he set off the seatbelt alarm in the car Sighs..
We drove around for a bit, as his reward for coming back, but my heart rate went through the skyline and past the moon.
Once we arrived home, of course it was all my fault for letting him loose. So, for the foreseeable future, I will be grounded, at 50-
Needless to say, if this wasn’t the only game in town, I’d seek accommodations elsewhere. -L