Sophie’s adventure

 

Sophie is home again, after a brief adventure.

Sophie went walkabout this afternoon. Scared me to death.

This morning I saw an article that proclaimed your dog should always have a collar tag with name and address, even if microchipped. I remember thinking that I was so glad that Sophie had grown old enough she was no longer anxious to explore the great world beyond our fence. Besides, I told myself, she never has a chance to escape.

This afternoon at about four, I let her out, waited a bit, and called her—she likes being out in the cold, but it still worries me.  She didn’t come despite my call of “Cheese!” I went to get the cheese, happened to look out the kitchen window, and saw that both gates were open and Jacob’s Suburban was in the drive with the back hatch open. Hate to admit it, but I panicked and jumped to a conclusion. Called Jordan and when a male voice answered, I thought it was Jacob and yelled about Sophie is gone  and you left the gate open and …..!!!! It was not my finest moment.

Christian yelled back: “I just got home, and I didn’t leave the gate open.” Then he and Jordan began to yell at each other. In retrospect I realize I had started a family mini riot. Christian did come back on to say, “We’ll get her. We’re leaving right now.” In a minute, Jordan came out to the cottage to get bribery treats and told me firmly I should have looked at the gates before I let her out. Not the time to argue.

I live in one of those wonderful neighborhoods with an active email list. People are always posting about seeing a stray dog or a dog that got out and then you see the posts telling you the dog is safely home. I was on my way to the computer to post a notice when I saw Jacob leading Sophie out the back door.

She had gone all the way to the front yard. A bit anticlimactic. When Jacob called her, she trotted right up to him and followed him in the house. He left her in the yard, gate shut, and Jordan came up the driveway still carrying the treats, which she gave to Soph, who couldn’t understand all the fuss.

All’s well that ends well, but I can’t begin to describe my panic. I apologized to Christian, Mary came for happy hour, Jordan and Jacob went, with separate parties, to Bull’s Night Out at the rodeo, Christian and I had corned beef hash for supper, and life goes on.

When Sophie was younger, she escaped a lot. Smaller, she could slip through under the gate and other places. She was also poised to run every time we opened the front door. She seemed to have a burning desire to see Canada. Once poor Christian chased her for blocks—she would let him get just close enough and then bolt, and the border collie in her gave her greater speed than he ever thought of having. Another time, a janitor from the school across the street rang the doorbell, with Soph under his arm. “They told me she lives here,” he said. Indelibly imprinted in my memory is the time, when she was still tiny and wore a leash all the time, that she ran merrily down the driveway, dragging her leash. I swear I could see a smile on her face.

She’s older now, and wiser, and it’s cold out. I think she knows where her dinner and her bed are, but finding her gone, on one of the coldest nights of the year, still makes my heart stand still. Right now, she’s peacefully asleep in her crate. She has no idea how fortunate she is, and I am, that the whole family loves her so much.

It’s still cold—17 degrees—and I still have no hot water, which seems such a first world problem that I feel guilty whining about it. But I would really like to wash my hair, and my hands are weary of washing dishes in ice cold water. Tomorrow, so they say, a thaw. I remember Chicago winters and am grateful that this doesn’t happen to us often.

Stay warm and safe and don’t let the dogs out!