Memorial Day Weekend

As I type, it is nearly 1:30 in the morning. Tuesday morning, and the holiday weekend is over. After all the rains we had last week, two streets in the middle of our town were washed away, cattle and horses were left stranded in high water in the center of a major highway, and we discovered that the roof of our house needs to be replaced after some of that horrendous rain leaked into our kitchen. Ironically, the second and third floors of our home were just fine, but the kitchen got a bit wet. I've called six roofing companies and we're waiting for them to call back and put us on their schedule for estimates. This roof is about 22 or 25 years old now, which is about the life expectancy for a shingled roof in the Texas sun and heat. Until we decide on a roofer, my husband and our handyman put up three Smurf-blue tarps to cover the parts of the roof that leaked.  Not exactly a Victorian touch for this hundred-year-old house, but as long as they keep out the next round of rainstorms, who cares what color they are.

All weekend long, we were anticipating the blast of fireworks. Nothing. Not one little firecracker until about 10:45 last night. I had taken Savannah outside for a last visit to the grass and I was waiting for her to do what she needed to do in the grass by our walkway.  Since the sonic-boom fireworks on April 27th which caused Savannah to disappear for 12 days, she has not wanted to walk anywhere near the road since she found her way back home. I've been walking her in the backyard, and in the small patches of grass behind the garage, and in the quiet of the night I've taken her by the walkway leading up to our driveway.

I was outside with Savannah for about 10 minutes last night. As always (since April 27th) she was clearly stressed out and shaking, but valiantly trying to find the perfect spot in the grass. She finally did, and I brought her back in the house. I locked the door and went upstairs as Savannah settled herself in her bed in the breakfast room. No sooner had I gotten upstairs and my husband and I heard fireworks exploding from across the road... the same neighbors who set off the massive M-80 blasts that sent Savannah running into the woods that night in late April.

Five minutes after the first half-dozen explosions from across the road tonight, my cell phone beeped with a text message. It was from the firework-loving neighbor, telling me "We'll be having fireworks for the next 15 minutes."    I immediately sent a text back to her, saying that I had just been outside with Savannah and had come back into the house two minutes before she started setting off the first round of fireworks.  I neglected to say a lot of other things... that she still has no idea how the April firework fiasco has changed our dog, how badly I was injured when I fell to the ground after the first M-80 went off, and how Savannah can no longer go outside without shivering and shaking and stressing out.

No matter how much I try and make peace with this house and this location, I just cannot seem to follow through. When we were in Canada recently (or on any of our trips for that matter) I don't give a thought to looking in my shoes for scorpions or watching for tarantulas in the garage or on the porch, and I certainly never think that a snake might be dangling and then falling from the ledge over the door (as happened the other night).  In all the places I've lived over the years, I've never had such ridiculous encounters with insects and reptiles and wildlife.  I have never gone camping in my life but sometimes living in this big old house is what 'real camping' must be like. This house is just surrounded by every flying, crawling, slithering, creeping thing that Mother Nature has dumped into the state of Texas.

Well, I'm thanking my lucky stars tonight that I wasn't out there walking Savannah five minutes later than I was, because if I had been, that first firework blast from across the road could have sent her running for the hills again, once more knocking me to the ground as she bolted. As it happened, Savannah must have run out of her pillow-bed when that first blast sounded and when Gary and I came downstairs, she was sitting in the pantry and just shivering uncontrollably. Gary sat on the floor with her for half an hour, until the fireworks had stopped and this poor dog had calmed down.

I've tried to make a silent peace with that neighbor these past few weeks... not going over there to bring her cookies, but just telling myself that the April firework situation was just an unfortunate incident and we have Savannah back now so there's no need to hold a grudge. Well, screw that. After tonight's fireworks, and after thinking that they must have known all day long that they were going to set off those fireworks tonight, why couldn't she have let me know earlier in the day?  I would have had the TV or the radio on in here so Savannah wouldn't have heard the blasts so clearly. And I certainly wouldn't have taken her outside at 10:40 at night if I'd known that they would be setting off the damn things at 10:45.

And yes, maybe I'm being unreasonable, to think that the new neighbors should even care about the effects of fireworks on our dog.  Just because I would be more respectful of them and their pets doesn't mean that I should expect them to have the same concern.

Give me a blessed break...

Last night was a double-whammy with the creatures that are out here on our property. And why is it that I am the one who always finds them?

I had put Mickey into the garage last night at dinner time... he goes in there willingly, eats his Fancy Feast on his little table, and then goes through the trap-door into the coop and watches the world going by as he relaxes in the fenced-in coop.

Well... on the way into the garage with his Fancy Feast favorite-flavor-of-the-moment, there was a huge tarantula crawling on the cement floor, headed straight for Mickey's side of the garage. And there was Mickey, just sitting there watching it crawling along the garage floor.  I don't think tarantulas bite, but still, I didn't want that blasted thing near my cat. I got out a can of wasp spray and aimed it at that giant furry spider and it turned itself around and started walking towards one of the overhead doors. I opened up the door a bit, gave the spider another blast of the wasp spray, and sent it out into the driveway and then I shut the door tight. So there. I surprised myself that I handled it without calling my husband. The spider went off and died somewhere, Mickey was fine except I took away his entertainment for the night, and I went back into the house without saying too many bad words about country living.

I must be used to the tarantulas by now because even though it took me by surprise when I saw it in there, I didn't freak out or scream. I just stood there for a second and said out loud "Are you kidding me?"  (The tarantula had no response.)

A couple of hours later, I was going out the back door with Savannah to let her pee in the grass before I went upstairs for the night. I was holding the screen door open, waiting for Savannah to get herself out of the door... she was stretching and taking her time getting across the kitchen.... and I thank my lucky stars for that big stretch of hers because had she been ready to walk out of that door, a chicken snake would have dropped down on my shoulders. (No, that is not a typo.)

Apparently, a brown chicken snake was perched up on the ledge over our back door... he must have been on his way to get to one of the barn swallow nests that are all over our porch. When I opened the door, he probably wasn't quite on the ledge, and the screen door caught him and sent him tumbling down onto the porch--- and thankfully not onto my head or shoulders because I was waiting just inside the door for Savannah to 'catch up' with me.

As the snake dropped down, my eyes caught the movement and I immediately knew what it was and I screamed out loud, which made Savannah back up into the kitchen, the back door slammed because I let go of it, and thankfully the snake landed outside on the porch and not inside on the kitchen floor. My husband heard me scream and he came running downstairs but by that time the snake was gone. Gary went outside on the porch and looked over the back door... and he figured out that the snake had been balancing half of his body on the ledge, half of him was dangling down on the screen door, and I just happened to open the door at the wrong moment.

Story of my life with the godforsaken wildlife out here.... I'm always at the wrong place at the wrong time and I see everything that's out there after dark. About the only thing I haven't seen yet is a bobcat, but I'm sure that will come along as well.

My husband said the solution to the snake-over-the-door problem is a round piece of wood to sit along the flat ledge that's above that back door. Hopefully, a snake won't be able to perch up there on a round surface.

My own solution is that we have to get rid of all these barn swallow nests, no matter how much we love watching the baby birds. We'll leave them up there for now because the birds are still laying eggs and raising their babies, but once they leave when the summer heat begins, I'm going to have our illustrious handyman scrape off all those nests, clean up the tops of the porch columns, and that's it... no more being a B&B for the barn swallows. Just as having a coop filled with chickens will attract snakes, these bird nests are also bringing the snakes too close to the house.

It's a wonder I was able to sleep last night without dreaming of snakes falling down on top of me. Life in the country... ain't all what it's cracked up to be.

When it rains, it pours.

And it's been pouring for about 24 hours now... we've had 14 inches of rain up here in the hills, and that's just the total for yesterday and this morning. I think we've had more rain this month than we probably get in three years. Totally ridiculous. Even more ridiculous was the water dripping down from not one, not two, but three different spots along the kitchen ceiling. Give me a blessed break.

