Not Again

This past Saturday we were working in the yard, cleaning planter beds, making things look purty, blowing leaves from the driveway and pulling weeds. Afterwards we loaded up Miss Holiday—it’s what I call my car because she’s blue and is named after Billie—and took the debris to our local waste and recycling center.

We came home, and took some iced tea, and Tuxedo to the back deck to enjoy the cool weather and to chat  for a while, and then went back inside. Around dinner time we noticed it … no Consuelo. Now, she sleeps in the sunroom, on the couch, behind the couch, on a table, under  a table, or in the kitchen to be near the food bowls when the dinner bell rings, but she could not be found. 

No Consuelo. Not. Again. Rooms were searched, cupboards, too. Closets. Drawers. Everywhere. No Consuelo. Not. Again. We walked the back yard and looked under the lower deck where she hid the last time she escaped. No Consuelo. We searched the trees, the shed, the well, the side yard. No Consuelo. We saved the trap we used the last time she escaped and so we set it out again with food to try and catch her. No Consuelo. 

I began to worry that she’d run out from the kitchen through the garage when we were working outside and was out front, where she could easily slip into another yard or, worse, into the street. Carlos was certain she was in the back yard, but., as the hours passed and we didn’t find her, I went dark … and assumed we’d just never see her again. I was furious, not so much at Carlos, because we know she sneaked outside when he held a door open too long, but at the situation. I couldn’t even talk about her.

That night. Carlos was practicing his trumpet and I thought that if she was out front, she’d hear him, and remember how she gets treats after his practice. So I wandered the front yard with the box of treats calling for her; no Consuelo. I took the treats to the backyard, shaking the box and calling her.

And there she was, under the deck steps. Scared that she was trapped outside …AGAIN … and scared she was in trouble. I slowly walked own the steps with the flashlight, looking for her, and saw her under one step. I put the treats down, but she wasn’t having it. I coaxed her; called her Pretty Baby because she loves that; she was not having it. Finally, I was not having it, and I reached under the stairs and snatched her up.

Safe again …until the next time????

And here are the Good Kids …who didn’t escape over the weekend and make one of their Daddies cry.

MaxGoldberg, sunning himself on Sunday morning.

Ozzo, napping in the office, which, at his age, is the most exciting thing he does all day.

Tuxedo, who wasn’t pleased I was taking pictures of the others first, simply would not cooperate