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.