This roof is about 20 years old now, and being that it's the everyday run-of-the-mill shingled roof, that's about all the time allowed for a roof that's out in the Texas heat and sun. My husband and I cleaned up the windowsills and the kitchen counter-top and the top of the fridge... and that was at 3:30 this morning. It was the second clean-up of the day because I had cleaned the same three places at four o'clock yesterday afternoon... that was the worst of the storms we had, and my husband had fallen asleep and slept right through all the loud thunder and lightning.

First thing this morning, I called five roofing companies. One was local, the others were in the larger towns surrounding ours.  Wonder of wonders, the local guy called me back first.  However, the first sentence out of his mouth told me that I was in trouble--- "Tell me now, just what's wrong wit' dat there roof a yorn."   I told him the problem, he wrote down my address, and then asked me to spell my first name three times before he got it right... and then he said the words that told me I wouldn't be using him to replace our roof--- "Well, I'm right busy now and backed-up till Monday but y'all probably see me out at yore place one day next week."  I told him that would be fine, but as I was saying the words, I was drawing a line through his name on my list of roofers.

My husband went to Home Depot this morning and bought a tarp for the part of the roof where we've had the leaks. This house is three stories... you would think the third floor would be the problem, not the first floor.  Our illustrious handyman R will be here in the morning to help my husband get that tarp on the roof. The instructions on the package says one person can secure the tarp. Anyone believing that needs to go to Brooklyn and have a look at the bridge that's for sale up there.

Savannah has been excellent during these storms. Even at the worst of the thunder, she isn't going into a panic mode. Most likely because she's in the house and stretched out on the TV room sofa like a princess, but still, the thunder has been extremely loud and I wouldn't have blamed her for stressing out. When she hears the noises from the storm, she will go and sit next to me or Gary, just sitting there and waiting for her hug. Which of course she gets, and having a hand on her chest seems to relax her immediately.

With that in mind, my husband did some searching on the Internet... PetCo sells two items for dogs who are sensitive to loud noises... the 'thunder leash' and the 'thunder jacket.'  The jacket looks like a tight-fitting sweater that literally hugs the dog around its chest, making it feel more secure in stressful situations. The leash is sort of like a tight vest, hugging the dog around its chest but not being as bulky as the jacket....  you use your own leash and attach it to the clip-ring on the thunder leash, so when your dog is anxious outside, one pull on the thunder leash will result in a chest-hug for the dog, soothing the dog very quickly.

We were going to drive into College Station yesterday, but the weather squelched that plan and we stayed home. Thankfully so, because friends up the road drove out of town yesterday and had to stay overnight at a hotel because flooded roads prevented them from get back here until early this afternoon.

Savannah still doesn't go near our driveway when I take her outside... the driveway leads to the road, and she wants no part of it now.  When I take her out on the porch, Savannah goes down the back steps and walks straight to the backyard, which is fine.... it keeps us close to the house, I don't have to worry about cars on the road, and if the backyard walking is good enough for Savannah, then it's good enough for me.

We still look at Savannah and realize just how lucky we are that she found her way back home.

I'm back...

...back home, back to writing, back to my books, back to everything that we call 'normal' in this big old house of ours tucked into the Hill Country.

My husband and I took a trip to Canada last week... a trip that had been planned before our dog Savannah went 'missing' for twelve days. Even though we had made arrangements for Savannah to be brought to an excellent boarding facility if she had turned up while we were out of town, I'm still thankful that she found her way home the week before we left for Niagara Falls. We're still pinching ourselves at such good luck and the protection of the angels.... Savannah finding her way back to us without being hurt (or worse) by the dreadful wildlife out in the woods here.

Our 'lost' dog was the star of the boarding kennel when we dropped her off, being that everyone had seen our lost-dog posters in our town and the five surrounding towns.  We were thrilled to have Savannah home, but not so thrilled to be leaving town just a week after her return. This was her first experience at the kennel, and because Savannah had the deluxe kennel with only six other dogs in the very large room, her time in 'puppy camp' worked out very well.  (And I only called them twice while we were away, just to check and see if she was indeed adjusting to her days without us.)

We flew to the tip of upstate New York and then drove over the Rainbow Bridge into Canada, to see the Falls and to spend some time in Toronto. Niagara Falls was breath-taking from both the New York and the Canadian side, to say the least, but the weather was less than perfect... in one 24-hour period, we had rain, bits of sleet, and tiny snow flurries. Cold, cold, cold, especially since it was nearly 90 degrees when we got on the plane in Houston. The wet and dreary weather lasted for each of the days in Toronto, but we lucked out at the end of our stay up there because the weather turned from November-ish to mid-Summer, and we went back to see the Falls when the sun was shining and the sky was blue and just a light sweater was needed when we stood on Table Rock and watched Niagara spilling over and over and over. An incredible sight.

Speaking of incredible, we also made a quick side-trip to Cooperstown, NY, home of The National Baseball Hall Of Fame. Tissues were quickly needed when we started the tour... it was very emotional, all the bronze plaques in a church-like setting with the sun streaming in the windows and you could have heard a pin dropping on the wood floors as everyone silently paid homage to the baseball greats. Everyone spoke in whispers, standing quietly in front of the plaques of their favorite players. The Hall of Fame is beautifully set up to honor the men whose hearts and souls became part of baseball and its historic legacy.  Cooperstown is a quaint and lovely town... time just stops there, the B&Bs are all beautiful, and the small-town experience reminded me of our own little town here in the hills.

We found bookshops in just about every town we visited, and I came home with a dozen books... biographies and novels, vintage British children's stories, and books on Niagara Falls and Cooperstown.  We visited the beautiful home and museum of George Eastman (of the Eastman-Kodak Company), and we toured elaborate castles built with both money and love, such as Casa Loma and Dundurn Castle.                                                                                                                                            
The castle that I will remember always is "Boldt Castle," commissioned by George Boldt (who built the original Waldorf Hotel in NYC).  His castle was a gift for his beloved wife, and was to be a surprise for her. Craftsmen were contracted from all over the world to carry out the plans for this family home that was built on a heart-shaped island in the "Thousand Islands" area of the uppermost part of New York state.  The island was named "Heart Island" because of its shape, and George Boldt's blueprints for his castle had heart-designs both in the exterior stonework and in the flowerbeds of the gardens. Sadly, Boldt's wife died suddenly at 43 years of age, before the castle was completed... on the day she died, George Boldt sent word to the workers on Heart Island and told them to leave, just leave... all the construction and work stopped, the castle remained in its unfinished condition, and Boldt never set foot on that island again.  The castle remained neglected until a special commission within the town decided to complete the dream of George Boldt.  And indeed they did, resulting in the most beautiful castle-like home imaginable. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes, and it was very hard to leave Heart Island that afternoon.

The traffic and construction within the city of Toronto was daunting... but the bookshops were superb. We found Greek restaurants (all quite good) in all the towns we visited along the way.  We met people with big dogs who reminded us of Savannah, and we saw little dogs whose cuteness was hard to resist. With each dog we saw along the way, my husband said  "I'm so glad we got Savannah back."

There were vintage carousels in Canada and Cooperstown, and we rode them round and round, in total awe of the painting and the workmanship of a lost art, a lost craft. What will happen to these carousels if no one is out there to carry on such craftsmanship for future generations?

We got up early on the morning after we got home from the airport, determined to get Savannah at the boarding facility the minute they unlocked their doors at eight o'clock.  They told us Savannah was 'a sweet girl,' 'a very pretty dog,' 'easy and cooperative.'  When Savannah was brought out into the lobby, she saw my husband first because I was around at the far end of the counter settling the bill. Savannah went up to my husband and sat down by his legs, waiting for her special hug from him... one hand on her heart, the other on the back of her neck... and she sat there quietly being hugged and then lifted her head to lick his face. I just stood off to the side and watched for a few minutes, giving Savannah her moment before letting her see me. The ladies at the boarder's gave her a bath and brushed her long hair till it was shining and clean and beautiful... all of the woodsy, musky odor from her 'lost' days was gone, and when I hugged Savannah she smelled like lavender, sweet and tender, and I was so happy to see her that I couldn't stop smiling.

