One Friday, our eleven year old black lab, Ransom, went missing from the yard. The Tooth Man (aka the husband) and Wallace Anne were playing with the rocks in the driveway (she likes to pick them up and put them in a bucket). Ransom, being the type of dog to always be in the way, was right there with them, nose to the ground, tail in the air. The Tooth Man, not really paying him much attention, said one minute he was there and the next he was gone. It was like he had vanished into thin air. He called and called his name but he never came back.
We searched the connecting neighborhoods, posted on Facebook, printed signs, and contacted Peanuts Friends. Throughout the weekend we received several messages of "sightings" of a black lab, but we never were able to find this elusive lab. Monday morning, as soon as the shelters opened, I called to see if someone had reported a found dog. No luck. At this point I was beginning to get a little distressed, when just an hour later a gentleman, Mr. Scott, called my clinic stating he found a black lab and thought he was mine. Seemingly, Ransom was on Mr. Scott's front porch when he returned home from work Friday evening. He said he knew he was somebody's dog because he could see where a collar had been. With it being Friday and the shelter closed, he let Ransom spend the weekend and called the Humane Society Monday morning, shortly after I had called, reporting him missing. The rest of the story is just a big old happy reunion.
Here is one fact I know to be true. If I had practiced what I preach, he would have been wearing his collar with visible identification and he would have been returned to us on Friday! A simple collar and identification tag would have saved us a lot of worry and given us a happier weekend. But nonetheless, our old man is back at home. He is at my feet as I type this blog (wearing his collar), passing gas and snoring. And to tell you the truth, those snores sound and that gas smells just like home!