Our backyard is a meeting place for the neighborhood kids. We have a huge weeping willow tree that provides cool, quiet shelter – and usually Popsicles. On Sunday, Keith was cooking out on the grill, kids were running everywhere and I was sitting on the patio reading a book when I realized I hadn’t seen Wilbur. His breed is pug, but he identifies more with a pampered French poodle. Our gate was wide open and while I didn’t think he would wander off, he might investigate our neighbors or follow the kids. In a panic, we shut off all burners and launched a search team. Nicholas went one way, Keith hopped on his bike, Lexi circled the block and I took off calling “Willllburrr”. He isn’t one of much energy, so I didn’t think he would go more than a block, even if he eagerly followed someone – he poops out rather quickly.
I passed a group of neighborhood kids, one of which most likely left out gate open – and they continued playing softball while calling out “Sorry about that”. It ticked me off a little, but I rounded the block and then got in the car. Lexi and I made wider and wider circles calling “Willllburrrr”. We were going very slow, hoping Wilbur would hear us and come
waddling loping to the car. Suddenly, we hear an echo to our “Willllburrrr” “Willllburrrr”. Hoping someone had spotted him, we angled back toward the house. One by one, we passed the neighborhood kids on their bikes and afoot – hunting and calling out for our lost piglet boy. I was touched. They not only looked, they informed walkers, lawn waterers, and porch sitters. It brought to mind an ironic thought – all the kids have been warned what to do when approached by a stranger with “Can you help me find my little dog?” – Yikes!
As Lexi and I circled the blocks, neighbors we’ve never seen called out “We’re keeping a lookout for Wilbur!”. 6-8 streets from our house! I was touched – again.
It was getting dark and knowing Wilbur, he had found a comfy spot and probably some pate’ or cat food and settled in for the evening. I was heading home, slowly, with my hazard lights blinking. A car came behind me and I motioned for it to pass me. Nope. So I pulled over and she drove beside me “Are you looking for a little dog”. Yesss!!! Somehow Wilbur had gotten inside her 6′ wooden fence and had made himself at home. Thank you, thank you, thank you! She lives 1 block, a straight shot south of our house.
So Wilbur is home, he has a special new tag with our new name/address/phone number ordered to adorn his ugly collar. I’m sure he would prefer rhinestones, but feeding him an occasional jelly bean is as far as I’ll go to indulge him.
Here is our Wilbur on a typical morning: