I once was lost, but now am found . . .

I woke up this morning and sent an email with a picture of Fergi to our homeowners association (or the equivalent thereof). I received a phone call at work this morning from a sweet neighbor who said she heard barking coming from the house behind hers and said the people in that house had gone on vacation. I rushed out of the office and went to look around in the neighbor's backyard (after calling and announcing for the record that I would be there so that they could identify me when and if the police arrested me for trespassing). Well, Fergi was nowhere to be found. Still depressed, I returned to work where I put together some Lost Dog posters (can't bill out that hour). Chuck printed out a bunch of them and brought them home. I also posted an ad in the local newspaper (and damn is that expensive!).

I met Chuck and the kids at home and we spent almost three hours posting fliers in our neighborhood and in TCU. We ate dinner at a local hamburger joint called Dutch's. Mmm, good, but it didn't raise my spirits. We walked back and posted more fliers. Luke and Evie pretended that we were in Blue's Clues searching for clues to find Fergi, and finally lamenting her loss. They started saying things like, "I miss Fergi." Then they would let out a loud sigh and announce, "That was because I miss Fergi." and then they'd let out another loud sigh. They were so helpful though. They helped look for big poles to hang Fergi's photo on and they were really good kids. Of course, they were exhausted when we got home at quarter to nine (their bedtime is around 8. George had fallen asleep in his stroller and we sent the other two to bed straight away. Then I grabbed my keys and rushed around trying to post the last of the signs before the sun set. I hit several streets and with each sign I posted, my hopes of finding my precious baby girl sunk lower.

Finally, I ran out of tape. I slumped my shoulders, sighed like Luke and Evie and turned to get into my car. It was almost dark anyway. But, just as I started to close the door to my car, I saw a runner squint his eyes at the sign and wave at me. He told me that he had seen a sign about a found dog described as a small black and white dog, in the neighborhood across the street from the major street we live behind. I never considered that Fergi could possibly cross that major street and survive, so I had focused all my efforts on our neighborhood. Nonetheless, I hugged the jogger (who looked a little uncomfortable), thanked him, and practically sped over to the other neighborhood. Low and behold, there was a small sign posted reading, "Found small black and white dog" with a phone number. I rushed home (because I lost my cell phone last week - yet another chapter in this comedy of errors otherwise known as my life) and called the phone number I had memorized by chanting it all the way home (approximately three blocks, but across the busy street). I called and yes, a nice older couple had taken in Fergi and kept her safe and fed. They announced that they were a little disappointed because they had already planned to keep her because she fit in so well with their FOUR other dogs! Woof! I rushed over to their house and greeted my long lost puppy who licked my face thoroughly. They were clearly taken with her; they had even decided to name her Cleopatra (a name I approve of). Despite their obvious affection for the little devil dog, Fergi and I were happy to be reunited. I tried to set her down so that I could talk to the couple, but Fergi wanted to go home so I continued to hold her the whole time. It was good to be missed as much as we missed her. Bless that little devil puppy. We love her so.

Thank you all for all your good thoughts. I intend to have a chip put in Fergi ASAP.