When I got home from work today the house was eerily quiet. Notably missing was one wet black little nose, no paws could be heard scratching across the hardwoods, and no cropped-tail-wiggle-butt wagged furiously as I turned off the alarm. Silence unprecedented. Assuming Rocky was comfortably waiting for me in the guest bed (which he has somewhat come to consider his own - lest it deter any readers from visiting Texas please know I do keep a blanket down and also wash the comforter before we have guests!) alas the bed was empty as, seemed to be, the entire house. I searched under beds, inside 1920's sized closets (which for the record are barely big enough to house our shoes let alone a 40lb pup) under furniture with a mere 2 inch crawl space ... nothing. I called his name over and over to no avail. Only then did I recall that Rocky had been in the yard when I left for work. I assumed David, who'd left for work after me, hadn't realized Rocky was outside and had himself left for work and that Rocky had then somehow managed to escape from the yard while we were at work, once having been locked outside. I further reasoned that he had of course been smushed by a bus while trolling the neighborhood in search of squirrels, cats, and and small children. I then frantically called David to inform him that our puppy was most likely dead and proceeded, in my greif-stricken state, to go out in search of Rocky-remains.
After about 10 minutes of driving around in a rainstorm - only the second of which Houston has had this spring as we are experiencing one of the worst droughts in history - David texted me " I think he is hiding". Shadow, my parents dog, and and intelligent collie-shepherd plays hide-and-seek, Rocky just hasn't ever mastered much more complicated than "sit" so I proceeded, circling the rain-drenched neighborhood in search of our little pup. Then David texted again "I am positive he was inside when I left". Leave it to David to maintain an even keel in the midst of catastrophe. I knew he wouldn't say that if it weren't the case, so I returned home and again searched every nook and cranny of the house, calling "Rocky", "Treat", "Park". In desperation I threw open the power room door which was closed shut and, like a jack-in-the-box, out popped the most excited looking little four-year-old puppy-face I have ever seen. I was greeted with bountiful licks and the most wiggly-butt I've ever seen.
Even as I opened the door I hadn't expected to find Rocky inside. He's never shut a door behind him before. I guess that's part of growing-up ... now that he's 4 he'd prefer a little bit of privacy! I texted David "he's alive" and he pulled into the driveway shortly thereafter. Once I'd calmed down a bit he told me that during the thunder storm yesterday Rocky had been scared and gone into the bathroom and David had closed the door locking him inside (to tease him). Maybe Rocky closed the door himself because he thought it was the right thing to do. He must have gotten scared of the thunder and gone back into the bathroom to hide-out. In any case I'll never understand why he didn't bark or scratch at the door to make his whereabouts known, but he doesn't seem to be in any way traumatized by today's events - unlike some others of us. David frequently asks me what lessons I have learned from experiences we have had, and from now on we will definitely keep Rocky's collar on (even though it causes him to scratch) and of course I will never ever become emotional and jump to worst-case-scenrario-conclusions again. never. ever. ever. ever.
