Sophie is home again, after a brief adventure.
Sophie went walkabout thisafternoon. Scared me to death.

This morning I saw an articlethat 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 hadgrown old enough she was no longer anxious to explore the great world beyond ourfence. 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 comedespite my call of “Cheese!” I went to get the cheese, happened to look out thekitchen window, and saw that both gates were open and Jacob’s Suburban was inthe drive with the back hatch open. Hate to admit it, but I panicked and jumpedto a conclusion. Called Jordan and when a male voice answered, I thought it wasJacob and yelled about Sophie is gone and you left the gate open and …..!!!! It was not my finest moment.

Christian yelled back: “I justgot home, and I didn’t leave the gate open.” Then he and Jordan began to yellat each other. In retrospect I realize I had started a family mini riot. Christiandid 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 Ishould have looked at the gates before I let her out. Not the time to argue.

I live in one of thosewonderful neighborhoods with an active email list. People are always postingabout seeing a stray dog or a dog that got out and then you see the poststelling you the dog is safely home. I was on my way to the computer to post a noticewhen I saw Jacob leading Sophie out the back door.

She had gone all the way tothe front yard. A bit anticlimactic. When Jacob called her, she trotted rightup 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 toSoph, who couldn’t understand all the fuss.

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

When Sophie was younger, sheescaped 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 tohave a burning desire to see Canada. Once poor Christian chased her for blocks—shewould let him get just close enough and then bolt, and the border collie in hergave her greater speed than he ever thought of having. Another time, a janitorfrom the school across the street rang the doorbell, with Soph under his arm. “Theytold 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 merrilydown 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 findingher gone, on one of the coldest nights of the year, still makes my heart standstill. 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—andI still have no hot water, which seems such a first world problem that I feelguilty whining about it. But I would really like to wash my hair, and my handsare weary of washing dishes in ice cold water. Tomorrow, so they say, a thaw. Iremember Chicago winters and am grateful that this doesn’t happen to us often.

Stay warm and safe and don’tlet the dogs out!