The Prodigal Dog

I had to have a talk with Sofi today, who ran away.  Luckily, the receptionist at the nearby animal hospital saw our chubby beagle non-chalantly meandering past their office and he pulled her inside and gave us a call.  Our guess is she was looking for Papa Johns, as we often take her with us when we go to pick up a pizza ordered. Her hysterical Mama was never more over-joyed to see her first baby safe and not in the dog pound or worse yet - dead on the side of the road. (The animal hospital is at an intersection of two of the busiest roads in our city.) After I loved her up and gave her lots of kisses and hugs, she was lectured on how good she at it at our house and how she should never, never, never, ever, run away again.  Seriously, Sofi.  You have your own room.  You have a big backyard.  You have a toddler that feeds you tasty morsels every day.  You are lucky to be alive. 

I think she was sorry.

Lance had to have a talk with Elisabeth today, who opened the front door to help Sofi escape. He warned her if she let Sofi out the front door that we may never see Sofi again.  She cried.  And then she went with Lance to help find our dog in her new Cindi-rella dress she got from her WV family.  She kept hollering "Sofi" in her scratchy, two-year old voice, in hopes Sofi would come back. 

I know she was sorry.  She told her Papa so.

Oh, the adventures we have.  I wonder how our next baby will fit into the mix.