Yesterday I mowed the lawn and didn't lock (although I did latch) their fence. This morning I let them out into their yard at 7:30 a.m. and then when I went back out at 9:15 a.m. the gate was open and they were nowhere to be found.
I threw on some clothes, walked to the end of the driveway and out in the field in all three directions, nothing. I yelled and whistled (I'm a good whistler), nothing. I called both my neighbors and then yelled and whistled some more, nothing.
I got a cup of coffee, yelled and whistled again and here comes a mud caked Bear running, straight into the house. I yelled for Rowser and here comes Bette from next door and Rowser following along. She found them out next to her house heading towards the winery, called them, and they came. Whew, I'm so relieved, they are in such trouble.
Now I love my dogs, but they sure have a penchant for getting in trouble and that trouble always seems to include mud. When I lived in the city they dug under the fence and went swimming in the neighbors pool twice. Luckily for me, the neighbors were nice, because judging on the amount of mud Bear came home with, the pool had to have looked much worse.
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