I thought I had lost my little white dog for good Sunday night.
J and I were dining at our friends’ house when Briscoe and his gal pal, Lola, escaped from the backyard. By the time we noticed that their gate had been left opened by the lawn guy, the dogs were out of sight.
My friend stayed inside to keep her eye on her sleeping baby while her husband, J and I pulled on our shoes and ran out the door after the dogs. As I took a right at the end of their driveway, a desperate cry escaped my throat and worry thoughts flooded my mind.
Oh my god, my dog is missing.
What if I can’t find him?
He is so fast.
He could be anywhere.
And it’s dark outside.
He can run forever without being seen.
What if he gets hit by a car?
I might never see him again.
I started running down the street yelling for him and Lola. Sadly out of shape, my chest hurt from inhaling the cold air while screaming his name and moving at top speed.
At the end of the seemingly never-ending block, down the hill, I thought I spotted the two dogs. It turns out it was just Briscoe and a fire hydrant; Lola was on the other side of the street already making her way back home. (Thank goodness she can’t stand being apart from her parents and knows her way home, as she wasn’t wearing her collar or ID tags.)
“I see them! I see them!” I called back to the guys. Pointing to my left I yelled, “There’s Lola! Grab Lola!”
I ran past another house. “Briscoe, come!” I cried, and I was really crying at this point. My fear was that he would see me running, think we were playing and run off in the opposite direction.
“Briscoe, come!” He picked up his head and looked at me. A moment later he ran towards me. I reached down to scoop him up, but he flew past me to J, who was several yards behind. Remarkably, Briscoe came to a stop in front of J’s feet, and my husband picked him up, unsure whether to scold him for escaping or to praise him for coming back.
As I type this story, a day and a half after it happened, I still get choked up when I think about what could have happened. I have to remind myself that the worst, thankfully, did not happen, although you can be sure that I will always double check the gates when I let Briscoe out in anybody’s backyard.
I think Briscoe knows that something upsetting happened because he’s been extra cuddly and loving since. My new plan is to smother him with affection so that he never wants to be apart from me again.
