The yips and yowls of the coyotes sent shivers down my spine. My imagination took over as I thought about our missing dog facing the relentless scavengers that called from just over the hill. If that wasn’t enough, the evening storms caused another surge of fear as I visualized our furry friend shaking uncontrollably with every clap of thunder and gust of wind. Where could she find refuge? As the days went by the prospect of her return seemed to fade, yet every time we turned into the driveway, we anticipated her running to greet us, her tail wagging with excitement.
T-Bug had been with us for some time. About thirteen years ago she came to us by the loving arms our little granddaughter who arrived at our house with a present for Puppa. She thought her grandfather needed a special gift – a puppy. Every time one of our dogs died, Puppa determined he would never have another dog that would break his heart. But on that particular occasion, he looked at his little granddaughter who held a cute wiggling black mixed Lab puppy with warm brown eyes. How could Puppa refuse such a gift from a cute wiggling little girl with warm brown eyes? He named the puppy T-Bug for the little squirming girl who was sometimes called by the same name. That was convenient at times because if someone called, “T-Bug”, they both came running.
T-Bug certainly knew her master. She was an outside dog and if Puppa was outside, T-Bug was by his side. If she was left on her own and the neighbor’s dog was around, the two would sometimes run off together. I’m not sure which one was the instigator, but I have my suspicions. They could be gone for hours or overnight. When they returned, T-Bug was put in her pen and was only released for a short time only if Puppa was close by. She always redeemed herself and was allowed more freedom until the next time it happened again.
When we moved from the South to the great Northwest, T-Bug came with us. She adjusted quickly. There was one big difference – she became an inside dog. That was probably more of an adjustment for me. We soon had our routines in place – that is until she disappeared. We went through the neighborhood and posted a photo and plea on social media.
Six weeks from the time she left, Puppa got a phone call from our local dog care center. T-Bug had shown up at the neighbor’s house just that morning. Sure enough, when he stopped to inquire, a black haggard thirteen-year-old dog responded to her master’s voice and crawled out from her resting place. She sat in front of him and looked up at him with those warm brown eyes. He looked down at her, petted her and asked, “T-Bug, where have you been?” She didn’t answer but when he opened the door to the truck, she hopped right in.
All we can figure is that she came looking for us, got lost, and was making her way back home. Six weeks wandering across the prairie took its toll on her. She lost nine pounds and had an infection. It took a few days, but her restlessness and uncertainty soon began to fade. Her strength is returning but the evening wails of the coyotes and thundering storms still frighten her. I guess we’ll never know what she experienced those six weeks. Though she’s not talking, when I see her resting peacefully in her bed, I simply dismiss my fears and let sleeping dogs lie.
