Why? Why, on the one day in the past month it decides to rain, WHY does my dog choose to take off? In our new home, we opted not to fence in our property. We adore our neighbors and didn’t want to interrupt the flow between yards. That said, our 6 year old Black Lab/Chow mix is on a leash out there.

To get to our back yard, you simply go out the sliding doors off the kitchen. I’m out there daily using the grill, because it’s still far too hot in the Carolinas to cook on the stove. Today was just like any other day. I had chicken marinating and fired up the grill for dinner. It’s pouring rain but I don’t mind, it’s still one less pan to clean.

My husband meanders on in and I shove the computer in front of him, thrilled with my piece on Kidz Bops I’ll post next. He’s reading and I’m preparing dinner when I felt that something was out of place. Typically, when someone-anyone-is in my kitchen cooking, my dog is underfoot waiting for something to fall. He wasn’t there.

I look around, I don’t see him. I ask my family, they have no idea. Then I remembered my 3 year old opening the door asking about the rain while I was putting the chicken on the grill. Super. “Tribute!” I call, frantically scanning the yards. I pull out all the tricks. I’m offering treats, walks outside and rides in the car. Typically, any one of those phrases sends him bounding, tongue out in your general direction, but he was nowhere to be found.

I’ve had my pup since he was 4 weeks old. He’s my first baby. Suddenly, my mind is swirling with images of

Tribute at 4 weeks. look at those eyes!

him in the road, scared and wet, doding cars. I’m in a quiet neighborhood, but it’s small, and there’s a pretty busy road leading to it. My husband comes out of the house, 3 year old Jacob in his arms, holding a tiny Spiderman umbrella. Jake’s calling out the same bribes to lure him back, if i wasn’t so distraught I’d have thought it adorable.

They go off walking in the rain and come back sans dog.

Upon their return, I just take off. I have an idea as to where he may be. I get in the car, unrolling all the windows and drive out of my neighborhood, onto that busy road and back into the adjoining neighborhood behind us. I’m no longer worried for Tribute’s safety, I scanned the road on my way in and he wasn’t there. Now I’m worried he’ll scare someone and I’ll get sued. He’s a friendly dog, but he’s a big dog and a stranger doesn’t know if a dog is running up to lick or bite.

I drive slowly down the road and see a tiny speck in the distance. These are estate homes in this neighborhood, super fancy with HUGE yards. I stop my car in the middle of the road without a thought and start yelling for my dog. “Tribute! Come on! Ride in the car!”

To my dog, those words are gold. Better than anything. Suddenly, in the pouring rain, this 65 pound soaking wet dog comes running at me full speed. I gotta tell ya, I got a bit nervous. He was disgusting! Before I could even react, he’s leaping past me, bounding off the drivers seat right into the passenger seat and gets comfortable. Not a care in the world. He’s like “Oh, hey mom! Ride in the car? YAY!”

Naturally, I’m relieved. My fears are subdued and now I’m angry. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t intentionally hit the brakes a little harder than normal to jostle him around a little bit, but he didn’t mind. He’s soaked to the bone, leaning against the cloth interior of my fairly new car with his head out the window in the pouring rain. His mouth is open and his tongue is hanging out, flapping in the wind.

So we’re all home now. I finished cooking dinner and Tribute was under foot where he usually is. I slipped him some chicken. He’s been bathed and he’s clean.

…Wish I could say the same for my car

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