The Case of the Disappearing Dog
5:08 AM
As we're nearing our final days here at Moulin Bregeon, Winry has gotten pretty comfortable here. Too comfortable.
She won everyone over quickly with her cute little puppy eyes and exuberant personality and once she had she started using it to her advantage. We wouldn't see her for hours only to find out she'd been "helping" Nora in the kitchen (staring her down until she got scraps) or during dinner we caught Pascal feeding her premium bits of chicken from his plate. One night she got so brave as to jump up onto Andreas' lap and steal a chicken one right off his plate. She didnt know what to do with the bone when she got it and we easily took it from her, but her boldness was becoming a problem.
So we banned kitchen scraps. After she learned that nobody was allowed to feed her anymore, Winry took matters into her own hands. First she started stealing scraps out of the compost bin. Barely noticable items like vegetable scraps or eggshells. But that soon gave away to chicken bones and the mad chase to catch her before she swallowed them. If the lid to the bin was even slightly off she found devised a way to push it down and then off completely. In the downtime between meals she found the compost pile outside and starting picking through it there.
It all seemed to come to a head Sunday. Zach and I had moved over to the "green room" which was a whole separate two story building with our room at the top and an office below. I was taking a nap when I awoke to Jonathon yelling "Oh no! Oh NO!" I look bewildered over to Zach who was reading next to me and he jumped up to run downstairs. I was still groggy with sleep when Zach returned with Winry, whose crime was smeared all over her face. The office downstairs was being prepared for a small cocktail party for everyone at the mill and some of Jonathon friends nearby. The table had been set with a decadent spread and seeing the holy grail before her, Winry jumped onto the table and was starting on the plate when she completely blew her cover by knocking the dish over. It was funny when she had snagged a few deviled eggs off the table during our friend Kristen's Christmas party, but it's less funny when she's breaking dishes that are antiques and extremely rare.
As she sat on the bed licking her lips and looking triumphant, I looked at Zach.
"What are we going to do?"
Neither of us had a good answer. Feeling frustrated and a bit melancholy already, I figured she just needed to get out for a walk. We had been working at the mill so there weren't the usual two mile runs to the village to wear her out. So I laced up my boots and threw on a sweater as night was starting to fall and carried her halfway down the driveway just in case she wanted to make a break for the buffet again. We started our way into the woods, a path we had now walked dozens of times. This forest is a bit different than others I've been in as all the trees were planted in rows and there are periodically long open trails through the brush dotted with deer stands. I stopped off at a particularly grassy trail and made my way to the deer stand, thinking I could sit and have some quiet and watch her adventure.
I made myself a little seat at the base of the stand trying to avoid the wet grass from the rainy day and as soon as Winry saw me sit down, she practically reared up to turn and run off. She bounded off in the tall grass and I was left to my thoughts as the woods around me prepared for night. Ten minutes passed and I realized I couldn't see or hear Winry. She likes to explore so Zach and I usually let her do her thing, but she usually stays near enough so we can see her or she simply comes back to check in periodically. I let ten more minutes pass just in case she would pop back in sight. Nothing. I stood and looked around to nothing but a quiet forest. I started calling and whistling for her, getting a little more desperate with each call. Still nothing.
As the minutes ticked on with still no sign of her, my mind race from one thought to the next. What if a fox got her? She yelped when a cat nicked her, I would have heard the struggle at least. What if she's caught in some bramble? Well, she is wearing that sweater. Oh god the police report... Yes, she's 16lbs, white and fluffy and was last seen wearing an American flag sweater.
I criss-crossed my way through that first section of woods, theorizing she wouldn't have gone in deeper. I combed through bramble and tall grass that soaked my boots. I jumped over ditches and even tried climbing a tree but realized with the thick spring leaves that it was useless (and the branches were too high). I eventually picked up a long, thick branch in an effort to protect myself against whatever got Winry and strained to look for red, white and/or blue while cursing my terrible eyesight. An hour passed and I had eventually realized I had to come to a descision. It's possible that Winry could have made it back to the mill, but if she didn't I had to go back in time to get Zach to help me search before it really got dark out. I was nervous to go back. If she wasn't there, it really meant trouble.
I started back towards the mill, first in a speed walk, then a run, and finally a dead sprint as I neared the buildings. I couldn't imagine what I would tell Zach. Just like earlier today, I wasn't watching her and she had gotten herself in trouble. I ran up the stone walkway and just as the panic settled, there she appeared in the doorway next to Martyn.
Happy, tail-wagging and eager to see me, she ran over and I dropped to my knees, crying as I held her in my arms. I cried and cried and she sat patiently, licking the tears off my face. Martin and Hannah ran out and sat down next to me, with Zach arriving close behind. He had been on the phone with his mom and had happened to look out the window as I was returning. I choked out my story of searching for her for over an hour only for Martin to tell me that she had been back at the mill almost the whole time. When she saw me sit down in the forest she must have turned and ran straight back to the party.
I couldn't be angry, the relief that she hadn't been eaten by a fox was overwhelming. At dinner, everyone told lost dog stories of their own. Of the panic, of the fear, and then the triumph when they were found. At the end of dinner, Pascal reminded me that Winry had made it home safely all by herself. I might be afraid for her to get lost, he explained, but she isn't afraid to be lost. She's an adventurer, but she knows how to make it back to home to the people who love her.
That night, when we finally got into bed, she fell asleep in my arms and I was thankful again she was safe. It's possible too that as she fell asleep she realized the fear and anxiety she caused that night, because she's been on her best behavior ever since.
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