We had a very nice trip.... wonderful memories filled with baseball and bookshops, castles and carousels, and small-town magic wrapped up in a magnificent waterfall. But now we're home... and Savannah is here with us... and I couldn't think of a better place in the world to be right at this very minute.

A note from me...

To those of you wondering if Savannah's blog is about a real puppy... indeed it is.  I could not have made this story up if I tried.  If I had the technical ability to post a photo of Savannah and our cats here on this Blog page, I would do so, but my forte is writing, not picture-taking, and certainly not computers. Savannah's picture, however, is posted on my Pinterest page-- it's the cover photo on my board titled "Get Real... Get a Dog!" -- my Pinterest page is listed under my first name.  Savannah also has a Facebook page--- Savannah Grace, showing pictures from her 'Lost Dog' posters.

I started that blog (A Puppy Named Savannah) on the day we brought her home on September 12th, 2015.  Besides the fact that I tend to write everything down (and have for decades) I just had the feeling that this puppy would have a story to tell. I didn't know at the time how much of that story would be interesting enough to write about, but when I start something, I tend to see it through.

What originally began as a blog about raising a puppy turned into a stream of emotion-filled essays on how Savannah came into our life, disrupted and changed our life, and ultimately became the core of our life, most especially during the 12 days when she was lost.  We don't know where she was during those days and we will probably never find out.                                                                        

I know one thing... I will always remember the look on Savannah's face that Mother's Day morning when we found her sitting by our back door waiting for us to come home. Our puppy was as overwhelmed and as exhausted as we were after those awful days, and all she wanted was to be back with her family. Savannah seems to be fine and healthy after her adventure, although she has no interest in walking along our road now. When she goes down the porch steps, she heads straight for the backyard and does her 'business' quickly and then wants to come back into the house. I'm sure she will get her confidence back as the weeks go by.

To both dog-lovers and cat-people.... your pets depend on you for everything: for their shelter, their food, their safety, their health.  They give us so much during the years that we have them, and yes, they can be both frustrating and rewarding, and along with the love they give, responsibility and effort and just plain work come along with those little (and big) furry packages.  In our search for Savannah during the days she was lost, we saw so many unwanted and neglected dogs and cats. Please spay/neuter your house-pets, and please please please go to your local animal shelters if you're willing to accept the love and responsibility of a four-legged furry child. No matter how many years your cat or dog may live, they will never mature beyond the psychological capability of a two- or three-year-old child, and understanding that is so important in the way you care for them.

To anyone who has cats who come running to you when their names are called, and to everyone who is loved unconditionally by a dog, I dare you to find a stronger bond with another living breathing creature on this planet.

After the last excruciating twelve days, I am all word-ed out, written-out, and just flat-out emotionally exhausted. I do understand that many more news-worthy and earth-shattering events have been happening around the world during our 'lost dog' fiasco.  Savannah being lost was just a minuscule blip on the radar screen of the universe, but Savannah is our blip and that's why we put the rest of the world on hold these past couple of weeks.

 My blog statistics indicate that the number of readers on both Savannah's blog and my Sprinkles blog has increased dramatically in the last six months, and I truly thank all of you for reading.  I'll be back here typing after a little while, but for right now, this writer just needs a blessed break.

A note from Savannah...

 Momma keeps asking me Where Were You Savannah Where WERE You?! and I look at Momma and try to make her Understand that if I knew Where I Was then I would have just Come Back Home after those Big Noises stopped and I wouldn't have been Gone at all.

I knew I was Lost as soon as I Stopped Running that Night after the Big Boom happened and I thought the Sky Was Falling because of all the Colors dripping down from The Clouds. And then Momma fell to the Ground and I don't think She Got Up Too Quick because I was Running Running Running and Momma wasn't saying Come Here Savannah Come Here so I just Kept On Going till I couldn't Go anymore and that's how I really Learned what Lost means.

There were Other Dogs out there in the Woods and they weren't Nice Dogs because a few of them Growled At Me as soon as they Heard me and didn't even Give Me A Chance to Explain why I was in Their Woods in the first place. Momma would have called them Hoodlum Dogs because they Don't Know How To Play Nice. One of those Dogs laughed at me and said I was Dragging a Rope and I told him that it was My Blue Leash and he said Girl Call It Whatever Fancy Word You Want But It's Just A Rope.

Then another Dog saw my Little Pink Heart with my Name and Momma's Number on it and that Dog said that I'd Be Losing That Tag Soon and then I'd Be Just Like Them-- On My Own and Doing Whatever I Wanted To Do. Well I tried to Explain that What I Really Wanted To Do was Go Back Home because Momma needed Company for Walking and Daddy needed me for The Dog Park and Sweet Pea liked to Sleep In My Bed and if I didn't Get Back Home then that Cat would just be Taking Over My Bed and Mickey was probably Waiting to Slap My Nose just because he's So Little and Thinks he always has to Prove That He's a Real Cat and besides that the Cats Were There First and a Cat is a Cat That's Always Been That.

Those Hoodlum Dogs didn't Have a Clue what I was Talking About so I left them when they Went To Sleep because they Didn't Care About Me anyway and they Didn't Even Know what Lost meant so I just Kept On Going. My hair was picking up those little Sticky-Burrs that Momma was always Pulling Off when I was Home and then she would Put Her Hands On Her Hips and tell me Savannah You Are One High-Maintenance Puppy With All That Long Hair of Yours and I knew that if Momma saw me now with the Dirt and Sticky-Burrs All Over Me she would be Putting Her Hands On Her Hips for the Rest Of Her Life. And another thing I Learned while I was Gone was that if Momma ever saw all the Animals and Bugs and Crawling Things in the Woods she would Never Come Out Of The House Again.

I don't know How Many Days I Was Lost because One Day is the Same As The Next One especially out here in Momma's Country Bubble but I was getting Tired and Hungry and Lonely and once You've Had a Family and a House and Bowls of Food and Water this Lost-In-The-Woods thing just Doesn't Cut It no matter What the Hoodlum Dogs say.  And then the Woods had Rain and Thunder and Lightning and I had to Find A Place to Hide that Wasn't Too Dirty but that was the Trouble-- Everything Was Too Dirty and it was Getting Hard to look like a Lady Dog and Momma wouldn't have Been Too Happy with how I Smelled.

I ate a Lot of Grass and Bluebonnets but right after eating them I threw them All Up and the Pile of Mashed Bluebonnets didn't look So Pretty and then I started eating Whatever I Found that was Crunchy but that was Hard To Do after all that Rain we had. I just kept Walking and Hiding and Walking and Hiding and pretty soon the Woods started to Smell Like Home so I Walked Faster and Didn't Hide So Much Unless I Heard The Coyotes and before too long I saw our House at the top of the Hill. Our House! Those big old Columns that Momma says the birds love to build nests on, and the big old Porch that Momma says attracts every bit of Dust like a Magnet so I kept Running and Running and Running and then I flew up the back steps of our house and Planted Myself Up Against The Back Door and wouldn't you know it-- my Blue Leash got caught in the Steps of the Porch and even if I did want to Go Anywhere there was No Way for me to Get Loose.    

And then after a Minute I saw Daddy's car coming up the Road and then Up our Driveway and then Momma and Daddy got out and Daddy was Crying and Yelling She's Home! She Came Home! and Momma was crying too and saying Savannah Baby Girl You Found Your Way Home!  I just sat there trying to Look Cute instead of Looking Dirty and Momma said Oh Just Look At All The Sticky-Burrs On You and next thing I knew Momma had my Brush in her Hand and she was getting all those Burrs off of me and she didn't even Stop to Put Her Hands On Her Hips.

Then Momma's friends came to the House and I Wagged My Tail and Sat Down and Momma was Brushing Me and Everybody said Well Where Have You Been Savannah and that's the First Time I tried to say Well If I Knew Where I Was Then I Would Have Been Able To Get Home A Lot Faster but I don't think they Understood me because Most of Them were Crying. Miss Judy was there with Bella and that Little Dog was Looking All Cute and Clean and she Sniffed me and told me that I Smelled Like The Woods. Well where did Bella think I had been for twelve days? At a Spa?  And Miss Cindy was there but she didn't Bring Jack with her but that's Probably because Jack would have tried to Bury me because I smelled so Bad.

When I finally got into the House I drank some Water and then Momma quick got the Mop and cleaned up my Splashy Mess and then Momma said that her Kitchen Floor had been Clean for the Last Twelve Days but she could Kiss That Goodbye and then she Gave me a Big Hug and started to Cry. Then Daddy was giving me BBQ brisket and Macaroni And Cheese and Chicken and Bagels With Lox and telling me It's Good To Have You Home Savannah We Missed You So Much and I just Sat There trying to Look Pitiful so Daddy would Keep On Feeding Me.

Everybody went to Sleep early that Night because I was Exhausted from all that Running and all those Nights Without My Bed and Daddy said that he must have driven One Thousand Miles looking All Over for me and Momma said she now has More Gray Hairs Than She Needs and they both said I was One Lucky Puppy because not only did I Find My Way Back Home but I have More Friends Than A Lot of Other Lost Puppies.

I had to ask Sweet Pea to Get Out of My Bed when I Got Home but I asked him Nicely and tried not to be like one of those Hoodlum Dogs who Don't Know How To Share. I sat in my Bed and looked up at My Momma and she was Crying Again and telling me that she Didn't Know What she would have done if I hadn't Come Back. I tried to Explain to Momma that she Should Have Known I'd Come Home because I am Savannah Savannah Savannah and I Know Who Loves Me and I Know Where I Belong. It just took Longer Than I thought it would To Get  Back Here and I hope those New Neighbors Across The Road have Learned a Good Lesson about Fireworks.

Every time Momma walks by me now she Holds My Face between her Two Hands and she tells me Savannah Grace This House Sure Wasn't The Same Without You In It.  I just look at Momma and I try not to let her see that I'm thinking Well I Hope You Remember That When I Get Water On The Floor Or Go Splashing In Rain Puddles and then I Remember how Lonely it was In The Woods without my Momma Taking Me For Walks and my Daddy Taking Me To The Dog Park and Sweet Pea Sleeping In My Bed.  I even missed Mickey Kitty slapping me on my Nose and I hope Someone has taught that Outside Cat some Manners while I was Gone.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Day 12--- Miracle Day.

Gary and I left the house on Mother's Day morning at 10:30, planning to take down black/white posters of Savannah and put up ones in color. The black/white pictures had been put up hurriedly when we ran out of the better posters.  We also drove to a somewhat-local BBQ restaurant called "Truth" and my husband bought homemade cakes for our friends here who so relentlessly searched for Savannah. I think my husband and I both believed that Savannah was gone, just gone, and we wouldn't see her again, but we really needed to do something to thank our friends for their efforts and concern.

On the way back from the restaurant I began calling our friends to tell them we were on our way to their homes with a little thank-you gift for them. As my husband drove, we talked about Savannah and I said that wherever she was, I hoped she was happy and being cared for in a proper way... and maybe she was staying there because there was another puppy to play with. Gary asked me if that meant that I wanted to get another puppy and my immediate answer was "No. I'm not even over this one yet."

We got to K's house with the cake and she told us that during her morning walk with friend M, they had spotted dog poop along the walking path on J and L's pasture... they walk there every morning and hadn't even seen such evidence before that a dog had been on that part of L's property.  We told K that we would speak to J and L and ask them if we could walk along the path and search again for Savannah, even though every acre of that property had been searched over and over again during the last eleven days.

We got back into my husband's car and my cell phone was ringing. When I picked it up, I heard a voice saying "your dog" but that's all I heard until my husband turned off the car engine and I got better reception on my phone.  I said "Who is this?" into the phone and the voice I heard was that of our across-the-road neighbor, the one whose son had set off the mega-fireworks that had sent Savannah fleeing into the night on April 27th.  She asked me if I had found our dog yet and I tersely answered 'No.'  I didn't want to speak to her and had planned never to do so again.

But our neighbor persisted.... she said that her husband had seen a blonde and white dog speeding up our road and towards our house dragging a long blue leash behind her.  "That's Savannah!" I shouted into the phone. I told her we were five minutes away from home and would she please go over there and make sure Savannah didn't keep running or at least have a look and see which direction she ran if she didn't stop at our house.

As my husband drove towards home, we kept saying This is impossible, this is impossible.... could she have been close to home all this time while we were looking five, ten, and fifteen miles away?  We reminded ourselves that our friends had continuously checked their properties, the woods behind their pastures, the creeks, and even the catch-basins along the road-sides... no one saw any animal remotely resembling our Savannah so she couldn't have possibly been anywhere close by for all of these days.

When we pulled into our driveway, we saw the across-the-road neighbors in our yard... the wife by the gazebo in the side yard and the husband in the front yard. Savannah was not with them and as we got our of our car the neighbors were telling us that they lost sight of her because she was running so fast.  Gary went to the left of the garage, I went around to the right, both of us calling out Savannah! and thinking that if she were headed towards our back pastures, one of us would see her.

My husband, however, went up on the porch first, and there was our Savannah, sitting by the back door and leaning up against it, her long blue leash trailing behind her and stuck in the wood decking of the porch. As I was running along the side of the garage and heading towards the backyard, I heard my husband cry out "She's home! She's here! Right here!"  And there they were, both of them on the back porch near the door and all I remember saying at that point was "Savannah baby girl you found your way back home!" and then I was just crying and hugging her and my husband was crying and I was yelling out "Thank you! Thank you!" to the neighbors across the road... the same neighbors that I had vowed never to speak to again.  The neighbors yelled back that they were glad the three of us had a happy ending.

I started calling our friends... told them that Savannah was home, she was home, and she seemed to be fine except for a little bit of dirt and hundreds of sticky-burrs all over her. And one by one, and then two by two, they all came to our back door to say hello to Savannah and ask her where she had been and we gave them the cakes we had picked up at "Truth" and there wasn't a dry eye on our porch. We were all just crying and shaking our heads in disbelief as Savannah sat there looking at us as if she'd been gone for 10 minutes rather than 12 days.

While I was talking to the neighbors and pulling the burrs from Savannah's hair, my husband was feeding our prodigal dog bits and pieces of the smoked brisket he had just brought home from "Truth" and we all watched as Savannah gobbled everything up quickly. My friend Cindy kept telling her "Chew it, Savannah, chew it!" but Savannah was very hungry and kept eating that meat which had been nicely cut into precise chunks by my husband.

Gary and I are still more or less in shock. It is Monday morning as I'm typing now and I barely sat down all yesterday afternoon, except for typing a bit and making a couple of phone calls to my cousins in New York. Savannah's fur has been brushed, all the sticky-burrs have been removed, and except for a one-inch-long scrape on her left front paw, she seems to be fine. We will have her checked out by our vet, but we're giving her a day or so to settle in and settle down.

When Savannah first got home to our porch, she was panting and shaking and very anxious. She immediately recognized myself and my husband, as well as our friends who came here to welcome her home. I had been so worried that a 'different' dog would come back after all of those days in the woods but Savannah immediately resumed her inside-puppy manners the minute she walked into the back door. Her first stop was the water bowl, into which she promptly submerged half of her face and then dribbled most of the water onto the kitchen floor. Savannah's second stop was her bed in the corner of the breakfast room, which she happily curled up in but then got out of to follow us into the TV room. Savannah sat in front of us as we turned on the news and half-listened to it... she looked from me to my husband, then back to me again, then to Sweet Pea, and then Savannah slowly crawled up onto the sofa, right smack between us as she had always done, and tried to curl herself into a tight puppy comma. My husband looked at me and said "We really need to get a bigger sofa for Savannah."

