I’m thinking my summer experience can be boiled down to this one weekend.
I came home to take care of the dog, and honestly, because I needed a real vacation.
I charged out of work at 433 and made it with 30 seconds to spare on the 255 hoping for the 550 boat. Didn’t happen. My mantra during this time, and really all summer… ‘You are not dying. You are not dying…’ If ever there was a time to feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in direct sunlight ready to burst into flame, this bus ride in particular and the summer in general would be it.
Four hours later and I’m walking up the driveway, seeking that whiskery white face that belongs to my favourite guy under two-feet tall. And… the gate is open. Like, wide open. No dog. Weird. Good start to the weekend 🙂
I laugh, scan the yard, yell ‘Hello!!!’, fumble for the keys and let myself in. Nothing’s changed since Thursday, bowl’s still waiting to be filled, notes to neighbours still on the counter. The red light on the phone beckons and I move to take down the messages hoping for clues and wondering who to call first.
The phone rings. I recognize my sister’s number and pick up. “Are you home? Did you get my texts?” she asks. “Yes, I’m home and no, haven’t checked my phone since I got off the ferry,” I reply.
“Well, Twink is over at Chelsea’s sister’s for dinner.” I laugh. “Ok…” She goes on to tell me how neighbours noticed ‘a little white dog’ wandering the hood, reeled him in and posted his picture on Facebook and messaged Rube for a possible ID, letting her know that he was safe and being the perfect guest– as they hadn’t wanted to leave him on his own.
He came bouncing home just before 9 🙂
** Heartfelt thanks to the world’s best neighbours for taking care of Mr. T. ❤