Day before yesterday, it rained like whoa when I got out of work. Walking to the parking garage (about two and half blocks away from where I work) was a treat–and by treat, I mean it was horrible. It wasn’t just raining. It was pouring and in true Cindy fashion–my umbrella (that I borrowed from my mom the day of Zoey’s party and still haven’t remembered to give back. Go me) was in the Mommy-Mobile. In the parking garage. Two and a half blocks away. Needless to say, I was very wet by the time I got to the Mommy-Mobile.
But I DID remember to put on my sweatshirt jacket (it has a hood!) before leaving work. So, even though my sweatshirt was soaked, I was still in pretty good shape.
Then I had to pick up Zoey from my mom’s house. I didn’t want Zoey to get wet, so I dug out a receiving blanket from her diaper bag and Mom and I threw it over her head (we had to do it twice because the first time, Zoey thought we were playing peek-a-boo the first time). She kind of looked like one of Michael Jackson’s kids with the blanket on her head as we ran out in the rain. I hopped into the Mommy-Mobile and put Zoey in her car seat, where she proceeded to look out all of the windows with her mouth open and her eyes wide because I don’t think she’s ever seen rain like this close-up–and more importantly, in a car where the rain is surrounding her on all sides.
We got home without incident and oh my gosh, I was SO ready to get inside the house, work on making dinner and be out of the rain. Greg rushed out to the Mommy-Mobile to carry Zoey in the house while I grabbed all of the bags we have for a normal day (Zoey’s diaper bag, Zoey’s toy bag, my tote bag and my purse).
I was just a few steps behind Greg. Just a few! But apparently it was enough time for Scout to rush past him as soon as he opened the door. Because he had Zoey in his arms, he couldn’t try to grab Scout’s collar and because I was wrestling with the bags in the car, I had no idea any of this happened. By the time I turned the corner into our mud room and them stepped into our kitchen, Scout was long gone.
Okay, maybe I was more than a few steps behind Greg. Whatever.
So, I got in the house and Greg told me that Scout got out. Greg was on Zoey patrol since she was still in his arms, so I dropped all of the bags I was holding, erased the triumph I felt at still being only a tad wet from the rain and headed back outside to search for Scout.
My first inclination was to turn towards the cornfield since that’s where Scout had headed last time he got loose. But there was no sign of him, so I headed towards the front of the house and started shouting for him at the top of my lungs, competing with the heavy sound of the rain. I called his name; I promised treats. Nothing. No doubt our neighbors were wondering who the nutter was outside in the middle of such a storm.
No sign of Scout.
I walked to the back of the house, yelling for him the whole way. I stared at the cornfield at the very back of our lawn and called and called for him. Nothing.
I went back into the house, intent on grabbing my car keys and driving around the neighborhood–sort of a last resort since I wasn’t willing to admit that our bad puppy had dared to go any further than one of our neighbors’ houses. Zoey and Greg were watching me from the kitchen window and when I stepped inside, I told them my plan about driving around to see if I could find him.
And then Greg said, “He headed towards the cornfield.” Wait, what?
“As soon as he shot out the door, he headed straight for the corn.”
I love Greg to death, but OMG I would have LOVED to know that BEFORE I had stood in our driveway in the rain like a fool.
I grabbed my cell phone and car keys (just in case) and headed back out into the rain. Greg had told me that if I didn’t find him soon, we’d have to wait until the rain let up a little bit. The smart thing to do, no doubt. But I couldn’t do that because dogs can get hit by cars even in the rain. If we waited for the rain to stop, anything could happen to Scout. I didn’t want anything to happen to him until I got a hold of him. After that, all bets were off because OMG, didn’t we just go through this the other day?
I headed straight for the cornfield, calling for him as I went. Promising treats. Staring at the corn for a sign–any sign–of a black dog racing around.
When I got to the field line, I, for a quick second, thought about going in the corn. Only for a quick second, though, because the stalks were planted SO CLOSE together and I knew for a fact that as soon as I stepped into the corn, it would swallow me up and I’d never find my way out. And then I’d end up having to eat my own foot for nourishment and I’d never see Zoey go to kindergarten all because of that stupid dog. Plus, I wasn’t at all sure that going in the corn wouldn’t whisk me away to Narnia or somewhere else–it looked like THAT kind of cornfield. Also, there might be monsters living in there.
To be safe, I skirted the edge of the cornfield and stood at the corners of our backyard and our neighbor’s backyard.
I heard a bark.
And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of black.
I turned quickly and found Scout prancing around a wood pile at the very back of our neighbor’s lawn. I could have cheerfully killed him. I was soaked to the bone. I was grouchy because, at this point, I had been calling for him for at least fifteen minutes (although it felt like hours) and here he was messing with some small animal stuck in a wood pile? Had he not heard me yelling for him? Maybe he had lost his hearing when he ran out the door of our house.
Nope. That wasn’t the case because as soon as I yelled his name again, he looked up at me, like, “Wow. You walked all the way back here?” And then he went back to messing with whatever he has smelled in the wood pile.
I cautiously walked towards him because I didn’t want him to run away in search of another adventure. When I got close enough, I grabbed his collar and started up the side road on the other side of our neighbor’s house.
It was tought work because first, Scout didn’t want to leave the wood pile and then he felt the need to sniff at every tree and leaf that we passed. But I wasn’t having it because now my status had been upgraded to soaked and GROUCHY LIKE WHOA, so I dragged him back to our house, which included a moment of Scout stepping on my flip-flop, making it fall off so that I stepped on the grass of our lawn before backing up to get the flip-flop so that we could continue. It was not pretty, our journey home.
I lectured Scout the whole way.
When we got to the house, I opened the kitchen door and all but shoved him in before following him. Greg just stared at me with wide eyes before saying, “I can’t believe you found him.”
I could have said so much right then. I could have joked about how I must have Scout radar or how he was playing with some still unknown animal in a wood pile. I could have even made the obvious comment about how it was still raining like crazy outside. Instead, I looked Greg straight in the eye and said, “One of us almost didn’t make it home alive.”
He started laughing. And then told me to change out of my wet clothes.
Then he made supper and fed Zoey because he’s amazing like that.
And Scout? He made the living room smell like pancake batter (what he smells like when his fur is wet) for the rest of the night.
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