I truly believe that the magic of love and the power of prayer helped bring Savannah back home. For all of Savannah's eight months with us, we had only walked her all the way up to the main highway three times. She didn't like most of the cars along our long and winding country road, and she barked at practically all of them during those long walks. As a result of that behavior, I decided to just walk her up and down our own road, which greatly lessened Savannah's chances of being familiar with all of the twists and turns of our hills here.

We have no way of knowing where Savannah was for the past twelve days. The pet psychics (both of them) told us that Savannah was far away, "much farther than you think."  Sonya Fitzpatrick said that Savannah's leash, collar, and tags were still intact and dragging; the Michigan psychic said that her leash and ID tags were gone.  Sonya told us that the day we rescued Savannah was the best day of her puppy life... that remark made us cry at the time, and it still makes us cry to think about it.

I know Savannah well enough to understand that she was overwhelmed by her experience. She is happy to be home, but was too exhausted to really enjoy her home-coming--- except for the brisket, which she gobbled up and looked for more.  My husband says that the next time he goes to "Truth" he will get two pounds of meat instead of just one.

It is ten o'clock on Monday morning as I type this. I have mopped up Savannah's dribbles from her water bowl twice since I got up, and I've had to sweep up dog hair on the kitchen floor six times since yesterday afternoon.  I have just three words to say now:   Life is good.                                                                                                                    

A note from Sweet Pea...

I was just beginning to get used to having a puppy in this house and now I can't find her anywhere even though I keep calling Savannah! Savannah! Savannah! all day long and my momma thinks I'm just meowing like I always do but it's so much more than that and momma has been sad for days and days now and that's making me sad too but there's not much I can do about it but sit on momma's lap and look cute and keep trying to make momma understand that Savannah is going to come back I just know it.

Momma doesn't know this but I was at the window when that big explosion happened last week while she and our puppy were out walking along the road but I can't tell momma that because I was up on the kitchen counter waiting for them to come walking back down the driveway even though I'm not technically allowed up on those counters but sometimes a cat just has to do what a cat has to do because we're cats and that's that and every time momma and the puppy went outside I was always watching by that window and waiting for them to come back.

When I heard that big cannon going off that night I saw a big gold and white blur just disappearing down our road and it didn't even stop at our driveway it just kept on going and before I realized that the blur was really our puppy it was gone into the dark and into the night and then the next explosion came just seconds later and the kitchen window rattled just as bad as it did with the first big boom and I knew something was very wrong but I was the only one in the house at the time so there was no one to tell and my people aren't always good at speaking cat because they don't think I have too much to say besides meow meow meow.

I kept looking out that window and then I saw my momma walking down our driveway and she was holding her arm and trying to hold her leg and there was red stuff on her face and her hands and dripping red on her white clothes and I knew right then that something awful had happened because momma would never go outside with anything dripping and then I heard momma calling Savannah! Savannah! Savannah! over and over again and she walked around the gazebo and around the cottage and all around the house and all the while there was more red stuff and more dripping and by the time momma got to the porch again she couldn't hardly get up the steps because she was crying from some places and dripping red from other places.

When momma opened up the back door I was still on the counter by the window and I started to get myself off of there real quick but momma didn't even notice where I was and she got the little phone and started punching in numbers and then she saw the red stuff on the phone and she just wiped it off on the towel that was right next to me on the counter and I thought she was going to tell me Get Down From That Counter Sweet Pea but she didn't say that at all and she took that little phone thing and went back out the door and I went back to the window and I heard momma talking to people and then calling Savannah! Savannah! again and again and again.

Next thing I knew there were people in cars and trucks all over our road and up and down our driveway and everyone was calling the puppy's name and then I really absolutely knew that the blur I had seen on the road right after the explosion was our Savannah but no one was inside the house and even if they were I don't think any of momma's friends speak cat anyway so I wouldn't have been much help especially since they all stop listening to me after I say the first meow.

It was hours and hours before everyone went home and momma came back into the house and then she looked in the mirror and saw the red stuff on her face and her hands and her arms and she said Oh My No Wonder Everyone Wanted Me To Come Inside And Wash Up and then momma got some towels and water and rubbed some of the red stuff off of her face and her hands and then she looked at me and told me that Savannah was missing missing missing because of the fireworks and where on earth could she be hiding and why were stupid people shooting off fireworks in April anyway.

Momma didn't go to sleep that night she just stayed awake with me on her lap and she kept rubbing her eyes with little white things and saying that it was all her fault all her fault all her fault and I tried to say how could it be her fault that the sky was falling and Savannah turned into a blur but sometimes momma doesn't speak cat very well and that was one of those times when her mind was more on Savannah than on me but I understood that because Savannah was lost lost lost and I was here here here.

I kept looking at the puppy's bed for a few days after all of that happened but I didn't sleep in it because momma said that Savannah was coming back and I believed that too so I stayed out of that big bed and slept in my own little bed but then after a few days that big bed just looked so sad in the corner there without our puppy in it so I decided the best thing to do was to keep it warm for Savannah and when she walked in the back door again I could point to the bed and say Taaa-daaah! There's your bed all ready for you! but that hasn't happened yet and it's been a lot of days now but I just know Savannah will be back home because there's just no other place better than our home.

My people keep going out with a big stack of pictures of Savannah and when they come back there's only a few left and you would think that someone out there somewhere must have seen our puppy because surely she must have slowed down by now and isn't just a gold and white blur running down a country road and who would want to keep our puppy anyway and even if they do they may change their minds when she barks in the middle of the night when everyone is trying to sleep and maybe momma should have put that on the paper with Savannah's picture so everyone would know that they won't be getting a lot of sleep if that puppy hears something out in their yard at two o'clock in the morning.

I've been sleeping in Savannah's bed every day now and momma doesn't tell me anymore that when Savannah comes back she's going to want her own bed all to herself and I want to tell momma that I really think Savannah won't be coming back until she knows for sure that all of those cannons won't still be going off across the road and she probably has found herself a really quiet spot now and doesn't want to leave and maybe there was even another puppy in the new place and Savannah may want to have another puppy to play with instead of just me inside and Mickey outside and who can blame her if she doesn't want Mickey because that cat kept slapping our puppy on the nose but I hope Savannah remembers that I have much better manners and even though I'm sleeping in her bed now I will get out of it real quick when Savannah comes back.

My people are missing our puppy and I am missing our puppy and I never thought I'd even want a puppy in my house but Savannah is a really good one and even though she was nervous around everybody when she first got here she wasn't that nervous with me because she knew she could trust me after I taught her how to speak cat and then she taught me how to speak puppy and then my people taught her how to love so I will keep trying to tell momma that Savannah will be back and I just know it's going to happen because I am the cat and that's that.

The 11th day...

I woke up this morning and the bed was empty. I thought my husband was at his computer in his office but as soon as I got out of bed and started walking, I knew the house was empty. If you really concentrate, you can tell when the only energy in a house is your own.

When I got downstairs to the kitchen, the stack of 'lost dog' fliers wasn't as high as the night before. I looked at the rack of keys and didn't see my husband's key-ring. It didn't take Sherlock Homes to figure this one out.... Gary had gotten up early, taken the fliers, and went looking for Savannah. My guess was that he was gone by first light.

I'm getting used to the house again without Savannah in it. Very quiet. No long golden dog hairs swirled on the dark green kitchen tiles. No crumbs of dog biscuits that need to be either swept up or shown to Savannah, telling her "Hey girl, you missed some pieces here."  Then I would tap the floor with the toe of my shoe and she would walk over and gobble up the crumbs.

I wake up in the morning now and my first thought isn't "Get up and walk Savannah before the people up the road start leaving for work." (She didn't like the vehicles of one particular family up the hill and she would bark at them as they drove by.)  Waking up is leisurely now because I know the cats will wait for their breakfast, for as long as it takes me to get it to them.  Savannah wasn't a 'morning dog' because she needed time to yawn and stretch and play with Sweet Pea a little bit before I put her leash on and took her out into the day.

