Sunday morning at Rock Eddy I woke up just as the sky was barely starting to get light. Sweet Husband and the dogs were awake too, so we decided to walk up to the top of the hill to watch the sunrise.
It was perfect, as you can see....
Moe had really been good most of the weekend--and at Rock Eddy there's not much to get into as far as bothering other people or dogs--so we had been letting him run loose. But sometime during our walk he smelled good smells or a little bunny caught his eye or something. He was gone.
An hour later we had packed up the cabin and had a little breakfast...still no Moe. So Sweet Husband walked up to the owner's house where Nice Kathy got out their little all-terrain cart and they set out to ask the neighbors if anyone had seen him. Meanwhile, I walked through the woods near where we had last seen him, calling out, "Moe-moe...Moe-y...Moe...."
I won't pretend I wasn't just about to flop down in the leaves and cry. I love that little dog far more than is wise for a creature that's so hard to keep out of trouble, and my mind was racing with all the horrible things that could have happened to him or might happen to him if we didn't find him. I had visions of him going to ground and getting stuck or getting eaten by coyotes or starving to death....
But then I heard his tags rattle through the trees--oh what a good sound! He was still off on his little lark, of course, so asking him to "come" was just silliness, but nonetheless I wasn't going to loose sight of him. I ran through the woods, stumbling over rocks and making my calves ache and my side split going up and down the hills--in terms of gracefulness, think the exact opposite of Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans.
After about fifteen minutes of following him, I got close enough to give the most intimidating "STAY" command I could muster. Whether he was actually paying attention or just getting tired I'll never know, but he "stayed" right where he was as I walked up, snapped a leash to his collar, and promptly plopped onto the nearest rock to catch my breath.
Sweet Husband and Nice Kathy came along just as I made it up to the road. Apparently, Nice Kathy said they have a "city dog" run off a few times a year. One even got away for a whole weekend once. Its owners had to leave on Sunday night, but on Monday morning the dog showed up. The poor husband had to make an eight hour drive back to pick up the dog.
It's probably not very nice, but it always does make me feel good to know there are dogs out there more naughty than mine. As a more charitable thought though, as misbehaved as he is, I'm awfully glad my bad boy made it home with us.