Our stupid dog ran away last night. I use the adjective stupid lightly; Peter is very much my four legged child and after we lost his brother Sigge two years ago, a very central and necessary part of our family. My sisters family had been over for dinner and when they left on bikes he just took off after them.
We set off on bikes, car and foot to try and coax him back. Fanning out in the woods around our house we searched till it was too dark to see and reluctantly we went to bed. Setting off again at 6.30 in the morning we continued to comb the area screaming at the top of our lungs. All the while visions of a hurt Shnauzer cowering under a tree all night filled my brain.
Finally got the call, the djungle drum had been going hot in town and it turns out a friendly family picked him up about an hour after he ran off and given him a meal, a bed to sleep on and a very comfortable half-way house. The boy had simply followed the path back to his old home.
Needless to say it’s been an emotional day with more tears shed after we were reunited than while he was missing. And now I have a grey furball shaped shadow who won’t leave our side. And that’s quite ok with me!