I've been telling my husband that if we get Savannah back, I will no longer walk her along the road. She will use the backyard grass and that's it. And I want a fence put up, so she will have part of the yard as her own, to run around in and play in, without being able to get near the driveway or near the road. We have twenty-three acres here... surely there's half an acre we can fence in just for Savannah.

I've also come to the conclusion that if we don't find Savannah, we will probably, eventually, get another dog. I will not, not, not, NOT get a puppy that will eventually grow to more than 25 pounds. Had Savannah been smaller, I would have been able to hold onto her leash when those 'bombs' exploded on the across-the-road-neighbor's property.  Any dog would have been terribly frightened of those M-80 fireworks, but with a smaller dog, all I would have had to do was pick it up in my arms and carry it back to the house. Savannah's nearly 70-pounds'-worth of fear pulled me face-first to the road and knocked me out, and when I woke up Savannah was gone and my world had exploded with that first blast of the fireworks.

My husband walked in the door just before ten o'clock this morning. He told me he couldn't sleep and after working on his computer for a while, he left the house at 6:30 and he tacked up Savannah's fliers on telephone poles as he found new back roads. He said it was a beautiful and very still morning, the silence broken only when he called out "SAVANNAH!!" from the car window.

Savannah. I was so happy to give her that name. It seemed to fit our puppy somehow when we first got her.  I named her for one of my favorite cities... Savannah, Georgia. We've been to Savannah twice over the years and I would move there in a heart-beat.  It's a small and very pretty city with an aura of mystery that is hard to define but easy to sense.  The city of Savannah has a slight wildness that hovers just below the southern propriety of the old-soul-ness that defines that historical city... a quality that is more felt than seen.  I used to tell our Savannah that she was like an old soul, especially when she sat quietly in her bed as I typed. She watched me as I kept up with this Blog and I have to wonder if she knew what I was doing... telling her story every day because for some reason, I thought this puppy of ours had a good story to tell, and I sensed that from the very first day.

I have never been a writer of fiction. I cannot make things up. I have always written of real feelings, real thoughts, real events. And every word, every sentence comes effortlessly to me. I just write until I run out of words, then I go back and re-read everything twice, checking for misspellings and grammatical errors. Never in a million years would I have been able to sit down and type out a novel about a puppy with unlimited anxiety who comes into a home and takes weeks and weeks to learn how to trust the people who want to love her and then disappears just when it seems she has come into her own dog-hood. Savannah was finally able to trust us implicitly and love us as if she'd been ours since her first day on the planet, and now she's gone. Gone without a trace. As if she had never been here at all.

Day 10...

As I type, it is five o'clock in the afternoon... we have been out driving around since mid-morning. Fliers were left on post office walls, in windows of convenience stores, and in private mail boxes of houses that looked somewhat similar to ours. What if Savannah sees a big porch like the one we have.... wouldn't she go up to it?  The porch wouldn't have the same familiar odors, but it may prompt her to have a look-see and maybe someone will see her.

My husband arranged another telephone interview with a different pet psychic this morning... the woman lives in Michigan and she spent at least ten minutes looking at a map while we were on the phone with her. Shouldn't she have studied a map of our area before the clock started ticking on her fee?  I had faith in Sonya Fitzpatrick.... I didn't exactly have warm-fuzzies from this Michigan person. She gave us suggestions to look in another area for Savannah... in the exact opposite direction that Sonya Fitzpatrick told us to search. We had nothing to lose, except the fee she charged, so that's where we went.  We left home with such high hopes,  posted fliers, talked to people, ate Cracker Jack for lunch, saw a litter of puppies near a home that clearly didn't need more puppies, and came home disenchanted and emotionally drained.

As my husband pulled into our driveway, I looked across the road at the neighbor's house... the one who set off the bombs (fireworks) on Wednesday night of last week. The more I think of that family over there, the more I dislike them. Correction: the more I hate them. I barely know them, and I honestly hate them. It's all I can do to not go over there and tell them exactly what their careless actions have done... the chain of events following that first explosion have irrevocably changed our world over here on our side of the road. Is that woman over there even aware of that? Does her firework-shooting son know what happened to both me and Savannah that night after the first blast? Does the husband even care what we're going through?

I can really answer all three questions:  The woman told me 'Well, keep looking dear' when I saw her on the road and she asked me if I had found "the puppy." (The puppy instead of your puppy--- an unfortunate choice of words.)  The son has not come over here to either apologize or ask if he could help with the search.  And the husband... when I was out on the road looking for Savannah, he didn't stop his car when I tried to give him a flier... he just drove around me and continued on down the road.  What sort of people are they over there?  Ignorant and heartless, in my opinion.  The longer this goes on, the madder I get. I couldn't even fake being polite to them anymore if I tried, and believe me, I wouldn't even try at this point.

My husband was so sure, so very sure that today would be the day when we brought Savannah home. We found nothing except pictures of our Savannah in places we had already been, unwanted puppies in a dog-filled yard, and a "Clothing Optional" community off in the woods in a nearby town. My husband said that Savannah would fit right in there and go unnoticed because she wasn't wearing clothes when she ran away.  One light-hearted moment in an otherwise heart-wrenching day.

Day 9...

It has been more than a week now since Savannah disappeared. And that's how I'm beginning to think of this... she has just disappeared. It would be so easy to hide a seven-pound Maltese, but how does one hide a 70-pound Border Collie/Great Pyrenees?

I had been thinking that Savannah found a very good hiding place somewhere between our backyard and the furthest property near the main highway. I have walked and driven up and down our road here in the hopes of seeing her fluffy tail peeking out behind the shrubs, but that possibility seems pointless now. If Savannah were anywhere within our little community here, it would be very easy for her to find her way back to our porch.

With each day that passes, I tend to think that we will never see her again. I have given the open bag of dog food to friend Cindy, for her dog Jack. The open bags of treats went to Jack also... he's a big dog, larger than Savannah, and those big-dog treats will be just his size. I saved the unopened bag of Paula Deen's homemade dog kibble for Savannah, as well as the new bags of treats... the sweet potato/chicken treats are her favorites.... all natural, real sweet potatoes, real chicken.

Savannah's last Blue Monkey toy is in the laundry room, sitting on top of the windowsill by the washer/dryer, That little monkey stares at me with eyes that can't possibly see the pain I feel every time I look at him. I've lost count of how many times my husband had brought home a bag filled with those stuffed monkeys, so we always had a new one to give to Savannah when her sharp teeth tore through the blue corduroy fabric.  Keeping that little monkey in my laundry room is a silent reminder of what we have lost. And right now, I still want to be reminded. It's been a bit more than a week.... as time goes on, I may change my mind and send that Blue Monkey home with Cindy and tell her to give it to Jack.

I don't know how many more days I will continue to write here. This blog started off as a release of words, just because that's what I do, and what I've done for decades. Before the computer and the Blog, I wrote in blank notebooks, but typing is so much faster and easier. Shortly after starting this blog, my release of words turned into something more... stronger than a diary, it was turning into a book, and I figured that it was good enough to turn into a real book when it was done. I had planned then to keep a daily journal of Savannah's first year with us, and with that in mind, I've succeeded. I have failed, however, in keeping Savannah. She is lost.  L.O.S.T.  It's still so hard to believe that a dog of mine is lost. I don't lose things that are important, and I very rarely lose anything at all.

Everyone continues to tell me that it wasn't my fault... I couldn't have know that those massive fireworks were about to be set off... I couldn't have known that the neighbors were that reckless... we didn't know them that well.  The fact that I lost consciousness when I hit the road didn't even give me the opportunity to see which direction Savannah had chosen for her escape. I keep thinking of that old 'Chicken Little' story---- "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!"  And that is exactly what Savannah must have thought as she was speeding away from those cannon-esque  explosions.

I didn't sleep well last night, and I didn't even try going upstairs and getting into bed. I fell asleep in the breakfast room, sitting at the little table near Savannah's bed. Sweet Pea had been in the big-dog bed for hours last night, but he followed me into the TV room when I decided to sleep on the sofa in there. As I tried to get comfortable on the love-seat, Sweet Pea curled up on my chest and put his head over my heart. He has always been a very loving cat and the sound of a beating heart seems to calm him, even though he is a very serene and seemingly enlightened cat.

