It ends okay. Don't worry.
Tap bolted out of the house Saturday morning. We live on the corner of one of the busiest streets in Athens, --- did I mention it was a Saturday morning? --- and when I saw him headed that way, I was sure I was going to lose him. He disappeared down the little rise from our house to the road, and went right, the direction we take when we go on a walk. I know you aren't supposed to run after runaway dogs, and you aren't supposed to yell their names, because that only spooks them more. But how do you not?
I got within sight of him when he was maybe three steps from going out onto the road. Bent down, clapped my hands, said, "C'mon, buddy" as calmly as I could, and he came. I gathered him up, lurched back up the hill, and came inside. It took me several --- several --- minutes to get my breathing and my heartbeat back to normal. Whether he realized what had gone wrong is anyone's guess.
Now here's the funny part.
My usual outfit around the house is a pair of leisure/sport/pajama pants and a t-shirt. Some of the pants have drawstrings, some elastic. I have lost enough weight now that many of the pairs slip down over my hips, and have to be pulled up CONSTANTLY.
You know what's coming already, don't you?
I'm tearing out after him, having to pull my pants up every couple of strides. They might have slipped down farther than I would wish --- I honestly don't know. More important things going on.
It was a tough weekend.
2 comments:
The bending down thing was a smart thing to remember to do. I am certainly a chaser and a yeller.
Well, since it all ended well, who cares about anything else?
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