Brady ran away today.
He pushed out the screen window and was on his way out and about town — all by himself.
Apparently he romped in the the yard for a while before visiting with neighbors, bounding across traffic, and going on his own personal field trip.
He was missing for half the day.
But I didn’t know it.
I wasn’t home.
Neither was Brady.
Justin spent his “day off” searching for our pup. And, if you have dogs you know the terror-filled-heart-sinking-sidewalk-roaming feeling that takes over when you can’t find your dog anywhere in sight.
Someone in our new town gave Justin the tip that people usually call the local radio station when a dog goes missing and is found out roaming around. So, as a last ditch effort, after calling all the vets and animal hospitals, he called the radio station.
Someone found Brady.
They called the radio station to report that the missing dog was found.
Justin raced over to the kind woman’s house who found him and was reunited with Brady the Bandit.
Brady cowered at Justin’s feet as if he knew he did something wrong. Then, after a belly rub, he was back in action romping around with his rescuer’s dog in their yard, acting if nothing ever happened.
The entire time all of this occurred, I had no idea.
I didn’t hear a word of this until after the Missing Dog Adventure was completed and storyline wrapped up with radio station happy ending.
As I heard the story relayed to me, even after knowing all was good and well, my heart sank. All I could think was thank God I had no idea.
And it makes me wonder… is ignorance really bliss? Or is it just the easy way out?
I suppose all is well that ends well, whether we know it at the time or after the fact.
And I also know a dog who is getting a new leash on life — a short one.