About two hours sleep was all I got last night, so I didn't take my car out today. I've caught myself drifting off to sleep ever since I got up this morning, and I refuse to take chances behind the wheel of a car if I'm not truly awake and alert.  My throat is sore from continually calling out Savannah's name as my husband and I drove along the country roads this week. My bruises are still a little bit sore as the black and blue marks turn to purple and yellow. More importantly, my heart is sore, just from the absence of Savannah. She was quite a presence, that big puppy of ours, and the house seems ridiculously empty without her.                      

The firework-neighbors across the road have had workers there this week fixing the roof of their house. All day long, hammer-hammer-hammer-hammer.... a relentless reminder that they live there.  I hate them, every one of them, but most especially the one who set off the fireworks, and I don't even know whose hand lit the fuse. But it doesn't matter because I hate them all.   It isn't a good thing to hate.  Hate takes energy, and such a pointless emotion is energy wasted... and time spent hating is time you'll never get back.  But I cannot forgive them, and I don't know if I ever will, and I wish they had never moved here on our road.

Today was a gorgeous day... warm and mild, sunny and blue-sky-beautiful. It would have been a dog-park day with Savannah.                                                                                                                                        

On the eighth day...

I left the house this morning with more 'lost dog' fliers with Savannah's picture on them. To date, there must be 150 photos of her sprinkled out there in our little town and the four smaller ones that surround us. My husband will bring home another hundred fliers when he gets home from work... all those photographs sent out into the universe, and not one phone call from someone saying "I think I found your dog..."

At the local thrift stores, they posted the fliers and gave me more lost-dog stories:  Sweetie came home after two weeks, covered in mud and sticky-burrs..... George was picked up by the mailman, just two miles away and that stupid dog couldn't find his way back to our farm..... Lucy ran after the UPS truck and then found her way home ten days later by following the propane truck..... General Lee took off after a wild pig and we never saw him again, bless his heart.

Along the way into town, I saw a deputy's car near the town park so I pulled into the parking lot and showed him Savannah's picture. He told me that copies of "that there dog" are plastered all over the station-house, and "everyone wearing this here uniform has been keeping an eye open for her."  I would have thanked the deputy more profusely but my eyes started to puddle up and I didn't want to start sobbing.

I left fliers at two more vet clinics that we hadn't gone to before... both of the girls behind the desk told me how sorry they were, they knew what I was going through, please keep hoping for the best, you just never know what can happen. I drove to the local animal shelter to make sure they still had our flier posted on their board... they did... and their driver has been notified to "be on the lookout for a dog named Savannah."

When I had finished my errands in town, I drove down the road to the dog park where we took Savannah every week. The park is closed now for repairs (damage from flooding from the heavy rains we had a couple of weeks ago). The dog park was deserted and empty, all the hoops and tunnels and ramps just reflecting the sun, the water in the swimming pools clean and shimmering. I called out to Savannah, once, twice, sixteen times... I didn't expect a bark in return because I've gotten used to not getting an answer now to my calls.  Her pictures are still hanging up on the bulletin board near the park entrance... 'Lost Dog: Her name is Savannah.'  Every time I see one of our fliers, I still shake my head in disbelief. I have lost my dog. Lost. My. Dog.

Last Wednesday night between 8:00 and 8:30... that's when the blast went off that sent Savannah flying down the road, bringing me face-down onto the pavement. Most of the open bruises have since healed, the palm of my left hand is scabbed over, my right wrist is black and blue, my right knee is greenish-yellow, the inside of my right arm is purple, and the right side of my rib-cage is one continuous ache. This morning was the first time I was able to get behind the wheel of my car and drive. I was so intent on looking along the roads for Savannah that I didn't even turn on the CD player today... the first time in over 20 years that Barry Manilow's music didn't accompany me as I drove. (My apologies to Barry, but he's a dog-lover and he would understand.)

The neighbors across the road are having repairs done to their roof and I can hear the hammering as the men work. If Savannah were here, I would have had to walk her in our backyard because she wouldn't have liked hearing that noise as we walked along the road. Compared to the sound of the fireworks that those neighbors exploded into our world last week, those hammer sounds are like pins dropping on cotton.

I have an empty feeling lately... I don't want to think this way, but I honestly think that we will never see Savannah again. If someone had indeed picked her up and wanted to keep her, she can easily be hidden in a backyard or a back pasture with other dogs, especially on these quiet county roads where the house is set so far back that it can't even be seen from the road.

With all the fliers posted all over this area, one would think that someone, somewhere, had seen our Savannah... seen her gold and white long-haired fluffy self dragging that blue leash behind her... they surely would have called the number on her tag if they are true dog-lovers... had they seen the posters, surely they would have wanted to reunite her with her own people.

As I type this, Sweet Pea is sleeping in Savannah's bed. For the first three days that Savannah was gone, Sweet Pea would walk up to that bed and sniff it, then walk away. On the fourth day, Sweet Pea walked into the bed and curled up, and he's been doing that every day since. Sweet Pea has his own bed and favorite chairs in the TV room but he has abandoned those now, preferring the king-sized expanse of Savannah's dog-bed to his own cat-sized accommodations.

I was very angry yesterday at the 'imaginary' people that could have taken Savannah. I didn't exactly wish them well... in fact, I wished all sorts of bad things for them. Not exactly a nice thing to do, but when you think someone has stolen your dog and hasn't let you know where to come get her, there's no telling what kind of bad karma you're willing to risk.

This afternoon, I find myself wondering if Savannah is eating well... is she too hot or too cold?  Does she remember her life here? Would she recognize me or my husband after another week of not seeing us? If she is with other people now, does she trust them? Are they good to her? Are they brushing her and making sure her nails are clipped? Are they hugging her? Are they loving her?

It hurts like hell to not know the answers. It hurts like hell to not have her here.

It just flat-out hurts, and I'm not talking about my bruises... it's my heart that hurts.

The seventh day...

My husband and I left the house mid-morning and were driving around till the middle of this afternoon. We went back to the town nearest to ours and drove around the side-roads because two of our friends were zig-zagging around the residential streets last night. Today was a beautiful day, sunny and warm with a gentle breeze... the sort of day that we would have spent in the dog park with Savannah.

After driving around those back roads, we took a main road into another small town that we hadn't checked before.... up and down those streets we went, leaving a flier at the post office and the two stores in town. There's just a bit over 500 residents in this particular town... one would think that someone there would see a 65-dog dragging a long blue leash behind her.  We stopped in a convenience store to post a flier and get something to eat and drink. Muffins of some sort, and orange juice. We each got a different flavor muffin and Gary asked me if mine was good.  My answer was "I don't know, I can't taste it. I'm just eating it because I didn't have breakfast and I'm hungry."

One of the people who took a flier from us said that she would tell her family who lives one town towards the south.... so we drove to that town to post more fliers. Another small town with just a few hundred people, if even that. We called out Savannah's name along the two-lane road, expecting a bark in return. We did indeed get barks, but not from our Savannah. We took turns calling out Savannah's name along all the roads... my husband said if we ever get another dog, we need to pick a one-syllable name.

We gave fliers to the mailmen we saw along the county roads, and to the ladies working in the convenience store. Everyone had a lost-dog story for us.... Blue came back after six days.... TigerLily hobbled up the driveway on the 13th day... Hero waited two months before he found his way back to the barn. They all told us not to give up hope. How can we give up hope? That's all we have left.

One of our friends along the road here suggested that someone may have caught up with Savannah along the main highway or just as she arrived in the next town. "She's a pretty dog. They may have decided to keep her, or even sell her to someone farther away."  My husband and I thought of that on Day Two of this fiasco.  If that's the case, then we'll have to live with that, with not knowing Savannah's fate.

When I told that scenario to my special friend Corey, she said "Well, someone may have taken her but maybe they won't keep her because she's not such an easy dog to take care of."

