We use an electric fence in our back yard to allow the dogs a bit of freedom. One or the other of us keeps an eye peeled, but it only takes a split second to lose track of a dog. I spent two and a half hours searching for Maddie, including traipsing through my neighbors' back yards, walking down all the streets around us, slipping on the icy paths of the nature preserve. Neal was ready to come home from work after my teary call to him.
Finally, finally, I heard her bark. I found her in the front yard of R.J. the cat's house. I think R.J. may have led Maddie on a wild chase; Maddie had perfumed herself with some sort of nastiness.
I snapped her leash on and walked her home. After a quick call to Neal (yes, sobbing so hard I couldn't speak was a part of it), I prepared the bathroom for a bath. Maddie was tolerant of her bath, and I was starting to relax.
Then, as I dried her, she stepped on my left little piggy. The broken one. Bottle rocket zambino! The tape and ice had been helping, but I think there are still a few of those cartoon birds whirling around my head.
Want to know what I did learn, though? Even with a broken toe, I can run if it means getting to my little lovey before she gets hurt. That's good to know.
I'm going to try to find a way to quiet myself down after such a big, scary adventure. Yarn and some needles might help, don't you think?