7 Minutes

This afternoon, our dog, Pippi, escaped. My heart sank as she ran out the door and headed down the street. I tried to coax her back with a treat - a people treat, no less - but she basically thumbed her nose at me and continued her run. [On a side note, she did obey our rules and stayed on the sidewalk, not the street. :)] I realized she didn't even have her collar on (we had given her a flea treatment earlier this week and hadn't put it back on) - so there was no way for anyone to identify her as ours.

I freaked out when all my tried and true methods failed to stop my escaping Pippi. All I could imagine was her being run over or being taken to the animal shelter. A frantic call to my husband confirmed my idea that I needed to get in the car and look for her. I quickly put the boys into their seats and started to drive but couldn't find her. I went around the block and started around again when I saw her in a yard by someone's garage.

I rolled down the window and called to Pippi. She turned toward me and came running. Hooray! Not so much. She came to the car but couldn't/wouldn't jump in and wouldn't let me pick her up. Just then, a mom and her two kids walked by and Pippi went over to them. I explained that I was trying to catch her and the woman said, "Oh, is she yours?" [Another side note: Did I look like I was having a good time? Yeah, frantically chasing dogs that aren't mine is my hobby.] Anyway, she helped distract Pippi as I opened the passenger door and Pippi ran to the door. Finally, I caught her.

Relief flooded over me, as I reported to Andrew that our dog was found and caught. He then told me that the whole, horrible experience had lasted a mere 7 minutes. 7 minutes!!!! How could it have only been 7 minutes? Seemed like at leat 20. :)

Pippi is now curled up and sleeping next to me...right where she belongs.