With that in mind, this is for the person who may have Savannah right this minute, hidden away in a backyard, with intent to keep her for their own:

1.  Savannah is afraid of loud noises.... the louder the noise, the more afraid she is. She doesn't mind thunder as long as she's in the house, and she doesn't mind the rain either as long as she can splash in the puddles. I suggest you keep a large towel for drying her off after her puddle-splashing.

2.  She will eat as many bluebonnets as she can find. She'll pull up the paint-brushes and the yellow Texas stars, but she'll spit those out as soon as her nose finds another bluebonnet patch. Too many bluebonnets in her stomach will make her vomit, and it won't be pretty.

3.  Savannah's hearing is excellent, more than excellent. She can hear an armadillo out in the yard, or a raccoon on the porch, and her roaring bark in the middle of the night is earth-shaking. At first, you may be annoyed at her after-midnight barking, but you will learn that she is protecting you and your home and she doesn't bark without a good reason. When she barks just once, she is wanting you to go look out the window to make sure nothing is there. If she barks (roars, really) four or five times, then you can bet the ranch that something is definitely out there.

4.  She doesn't like cheap dog food, so don't even try. Buy the best you can afford and supplement that with the fresh rotisserie chickens from HEB. She prefers the dark meat, but only because she didn't get any of the white meat because that is my husband's preference.

5.  Savannah loves cats as long as they respect her space. She won't be nasty to them if they get into her bed or drink from her water bowl, but she will use her nose to push them out of the way. If they take a swipe at her, Savannah will just back away and go sleep someplace else. Her first choice will be your sofa, so I hope you don't have a small love-seat.

6.  For as long as we've had her, Savannah has been ultra-cautious around people she has never met. She will bounce up and down and want to play with every dog she sees, but it takes a while for people to earn her trust.

7.  She won't beg at the table for food, but she will stay close by while you eat and just look at you with the eyes of an old soul. If you choose to share your meal with her, she will take the pieces gently and then sit by your chair and wait for more. She won't be insulted if you give her just one bite, but she'll do her best to make you feel guilty.

8.  Savannah loves car rides, especially if you play Barry Manilow CDs and sing along with the music. She thinks you're singing to her and she listens very carefully. I don't know how she feels about country/western music because Manilow is my music-of-choice in my car and in my house. Please let her sit inside the vehicle, not in the back of a truck... Savannah is a living, breathing puppy, not a sack of deer feed or a case of beer.

9.  She is not exactly a morning puppy. You can take your time and have some tea or coffee when you wake up, without having to rush her out the door to use the grass. Savannah takes her time stretching and yawning and waking up, and she will watch you drink your orange juice and feed the cat before she sits by the door to be taken outside.

10. Because of her long hair, Savannah gets brushed every day, and she seems to enjoy it as long as you aren't rough with the longest hair along her tail.  If you talk to her while you're brushing her, tell her she's the prettiest puppy in the Hill Country and you will be rewarded with the biggest smile she can give.

11.  Savannah will be needing her adult vaccinations right about now. She's not going to like the vet's office, and she definitely will not like the injections, but again, if you talk gently to her while the doctor is pricking her with the needle, your voice will calm her. Savannah also likes to be hugged when she anxious... one hand on her chest and the other around the base of her neck... she will put her head up against your chest and listen to your heart beating.

12. That puppy was a nervous bundle of broken expectations when we adopted her. We worked hard with her to earn her trust, and we were rewarded with an unconditional love that enveloped myself and my husband, our cats, and our friends that Savannah saw each week.

13. You have an exceptional puppy there who has the best traits of Border Collie and Great Pyrenees beating inside of her loving puppy heart. Treat her with respect and love, and you will be rewarded in kind. If you abuse or neglect her, I hope she bites both of your hands off just above the wrists, jumps up against your flat-screen TV and renders it useless, crashes through your front window so your cat escapes, soars over your fence and brings it smashing down on the windshield of your beloved vehicle, and then miraculously finds her way back to us where she belongs.

The sixth day...

I feel myself getting numb again. I'm doing what needs to be done in the house but it's like everything is being accomplished by a robot. And I can't help looking out of all the windows to see if Savannah is running up our hill or through our pastures, on her way home and back to her life with us.

My husband and I drove into the next town last night, certain in the hope that we would find Savannah on one of the streets there. We saw lots of dogs, but not ours. We start out on these evening drives with so much hope, and then come back home defeated. It's as if she vanished, just disappeared as if she had never existed.

This morning we had to call the air-conditioning company to check the system which wasn't working properly yesterday. They discovered a snake had crawled up into outside unit and when the air conditioner clicked on, the snake was caught in the fan... which has to be replaced now along with the motor. At any other point of the year, I would have been complaining about living in the country and being exposed to snakes... and now I'm just worried about Savannah encountering a snake in her travels. One bite from a poisonous snake and she'll really be gone, not just lost-gone.

We had rain again last night, which cooled off the temperature. Now Savannah is wet, but at least we didn't have thunder last night. With each loud noise she hears, she's probably running for cover again and again and again. We've posted up so many fliers that I've lost count. And this morning when the air-conditioning guy left, I gave him a flier and asked him to post it in the office when he gets back. The technicians drive all over the county on service calls... maybe one of them will see Savannah.

The guy this morning asked me how she got lost, and I told him about the fireworks from across the road. He looked at me and said "In April?! Who shoots fireworks in April?!"  I nearly laughed.... everyone who has heard this story says the same thing.  I can barely look across the road now at that neighbor's house, and I will seriously have to bite my tongue the next time I see them anywhere.

As I type, Sweet Pea is sleeping in Savannah's bed, all curled up in a corner of it. He wouldn't go near that bed the first few days Savannah was gone, even though he took a nap in there every other day, whether Savannah liked it or not. I have put away Savannah's food dish and water bowl. It was just too sad to keep seeing them in the corner of the kitchen. Her pink velvet leash is still on the chair by the door, and I'm praying that she's still wearing her long blue leash which would make it easy for someone to grab hold of her. Savannah's sense of caution around strangers will make it difficult, if not impossible, for her to approach anyone.  Surely, she must know that people will have food, and if she's hungry enough, she needs to take a chance and trust someone to feed her.

I also know that someone may find her and decide to keep her. She is a pretty dog, and very loving when she learns to trust. If the person who finds her decides not to call my phone number on the ID tag, then I have to hope that they will love her and take care of her and keep her safe.

My phone is quiet most of the time. Friends call to ask if we've had any news about Savannah, other friends send me an eMail because they don't want my phone to ring 'busy' if someone is calling to say they've found Savannah.  I used to get upset with Savannah when she barked in the middle of the night, and now I wake up in the morning and feel immediately sad because she is no longer here to bark for us.

I do not pray a lot, if ever. I don't know if there really is a God up there or out there or everywhere, and I don't have enough faith to just blindly believe. I was raised Catholic and I believed what I had to believe when I was in the Catholic schools, but I questioned everything, all the time, and got in quite a lot of trouble with the nuns for my faithless doubts.  When I was older and no longer under the watchful eyes of the nuns and priests, I came to my own conclusion that we are all our own gods, that the life and destiny we either enjoy or endure are of our own making, and no amount of prayers to a 'supreme being' will make our lives better or different.                                                                                  
That is just what I believe, and I don't try to impose that upon anyone else, nor do I disrespect whatever anyone else chooses to believe.  I strive to be kind and compassionate and generous to everyone I know. I trust everyone until they give me a reason not to trust them. I have loved everyone in my life without judging them, because we all walk this earth in the shadow of our past experiences. With certain people along the way, the hurt and pain got to be too much for me to endure, and then I just walked away and never looked back. I did that not to hurt them, but to save myself from hurting.

With all of that being said... last night before going upstairs, I looked out of the window and down the road, hoping to see my sweet Savannah running towards the house. Then I looked up at the sky and without thinking, without even planning to, I whispered  Please God, bring Savannah home. The words just came tumbling out, as if they were waiting to be released into the universe.