A Tale of Woe...

The other day, I was talking to the Berry Queen on the phone. It was Tuesday, second day of deer hunt 2006. She mentioned that SuperNan hadn't been answering the phone. Berry Queen sighed and said that SuperNan was probably still upset about the dog.

This got my Spidey Senses tingling. What could be wrong with the dog? Initially I assumed that my brother's dog, who my parents are babysitting, had eaten something of value.

But I had to ask "Which dog?"

And Berry Queen stopped. Because clearly she shouldn't have said anything and clearly I did not know anything about any dog at that time.

My Dixe had gone hunting that morning and never came home. I sat feeling stunned, because I love Dixie. She is the best deer hound there is, and the best housepet there is. My precious nephew also tends to think that Dixie is his dog, and he loves her to death.

And she was gone.

I laid on my bed and cried. I curled up into my hundred and five year old frame, and cried until I felt I would throw up; until my throat hurt and my eyes were swolen and bright red.

I couldn't imagine anything worse than Dixie, alone in the rain and the forest. No kibble, no jacket, no family around her to keep her safe. Just her cute little self all alone, wet and afraid and with no warm bed to sleep in.

Dixie is a hilarious dog. We actually refer to her as Uncle Dixie. She is a wonderful deer hound. What makes her great? The fact that she comes when she's called.

Dixie turned six this summer. She is not a rookie deer hound any more, and there is really no reason for her to not come home.

Unless someone stole her.

The thought of someone else having my precious puppy turns my stomach. They will not love her the way I do. They will not ever say "Muppy Muppy Muppy" many times consecutively to make her whine and squeal with delight.

I could sit for hours thinking about the horrible things that could happen to a sweet little beagle like Dixie and it makes me want to be sick.

Fortunately, my parents got a phone call yesterday. All my tears were wasted because Dixie did not have to spend the night all alone in a big, scary forest. She was not stolen by big, mean, angry hunters who would not feed her table scraps and who would not let her sleep in a real bed.

Dixie decided to kidnap herself right into the nearest hunt camp she could find after spending a rather long amount of time running a deer the otehr day. I can just see her Beagle-y little slef waltzing in like she owned the place, sitting down beside someone's truck, and begging the nearest hunter for a piece of his sandwich.

The gentleman who found my Dixie was a very kindly man, indeed. He fed her, let her sleep on his couch over night, and called in the morning to say that he had her, safe and sound.

So, Dixie is back. After a long night of crying, worrying, despairing... my little puppy is safe.

Toonses