TAKEN. (but with less violence)

Today something truly frightening happened… my furbaby little quiet man Patrick was taken! And just like Liam Neeson I was prepared to unpack my secret skillset that would surely reek rampage across this tiny town-like city I call home.

My good friend, Lindsey, and her hubby were at the house and ready to jump on the case of the missing mini-man with me. I had just seen Patrick minutes before their arrival sunbathing in the backyard. When they arrived I assumed my shy little guy was hiding from the socializing, but as time went on and he did not make an appearance, I grew worried…

Rewind to minutes before their arrival…

I had been taking out trash and picking up a bit before their visit. In an unlikely move, I used the side gate to take out the trash. I don’t often use that gate because the lock is a bit unreliable if not closed with care. In my haste, I ignored my own rule, and trouble ensued.

The faulty lock and my brain failed me, and my curious quiet little fur-boy got out of the backyard, making his way on a grand adventure down the street and back. Onlookers depicted his moves as slow and simple. He sniffed and partook in sightseeing of the nearby front yards. My neighbor, three doors down, witnessed the entire adventure but wasn’t sure which house exactly Patrick had come out of. The good Samaritan he was, neighbor decided to catch Patrick and get him home.

Neighbor man followed Patrick, attempting to get his attention and scoop him up. Patrick, knowing well the rule of “stranger danger”, walked away from him and made his way back home. My little man made it all the way back to the side gate he had gotten out of, but unfortunately I had already closed it whilst looking for him. As he waited by my gate, the neighbor lured him away with bacon (why did he have bacon at the ready? Wish I had asked). And just like that, Patrick was taken.

The story goes that this man went to the park screaming out, “is anyone missing their dog??” Until his voice was hoarse from yelling. He then took Patrick to a vet (where did he find a vet open and available so quickly? Yet another unanswered question). The vet checked him out and checked his chip (which I thought had been updated but allegedly is not).

By this time, I’m worried. But I am trying not to panic and concern my guests. I was likely going to try to politely send them on their way so I could frantically ride the tricycle around looking for him. Being the good friends they are, Lindsey played with Peanut while hubby offered to take a lap around the neighborhood and look for my missing little man.

I was torn between running in to check on Peanut and running out to look for Patrick. Thankfully, there was a quick and happen ending to this tale. Neighbor man was outside getting ready to make signs for a “Found dog,” when he saw my friend looking like he was looking for something.

After providing a description of Patrick, including his cute little shirt he was wearing, the nice neighbor guy gave my good boy back!

It was bizarre, to be honest. The entire adventure lasted less than two hours. When we went outside looking for Patrick, it was as if time had stopped. It was eerily silent to the point where I swore I could hear his little paws clicky clacking on the cement at a distance. There wasn’t a soul in sight. I stood there in the middle of the street, frantically looking around and not know where to even begin. What direction would I go in?

Needless to say, I am grateful. Grateful Lindsey and hubby were here to help, grateful for my dog-loving neighbor, grateful to have my boy back home, and grateful I didn’t have to unleash my Liam-like skills on anyone.