"Who Let the Dogs Out? un, un, un un"

A Story on Jeff

Our Cameron kids are trying to sell their house again to move to St. Joseph to be closer to the schools where they teach and to be closer to Kris and me- yeah sure. But to do so, they have asked us to take their dogs Bailey and Gibson in as boarders. So we have 4 dogs living with us. Our dogs Cooper and Moses are used to the routine, we often have their dogs here, as well as Rocket from Minnesota and Bear from St. Louis (we just hope that we don't get a call from the city asking use to get a kennel license).

I got home last night from Minnesota, leaving Kris to play with Yakob for a week, and was greeted by all 4 pooches, tails wagging, jumping with excitement and joy... not to see me, but because I have spoiled them and whenever I come in, they all expect yummy and munchy treats. Kris is not happy about this routine, but they don't bother her, so what the heck.

I proceeded to drop the munchies into their drooling mouths, and let them outside to do their business (yep, you should see our back yard !.. I am waiting for another hard freeze so that I can do pick-up duty).

Soon with scratching on the gill covering the door notifying me that they are finished, I let them in. They all rush in at fifty miles an hour, and in a blurr... just a trail of brown, black, gray and bits of white, and of course they all get another treat. I comply to get them off my back, then I get ready for a nice quite evening alone. The dogs all have their own places and spots, so they don't bug each other- their own territory. All is quite on, the front.

After several hours of TV, unpacking the car during commercials, filling and emptying the washing machine, and just plain putzing, I proceed to strip down to my scivies and prepare for bed... one last outing for the dogs... you know, their business. I take out my contacts, put on my glasses (without my contacts I can only see out of 1 eye), and let the dogs in. Not quite a blurr this time, as they know what time it is... I see 1 brown, another brown and a little grey object.... but no black .
I call out for Jenni's dog... "Here Gibson"... no response. "Here Gibson" ... still no response.

I begin to search the house.... upstairs bedrooms, basement where they sleep. No Gibson. I put on my slippers, and go outside... still in my scivies... "Here Gibson". Neighbors' lights do on.... oops, not a pretty sight.

Now I panic. This is Jenni's dog. My little girl's most faithful companion (besides hubby James). Had it been little Moses, well Kris knows I would not be too upset (only kidding)... What do I do, call Jenni at 11:30pm in Cameron, "hey your dog is gone".

She must of dug under the fence... she is not under the deck. "Here Gibson"...

I madly dash inside.... pull on my jeans and a sweatshirt, put my contacts back in, all the while in a real panic. Where did Gibson go? How far? How long has she been gone? Where are the keys to the car? Where should I look? I am all alone, who could I possibly help me at almost midnight?

As is enter the garage, I envision dragging a muddy scrappy Gibson into my nice new Honda CRV... if I can find her. No, I'll take the van. It is still messy from my trip. I open the garage door, hop into the van and begin backing out and down the drive. As I roll down the window, to begin my frantic calling, a slobbery black head pushes between the seat and the window and nudges my neck... Gibson !!!!!

As I made my multiple trips to the car to unpack, she must have slipped out and into the van with the lift gate open.

Notes to family:

Jenni- I will do better... Yes I can handle all for 4 dogs for a week all by myself !

Andy and Becky- I will learn from this experience, and promise not to let little Yakob get lost if given the chance !

Kris-Yes I will finish cleaning the car out before you come home, and the house will be clean.

As I write this, all 4 dogs are accounted for.