The Wanderer

Do you ever have those days, conversations, moments that you get so lost in whatever is going on, that you lost track of what you were doing?

During a 45-minute drive home in March, I started my commute by calling my Mom for a catch-up chat. Nothing unusual. In the course of our conversation, I hear her let the dog out (a 10lb, shih-poo called Molly) and in no uncertain terms to take care of business and be quick about it since it was very cold out. Fast forward to 40 minutes later, and as we are wrapping up our conversation, I hear, "where is that dog?" "where has she gone off to?" "did I forget to let her back inside?"

Readers, let me remind you, my parents moved up to Pennsylvania recently. It's cold. It has snowed a lot. Which, by the way, has confused the dog greatly. They have noticed her wondering where the patio and grass have gone when it's a winter wonderland. She doesn't care for it too much. She much prefers being able to dig into the soft ground in search of earth worms. Hey, I never did claim that she was a normal dog. How many normal shih-poos do you know?

Since said dog was evidently outside in the snowy hinterlands, I got off the phone with mom so that she could concentrate on locating her. During that time I had gotten a call from an unknown phone number - which I screened out of habit - and dialed into my voicemail to see what random recruiter had called me at 6pm. What I hear is: "We have your dog, call me at 555-5555." Huh? I live in Atlanta. The dog is lost in Bucks County, PA. Curious. And by the way, was that a ransom call? I quickly realize that while I was keeping the dog I had my cell number on her tags and they haven't been changed. I quickly call the stranger back and am told that Molly was happily wandering around the neighborhood, was standing in their driveway (which is 5 houses up from Mom and Dad) when the husband drove up in a car similar to my father's, and was completely surprised that when he opened his door to inquire of Molly what exactly she was doing standing on his driveway, she happily jumped into his car on his lap, ready to go for a ride. Forget candy, this dog loves anyone that operates moving vehicles.

Evidently the children of this household had been pleading with their father for a puppy all their own and were overjoyed when he walked through the door with a tail-wagging licking-machine. By the time I called my mother and she walked over there to reclaim the little runaway, the kids had fashioned a leash out of one of their dad's ties. Ingenious. And Molly was all to happy to be accommodating in her new home. That little traitor.