Gidget's Night Out

On Saturday night, I had a dream that someone drunk and violent crashed his car into Tiffany's car, which was parked on the steep hill in front of her house (?), and was where her dogs lived (??). Then the guy started pulling all of the dogs out of their car/home and putting them into HIS car, stealing them! And everyone was freaking out and totally scared of the guy, but I bravely ran up and grabbed Gidget by the collar (because Gidget was there? dreams are weird) and said, "This is MY dog, not Tiff's! You can't take her!" and the mean man didn't stop me as I pulled Gidget away.

I woke up Sunday, remembered the dream, and started questioning what it meant about my relationship with Gidget. As many of you know, I'm not that into dogs. The last year and a half have been hard on me. I've gone from, "No, I still hate dogs," to "Gidget's a good dog, considering she's a dog," to "I love Gidget and all, but I still don't really like having a dog." Sunday morning I realized that I did like having a dog, even if I'm never going to be the kind of "dog person" who loves being licked and sleeps with their dogs. Maybe I was turning a corner with her after all.

Then Sunday night, she ran away.

Chip and I were closing up shop a little after 10:00. Apparently Gidget was more freaked out by the neighborhood fireworks than her attitude had let on. Chip let her outside to pee, turned his head for a second, and she was off. He ran after her, but she was not responding. I put on flip flops with my PJs and followed him outside. A quick tour of our immediate neighborhood didn't turn anything up. "I guess I'll get in the car," Chip said. "I guess I'll get a bra," I replied.

For the next two hours, Chip drove around the neighborhood, retracing all of our regular walking and jogging routes and making larger and larger circles around the center point of our house. Meanwhile, I walked our block over and over, calling for Gidget, going up and down driveways, and talking to any number of neighbors who were up enjoying the holiday weekend. No Gidget.

Around 12:30 we collapsed, assuming that she would come home or that someone would find her and call the number on her collar. Then a couple of hours later, I woke up, panicking. "You've got to get back in the car!" I implored, my mothering instincts getting the better of me. We got up and looked out of every window in the house, then Chip gave up and grabbed his car keys. Before he left, I turned to look out the kitchen window- suddenly there she was, running across the street towards the house! Whew.

A few days later, and she's still totally freaked out. She has been hiding around the house, despite the absence of any firecracker noise. It takes a lot of effort to get her to go outside at night to use the bathroom (she's okay during the day) and her appetite has waned. I've asked her a million times where she went and what she did Sunday night, but she won't tell me. I'm sure in time she'll come around. And I guess I will too. She's my dog, and I love her, even if I still don't really want her to lick me.