Almost Lost My Dog

Almost lost my dog.

Happened just the other day.

As I was crawling under a fence she took the opportunity to run away.

I don’t know why. She didn‘t say.

Worried me something awful, enough to make me pray.

Was she hurt? Was she dead?

Was it something I said?

I hit the button on her electronic leash, hoping she would hear the beep, but if she did there was no response, all was quiet, still no Dot.

I headed uphill for a better look where the trees played out and the grass was short. I called her name to no avail, longing for a sight of her wagging tail.

My worry grew. I had bad thoughts. I hoped she hadn’t chased a bird off a cliff and was lying on the rocks.

I hit the big button on the controller. It gives her a shock that usually elicits a cry, but I heard nothing. Was she already just too far away?

The country opened up and I could see for miles. Sagebrush, rocks and yellowed grass rose from the scattered cottonwoods along the lake shore to the top of the ridge.

Only my little black and white dog was missing from the landscape, hunting birds, I suppose, somewhere else with no regard for me.

I’d been shooting poorly. She might have gotten fed up, with little to retrieve except for the occasional duck.

Nearly to the top of the ridge, I stopped to catch my breath and turned back for one more look. My heart took a leap, for there she was, a half mile distant, high-tailing it in my direction.

Relief swept over me at the sight of my dog, all the sad, sappy thoughts leaving my head. Thank goodness, I thought, Dot’s not dead.

We had a talk. Some things needed to be said.

Almost lost my dog.

Happened just the other day.

Don’t know why. She wouldn’t say.

With apologies to David Crosby.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]