Looking for the Dog

The yellow lab ran away yesterday. The hubby turned to help the toddler with her coat and he just took off.

I was a bit more adrenally knackered than I realized when I wrote yesterday's post. Every time I sat down, I fell asleep. Very tired and lethargic.

But I hauled my ass up (in slow motion) and we drove, in separate cars, up and down the street to look for him. I called animal control and every animal shelter in the city to leave our number.

He's 8 years old. Never run away in his life. (Never got in the garbage either, before last week!) To start now? Really bad timing.

We gave up after an hour and came home. Hubby went out, as planned, to dinner with his extended family while I stayed home to nurse a sour stomach and hid my burst capillaries from view. Hoping, praying our yellow lab would find his way home. I even turned on the porch light.

Then, a huge stroke of luck, the dog sauntered into our neighbor's garage and he brought him home. Thank God. I would never forgive myself if anything bad happened.

Unfortunately, I feel much worse now with the stress of the stomach flu on top of a missing dog. I don't want to updose. I think it's better to let my body hang as long as possible in the hope that will spur further HPA axis action. Or, you know, this could spectacularly blow up in my face, but I'm trying to be optimistic.