In the last episode of “RVSue and her canine crew,” RVSue realizes Roger is missing from their Arizona home when he doesn’t come running at the call for supper.
Sunday, March 24 (continued)
“Come on, Reg. We have to go look for Roger.”
I snap Reggie into his harness, put him on-leash, and we head out the front gate to the street. I watch Reggie closely, hoping he will indicate which way we should start our search. (I once had a dog respond to my request for help. He led me down railroad tracks through town to his best pal who had run off.)
“Go this way? Okay.”
You’re probably wondering . . . .
Why don’t I drive the Perfect Tow Vehicle around the neighborhood?
Well, for one thing, it’s hitched up to the Best Little Trailer. I don’t want to lose precious time unhitching and then opening the double gates. Also, when one of the crew has escaped in the past, every time someone quickly scoops him up and puts him inside their house or yard.
Given a chance, Reg and Rog come home after a few minutes.
Maybe walking around with Reggie will signal any “rescuer” to come out with Roger. How long has he been gone? A few minutes? An hour?
As we walk I check the fenced yards. When we arrive at Tom’s house, Tom is sitting on his porch.
“Tom, Roger has run off! Keep an eye out for him, okay?”
“Oh, no! Roger’s lost?”
He jumps to his feet.
“I’ll go look for him.”
In a flash Tom is on his new, red scooter buzzing around the neighborhood, circling all the blocks.
A car slows for a stop sign. I grab the attention of the driver as she comes to a stop. She promises to let me know if she sees Roger.
During all this, Reggie is enjoying the walk. No sign of distress.
Back at the house . . .
Quickly I put together a Lost Dog poster. Reggie and I walk to the cluster of mailboxes and I tape the poster in a place where I’ve seen “lost pet notices” in the past.
I wish I had a printed photo . . .
Tom reports no sign of Roger. Darn. It will be dark soon. “I’ll give it another try.”
“Thanks, Tom.” If Roger were wandering around, we would’ve seen him by now.
I put out an All Points Bulletin.
I go online and spread the word across the neighborhood via our internet grapevine, giving plenty of information, including our phone number and a photo of Roger, his sweet self surrounded by our yellow flowers. Replies come in from neighbors, lots of concern and promises to keep a watch out.
But the phone doesn’t ring.
“Well, Reg, it looks like we have to wait for tomorrow. Roger will come home tomorrow. He will, sweetie. I know he will.”
Gee, Reggie is taking this awfully well. (He nearly had a stroke when Roger stayed a few hours at the vet’s in Dillon, Montana.)
I turn on the front porch light and we go to bed.
Reggie curls up next to me, as usual, and I stroke his fur. Roger’s empty spot seems enormous.
Well, Reg is a bit subdued but not anxious. That’s a blessing. Tomorrow I’ll go to the library and print out photos of Roger and distribute them to animal control, vets’ offices, post them in supermarkets . . . . I’ll call the microchip people, check the web . . . . I’ll make more signs for the road . . . . Knock on doors . . . Oh, Roger! PLEASE COME HOME!
For the first time since moving into our Arizona home, it’s just me and Reggie. The porch light stays on all night.
~ ~ ~
In the middle of the night . . . .
I awaken to the sound of dogs fussing with each other. One is wailing. Could that be Roger? I throw back the covers and run to the back door, turning on the patio light. Stepping out in my bare feet, I listen. Silence.
That seemed to come from the south, not far. Tomorrow I’ll drive over to the next block and go door-to-door.
~ ~ ~
Monday, March 25
Reggie and I go to the back door for his potty run. As I pass the laundry room window, I glance out at the Perfect Tow Vehicle parked in the back yard where it is hitched to the Best Little Trailer.
“Roger? Roger? ROGER!!!!!”
There’s Roger sitting in the driver’s seat! His eyes are full of yearning as he peers out at me.
I bolt out the patio door and run to him.
“Roger, honey! Oh, you poor thing! I am soooo sorry!”
Babbling apologies, I scoop him up and carry him inside. Setting him down at the crew’s meal station, I go to the fridge and retrieve his dinner from yesterday.
“Rotisserie chicken, Roger. Your favorite. You must be starved.”
Roger scarfs it down so fast Reggie doesn’t have time to get jealous. I fix Reg a bowl of chicken and add a few more bites to Roger’s.
“Gee, Reg. Isn’t it great to have Roger back? Here we were stirring up the whole neighborhood and all the time Roger was in the back yard.”
Reggie knew where Roger was. That’s why he wasn’t upset. What must he think of me? What did Roger think, out there all night?
Life returns to normal.
Roger and Reggie attack each other for the first of many, joyous play-fights this day.
Roger and Reggie run to the barking corner of the front yard.
Roger makes it clear to the bad ol’ school bus (and to our neighbors) that . . .
Roger Is Back And In Charge!
Gosh, Roger. Why didn’t you bark like that when you were shut up inside the PTV?
NOTE: I’ll include more photos in the next post. I didn’t want to hold up the conclusion of this little tale about Roger. — Sue
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