Monday, November 30, 2009

without a trace

Meet our Welsh Corgi, her name, or title I suppose, is Lady Diana- Princess of Wales. We just call her Di for short, and forgo all that regal formality. We recently had a really ferocious thunderstorm, and with the metal roof of our new home, it was sounding more like a monsoon! Michael went outside to check it out, and to, as they say, batten down the hatches! Her highness was very curious to say the least, and followed her master everywhere he went. They checked out the barn, and the garden shed, they walked through the "maybe someday guest cottage", they checked all the gutters, and down spouts, and they even checked under the house, all in the dark, in the rain, together, master and princess. I don't know what they were looking for exactly, but they didn't find anything concerning, and master came in for the night, and Princess stayed in her "castle" (garage, but don't write me nasty e-mails, she likes it there, she told me so!)

The next morning Di was gone. Gone I'm telling you, vanished with only a trace of shiny golden fur left behind,and an uneaten bowl of original flavor Beneful. I called and called, not a bark, not a whine, not a trace, no Diana!I went in to ask the kids, "seen Di this morning?" I questioned. "No" they chimed, and we all filed out to search and call. We called and called, not a bark, not a whine, not a trace, no Diana. We called some more. Kartwright hopped in the van and went to check the neighbors, we continued to call, we whistled, we clapped, we whooped, we hollered, no bark, no whine, no trace, no Di. Panic started to set in, and can I just say right now, and don't judge me, but I'm not really a dog lover. I know, what am I saying right? I like dogs, their cute, and furry, and they love you no matter what, but they are dogs, and you know what kinda things dogs know! Anyhoo, I didn't want to lose Diana, I was quickly discovering just how much I liked that shrimpy furball, with every call, every clap, every whistle, without a trace! I had visions of her laying in our woods injured, and unable to respond, hurt and broken by some horribly wild coyote or something.

Kartwright Di. We searched the barn, he searched the garden shed, he searched the "maybe someday guest cottage" trace. I called the local animal shelter, no Corgis. The kids were worried, I was worried, she always came when we called, and since we moved to our new house, she had not ventured far from home. I remembered the storm, and all I could think is that she got afraid, and left....or worse, she saw the dog crate in the garage that had just recently been placed there, and decided anything was better then the dreaded dog crate. (she always hated that thing). So we called some more, not a bark, not a whine, not a trace!

So I did what I always do when I'm in a panic, and want to cry, I called Michael. He said all the right things, he assured me, he said she would come back, but I knew he knew what I knew, and that wasn't good. So, we called some more, but no trace. Soon Michael was home, and can I just add here, that Michael is also not a dog lover. He likes dogs, I mean their cute, and furry, and they love you no matter what, but they are still dogs, and we all know what dogs do. He was quickly discovering how much he liked that shrimpy furball. He called and clapped and hollered, but still, no Lady Di. The kids and I went in, and Michael went lookin. He was back in just minutes with a big smile. The master had found the princess locked under the house. We were ecstatic, she was ecstatic, and all was well in the Corgi kingdom, and she was really glad to be back in her castle (garage).

1 comment:

Abigail said...
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