Cricket went missing this afternoon and was gone several hours before he finally followed a nice man on a walk with his own little dog, right to our block. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway since this is my blog, I panicked and went from door to door search and calling for him with his picture. I sent a email with his picture to all the California animal shelters, using petharbor.com. I updated the contacts on his microchip.
First we searched the palms and brush in the backyard in case he had gotten caught, screamed himself to sleep and was still there snoring loudly. But no. We searched to nooks of the house and yard where he may have chewed on the wrong cord. Thankfully, no. I looked under the sink where I hid the ant "discouragement." No.
I fretted about who might be cooking up a batch of Peke soup for dinner, with bean sprouts and fresh ginger. I add the two ingredients in my mind since he is, after all, a Chinese breed originally bred to entertain the young girls of the palace. Starting with the wolf, over two thousand years ago. Frankie went in his room and laid down on his bed.
We drove around and called for him and even took Miss Peach for her help. Help, ha. Hell, I was afraid maybe she finally ate him!
Anyway, the man who brought him back didn't stay to witness the tearful reunion. He had things to do.