So, I have today off of work. I finished up my Christmas shopping, baked some cookies for a party tonight, hung out with the kid. Stuff like that. So I let the dogs out at some point this afternoon, and proceeded to continue playing with Jane on the floor and half-watching a documentary about women and HIV. Good times. So I realize, after some time, that the dogs haven't burst in with their usual "HEY! It's Tuesday afternoon everybody!!" excitement. So I look out the front door. No dogs. I call for them. No dogs. I look out the back window. No dogs. I walk around the house (in the snow, in my pj pants and t-shirt). No dogs.
I (pardon my French) fucking flip out. MY DOGS HAVE LEFT THE COMPOUND.
I realized they had been outside for probably a good half hour. This is not abnormal on a nice day, but who knows at what point they decided to break free from the binds of the invisible fence? Was in a half hour ago? They could be in West Hartford by now!
I call Greg. I am freaking out, screaming for the dogs, putting Jane in her crib, and getting my keys. He tells me to drive around. He's an hour away so I'm on my own. I'm driving around the neighborhood like a lunatic, screaming "JIMMY!!!" and "JUNIOR!!!" and shaking a box of bones outside the window. I am praying that I don't see one of them in the road, hit by a car. I go around the block a few times.
I call Greg back. He tells me to keep looking. I'm telling him I'm sure the dogs are gone, and I'm never going to find them, and.....wait a minute....there the dumbasses are, frolicking in one of our neighbors' front yards. Thankfully, it's hard for Junior to go incognito when he's on the loose.
You have to understand - my neighbors do NOT love my dogs. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that about 90% of them hate my dogs. They are mostly quite elderly, and the idea of a 130 lb. dog, who often barks at them when they pass my house, does not strike them as "cute" and "audibly friendly." It strikes them as "deadly" and "motherf***ing scary."
So. I haul my arse out of the car, screaming for the dogs and waving my box of bones, crunching through the snow, which is a foot deep round these parts, and trying to get them to come to me. And even though both dogs "graduated" from dog training school, they don't really use their skills in the outside world. Instead, they oh-so-playfully ran away from me for quite a while.
After lurching around various yards like a complete maniac, I managed to grab Junior. Since Jimmy won't do anything alone, and will follow Junior to the ends of the earth, he followed us on the long trek up the hill to the house. After I locked them in, I walked back down the hill, got back home, and proceeded to have four or five drinks.
Ha, ha! No, I didn't. But I sure wanted to. Instead, I had to attend to my screaming, miserable baby, who realized that she is forever entrusted in the care of a lady who can't even control her dogs.