Lost and Found
It’s been a rough few days.
Yesterday, we worked to the point of a) exhaustion and b) where we didn’t know what to do next. The trailer is–well, it’s hard to say. I form a different opinion of how bad things are every time I go in. All I know is that Dad wants the B-I-L’s opinion before deciding how next to proceed.
After spending all day yesterday on the phone, trying to describe to various salespeople what parts we needed, Dad and I went on a shopping trip to the city. Mom opted to stay at home and watch the dogs. Notice dogs is plural.
When we returned home after a few hours, the first thing I did was go and check on my babies, and found the dog–singular. Max had gone missing.
I can’t even begin to explain how out of character this is for my little boy. Max is my velcro dog. Yes, I often can’t find him, but that’s because he’s directly behind me. But, Mom put the dogs in the backyard, went shopping, and when she came home, only Lulu was there.
Max isn’t as smart as I think he should be–but that’s because I make an unfair comparison to my last black and white dog, who was at least half border collie. But he’s smart enough to know my parents house, and to know when we are here, that this is where he needs to stay.
Well, thank goodness for small communities that still believe in raising children free range, because while I was crying, and searching, and crying, and making lost dog posters, and crying, and praying, Mom was gathering the neighborhood kids into a search party. And while they didn’t Max, a couple of the boys told their mom that they were looking for him.
Well, the mom happened to see an employee of a local sandwich shop grab Max as he was trying to cross the highway, so she knew who had her. The mom was then able to get us into contact with Max’s rescuer, and I once again have two dogs.
I know that I’m not going to have Max and Lulu forever. I know that they were five years old when they came to live with me, and they haven’t gotten any younger. I know that they are just dogs–if there is anything as just a dog.
Right now, though, Max and Lulu are my reason for living. There are days that they are the only reason I get out of bed.
I know that I need something else to hold on to, but right now, I’m glad that I just have something.
And I’m so glad that Max is home.
I’m so glad you found your dog, and that he’s home safe with you.
Corianne /the running away by Max maybe
a sign of deeper mental health problems its
fortunate there be animal psychotherapists
whom abled analyze any unusual behavour.
It could be nought to worry over but being
just the actions of an very mischievous dog.
If concerned take dog to a psychotherapist
then they be able to tell if being a problem.
The running away can be a sign of a more
serious nature … from very mild to serious
cases of depression, if such being the case
then the psychotherapist can prescribe an
course of anti depressent drugs in helping.
There being sessions of DSTG the dog can
attend ”Dog Social Therapy Grouping’ the
dogs meet under supervision in learning to
rebuild bonds, within basic pack instincts.
It may be the psychotherapist suggests the
dog having another owner, where in being
more compatable in an other environment.
It also in cases the choice of animal wrong
rather than dog one should get a rabbit, or
tortoise, ideal for the very elderly, in going
for walks they can match speed of tortoise.
For some snakes the ideal pet, for others it
be crocodile or alligator, a popular choice.
Though can be dangerous when in an bad
mood /going through a depressive period.
One could always try ‘bee-keeping’ where
the benefits being in the making of honey.