The Runaway

My ten-and-a-half month niece is in the hospital for the umpteenth time in her young life, so I planned on driving to Campbell Sunday morning to see her and her family. The best laid plans...

I let our dog One Way (pictured here relaxing with Mike) out in the backyard when I got up, then jumped in the shower and got ready. It was going to be a quick trip (it's a 45-minute drive each way) because we had a busy day ahead. I was going to take One Way with me because he loves car trips and hanging out with me. Plus, the parking lot at the hospital is covered so he wouldn't get overheated on this extremely rare sunny day day this March. One Way had other plans for the day.

When I opened the back door and called him, there was no response. He was gone. Upon inspection, we discovered a hole in our fence. We immediately sprung into search mode, uncertain how long he had been gone. We began scouring the neighborhood and the beach. I was in a mild panic because One Way didn't have his collar on. If someone found him, there would be no way to locate us.

About an hour into the search, Mike and I met up at home. We were frustrated and helpless, uncertain what to do next, so Mike did the dishes (I think he was trying to take his mind off the worry) and I prepared a "Lost Pet" flyer to post around the neighborhood. Then we recruited guests Martin and Manuel to help in the search.

I dropped a flyer off at the Andreotti Family Farm produce stand down the street and bemoaned our situation with owner Terri, a sympathetic fellow dog lover, who promised to show the poster to all her customers. She suggested I drop one off at the office of the state beach, so I did. Then I headed back up the street. As I was posting one of the flyers on a telephone pole near Hatch School on Kelly Avenue, the truck from the Humane Society pulled up. The woman asked if I was "looking for a lost friend." I said I was and she told me she was headed to the beach because she got a call about "a little guy wearing a Harley shirt." I thanked her and headed back to the beach. Enroute, my cell phone rang. It was Terri from the produce stand alerting me that SPCA was headed for the beach. (No one has a pulse on the neighborhood better than Terri!)

I got to the ranger station and was led to a rusty metal cage. Our little guy was trembling with excitement and showered me with kisses when I scooped him up into my arms. Apparently, One Way has turned himself in. He had been "on the lam", got tired from his adventures, couldn't find his way home and wandered toward the only building he saw.

Our whole household was relieved. After returning to remove all the flyers posted up and down the street, One Way and I stopped by to personally thank Terri for her help. We made it home in time for the birthday party for one of our guests who had just turned 4. The 3-hour detour from our plans reminded me that, no matter how much I try, I really have no control over my days. That's okay. Life is an adventure! (My niece is doing fine, by the way. I never made it down to see her. I can't make it tomorrow because I have English classes to teach but I hope to make it on Tuesday if she is still in the hospital.)