My cell phone rang this morning before I'd had my first sip of coffee. Nobody but my sister dials my phone that early. I had a mild sense of alarm when I saw that the caller was Son #1.
Son #1 has a Rottweiler the size of an Angus bull. His name is Axel. He weighs about 160 pounds. He's a sweet-natured dog, and he's pretty smart, but he does what he wants.
Axel had gotten out of the house this morning and had run off and wouldn't come back. My son's finance had to get to work and couldn't spare the time to go looking for him. My son wanted to know if I could go over to his house, find the dog, and put him inside the house.
I understood my son's concern. A neighbor had threatened to shoot Axel if he caught him on his property. The same neighbor had shot Axel's girlfriend a year ago when she ventured into his yard.
I quickly put on some clothes, grabbed my coffee cup, and headed to my son's house (four miles away), hoping that Axel's big, dumb ass would be stretched out on the porch when I got there.
He was no where in sight.
I called and called and called. He did not come.
I got in the car and drove down the road, looking for him, calling his name. Nothing.
I drove up and down the highway, turned down the side roads. No Axel.
I went back to my son's house, hoping the dog might have come home while I was driving. I got out of the car and called some more. No sign of the dog.
My phone rang as I was getting back in the car to drive around some more. I figured it was my son, calling to see if I'd found Axel, and I was dreading having to tell him that I had not found the dog. At the same time the phone rang, it also beeped with the sound it makes for incoming text messages. There was a whole stack of them.
The caller was The Husband, wondering if I'd found Axel. While I talked to him, I put on my glasses and read the text messages. Twenty-two minutes earlier, my son had texted, "She found him."
Axel had been inside the house the whole time.
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