10 September 2014

Blog #4 | 12 Hours of Murphey's Law

I never knew that Murphy guy that created the "If anything can go wrong, it will" law, but if I ever come across him, I'll have to punch him square in the nose.

It all started Tuesday night: The wife and I had a great dinner with our friends, the Gregorys; the boy was all snug in his footie pajamas, sprawled out in my arms, snoring that little congested snore he has as I watched T.V.; a major rainstorm was en route, and there's nothing I like better than falling asleep to the pitter-patter of rain drumming against the siding while thunder rumbles in the distance like a freight train.

The only thing left to do was let our beloved dog, Juniper, outside to do the doo one last time before bed.
Yes, we're those pet owners; we dress our dog in our clothes. | Photo Courtesy Ashley Tobey

However, there's a catch. June is terrified of storms. Even the sound of train cars ramming into each other sends her into a panic; her whole body convulses, she curls into the fetal position, and she knocks down baby gates and rips shower curtains off their rings to get to a bathtub.

Since I had a sleeping infant weighing me down, my beloved let June out.

Fast forward one hour

"Is June in the bathtub?" I called Ashley from the kitchen.

"She must be," Ashley replied from the basement. "It's pouring outside."

Just then, a huge crack of thunder and a brilliant flash of lightning ripped the sky apart.

"She's probably having fits. I better go check on her," Ashley said on her way to the bathroom.

I heard her walking through the upstairs, down to the basement. Doors are creaking open and slamming shut all throughout the house.

Suddenly, I hear feet scrambling up the stairs as Ashley cries out, "I can't find her!"

With a sickening revelation, she remembered: "I never let her back inside..."

Fast forward one hour

Somehow I've squeezed 30 miles worth of driving out of the tiny Waverly neighborhood we live in. I snaked and re-snaked up and down the water-logged roads as the rain came driving down in sheets.

It didn't take long to realize the search was pretty futile. With the fogged-over windshield, my rain-splattered glasses, and the fact I was looking for a jet-black dog in the dark of a stormy night, I was pretty much hosed.
Photo Courtesy Nick Gerber Tumblr

Fast forward two hours

The combination of a full bladder and worry about my fuzzy first-born child sprawled out in a muck-filled ditch, dead from a terror-induced heart attack, woke me from my troubled slumber. Using the dresser to steady myself, I grope my way through the darkness to check the garage to see if she found her way home and was waiting at the door.

Groggy steps lead me closer to the doorway I know is there. It's impossible to tell if my eyes are even open at this point.


A sudden bolt of lightning flashes as something flies out of the darkness and smacks me straight in the nose.

"What the...?! Holy heck!"

"What?! What's the matter?" Ashley replies, jolting from sleep.

"I hit the...OW!...I ran into the...DANG IT!...I walked into the DOOR!"

Fast forward to the morning

Several phone calls to the city offices later, I was on my way out the door to school with little to no hope of ever seeing my little schmoozy ever again.

As I put my bags in the passenger door, I hear a car pull into our drive directly behind me. I turn around in time to see the County Sheriff put his cruiser in park and roll down his window.

Oh my gosh, I thought to myself. Did I hold up Ollie's and totally forget?!

"You missing a black dog?" the sheriff asked from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, did you find her?" I asked, secretly finishing that sentence with, ...in a ditch somewhere?

"Yep, she's in the back."

Sure enough, there's June: sitting in the back seat, tail wagging, dry as a bone, looking very pleased with herself.

"I found her about six blocks from here, sitting on someone's front porch."

* * * * * *

I tell you: you love them; you feed them; you teach them right from wrong. But, once they become teenagers, they make their own decisions, and sometimes, they come home in the back of cop cars. The best we can do is hope eventually, they will make the right choices.

1 comment:

  1. The best blog I've ever read. 1. Action 1. Dialogue 1. Senses