Bound for the Circus


Remember the other day when I wrote about having a fat day and how Greg was just so awesome about the whole thing? Don’t remember? Okay, go visit the archives. The link is on the main page. I’ll wait.

Okay, remember now?

So, what I didn’t tell you is that after work, I had to stop at the drugstore in Tully for a quick second and of course, I ran into someone I knew from high school. So there’s me in my work clothes (read: uncomfy sort-of dress up stuff) with my hair all over the place because it was rainy and muggy and the messy bun I had thrown it up in was, well, messy. And on top of that, I was feeling fat. Naturally, the girl I ran into looked beautiful. Thin, tan, every hair in place, stylish clothes and totally in control of the situation. She was with her two kids, who looked adorable, and she managed to herd them into the drugstore while listening to the younger one prattle on about something. Me? I was just trying to concentrate on not tripping over my own feet.

Suffice it to say, when I walked out of the drugstore, I was a little grouchy and totally feeling sorry for myself. Greg had picked Zoey up from my mom’s house so that I was free to head over to Mom’s to mark all of our crap for the upcoming rummage sale. I got to Mom and Dad’s house and settled down at their dining room table to work on writing up a ton of twenty-five cent stickers (I don’t mess around at garage sales. Listen, I want to get rid of stuff, so I rarely mark anything more than a dollar). I was still feeling sorry for myself and still looked like a total unhot mess when my cell phone rang. Greg. Scout ran right past him and out the door when he had gotten home. Since he had Zoey, he couldn’t even go look for our little furry troublemaker.

Ugh. I had gotten only three sheets of stickers made and NOTHING actually marked, but I headed out in the rain towards home to look for Scout.

I drove all around our little neighborhood. I stopped and talked to our fellow dog-lover neighbor, who was walking her own dog in the rain. No sign of Scout whatsoever. So I drove home, got out of the car and in my work clothes, walked through the wet grass of our lawn to the cornfield behind our house.

I stood at the edge of the cornfield (because there was NO way I was going in there. Monsters might live in there) and called for Scout over and over again. Nothing. Only a slight breeze that made the corn husks dance, which made the cornfield look even creepier.

I kept calling to him, promising treats, a ride in the car, the opportunity to eat our cat (which he would love, by the way)–no I didn’t really tell him that last one–if he would just come to me. Still nothing.

At this point, I was completely convinced that our neighbors thought I was a total nutter because I was standing in the rain and yelling, “Scout! Scout!” over and over again. No doubt they were in their nice little warm homes thinking, ‘that poor girl and she’s having a fat day too!’

I walked to the front of our house and called for Scout again. I called Greg with my cell phone and was chatting with him about possible Scout hiding places when I happened to glance up our road and saw Scout peeing on someone’s flower bushes. At least five or six houses down, past the post office, near the hustle and bustle of route 281. I took off on a quick walk because I didn’t want to startle him. As I got closer, I started calling to him, promising him treats and whatnot again. He lifted his head, looked at me for a second (possibly weighing his options?) and then turned and headed off in the opposite direction. By the time I reached the flower bushes (that had gotten a good watering from my idiot dog), he was long gone.

I walked the rest of the way up the road–all the way to Rt. 281 to make sure I didn’t see him anywhere near THAT road. People fly through there and the last thing I wanted was for Scout to get hit by a car before I had a chance to strangle him. I was still on my cell phone with Greg and between giving him updates (basically me saying, “I don’t see him” over and over again) and yelling Scout’s name, I happened to notice a lady with her little lap dog, heading kind of quickly for her back door. She kept glancing at me like maybe she thought I was a loony. After all, who walks around in the rain in their work clothes? And when they’re having a fat day? I didn’t bother asking her if she’d seen a big, black dog run past her and Miffy or whatever stupid name she gave her little clearly well-behaved dog. I now hate her stupid clearly well-behaved dog because I’m jealous.

I was heading back towards our house–and was at least eight houses and a post office down from our house when I saw Scout pretty much PRANCE across the road and head for the field on the opposite side of the road from our house. I yelled for him and then took off at a dead run. MUST GET THE DOG. Then I realized no one was chasing me and I wasn’t on fire, so I slowed down to power walking. An old lady in a car turned down our road and I was afraid she wouldn’t see Scout and accidently hit him right in front of me. Greg, still keeping tabs via cell phone, told me to try to get her attention, so I took a step out into the road,with my arms out as I mouthed, ‘watch out for the dog’. She drove around me and it was clear that she was scared beyond belief of little old me. Wonderful. Alienating little old ladies. Can I somehow add that to my resume?

I got home, jumped in the Mommy Mobile and took off for the field that Greg and I had seen Scout run towards. Greg offered to go look for Scout instead of me, but I figured I should probably be the one to go since I was already soaked and he was nice and dry in the house. It only seemed right.

So I drove towards the field. At this point, I was hanging out the window of the Mommy Mobile and yelling to Scout that he better get his ass over to me right away because he was in big trouble, mister.

The only road going towards the field was a pothole-filled not-really road that only tractors used. Wonderful. I took the Mommy Mobile down what was more like a path as far as I dared and then got out and started walking the rest of the way. Did I mention I was wearing flats? And the thinnest knee highs known to man under khakis? Yeah, everything I wore was soaked beyond belief at this point.

I couldn’t see Scout anywhere, so I kept walking and calling for him. I was back to the sweet voice that promised treats and rides in the car if he would just come over the me. Still no sign of him. I kept walking. I walked down the path that was just puddles of mud, right next to a wire fence that was lined with trees and huge bushes of weeds that separated the field from the perils of rushing traffic on route 81.

I walked past the little field of uncut corn and kept walking, convinced that Scout must be there SOMEWHERE.

I was at least three football field lengths away from the Mommy Mobile when it dawned on me that maybe I should call Greg and give him an update. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found that it was already ringing–and apparently had been ringing for quite a while. Since every large truck in the entire country had chosen that moment to rush by on rt. 81, I hadn’t heard it.


Greg was on the phone. He had called me to let me know that he had seen Scout run back across the road and Greg had run outside and grabbed him. Scout was safe at home. And had been there for the past ten to fifteen minutes. And I was standing in the middle of a muddy field. What’s wrong with this picture? Greg said he had been calling me over and over again and WHERE WAS I? I started back towards the car, ready to murder Scout. Apparently, he had waited until I had walked past wherever he had been hiding and then had doubled back while I kept walking towards Canada.

I finally got back to the Mommy Mobile, jumped inside, drove just a couple of feet into the field to attempt to turn around and my wheels started spinning. NONONONO–that was my mantra at this point. I pulled forward a little bit to get the car back on the trail and ended up having to BACK UP the ENTIRE way back down the path to get back to the main road. This is a very big deal. I don’t like backing up in the car. I also don’t like parallel parking and will do anything to get out of it.

I got home within a few minutes. When I walked in the house, Scout ran up to me with his tail wagging, as if nothing had happened. I started shouting at him about how he had been TOTALLY naughty and he needs to come when Mommy or Daddy calls for him and he was in BIG trouble and why can’t he just grow up and fly straight and he better start doing his chores and getting better grades if he ever wants to make it into a good college. Okay, I didn’t take it that far. He’s a dog after all, but I DID tell him the whole thing about him being in trouble and coming when Mommy and Daddy call.

In the meantime, Zoey, who had been oblivious to all of this, sat in our recliner with her eyes glued to her new favorite cartoon, Bubble Guppies. She gave me only a quick glance when I walked into the room and said a simple, “Eh,” before going back to watching her cartoon. Good to know that seeing her mother looking like such a mess does not concern her in any way.

My shoes were soaked and possibly ruined. My knee highs were covered in mud. My khakis were wet from the knees down and I was feeling quite surly when I headed upstairs to our bedroom to change into some comfy pants and a t-shirt. I have to admit, I thought about possibly selling Scout to the circus, but when I came back downstairs, he had his ears down and his tail between his legs, so he clearly knew he was in trouble. I guess I’ll forgive him this time.

So, what did I learn from this whole thing? From now on, when I’m having a fat day, I’m TOTALLY taking Greg up on his offer to go look for our stupid lost dog. And also, I have TOTALLY clinched the nomination for neighborhood nutter. Wonderful.

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