Every now and then, the winds of fate blow in a curious pattern, sweeping up whatever is in their path and configuring it into a perfect storm of disaster. My perfect storm hit a few months back and included a baby, a runaway dog, and a bowl of cat food. The mayhem that resulted put what I profess to believe to the test.
My daughter and her husband had left my two-month-old granddaughter in my care while they made a necessary out-of-town trip, and I was over the moon about getting to keep this little cupcake for a few days. I dropped her parents at the airport, and with my precious cargo aboard, carefully wended my way home through the nightmare of Atlanta’s rush hour traffic. When at last I pulled into my driveway, safe and sound with a sleeping baby, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I thought I was playing it smart by parking in the wide open space of the driveway instead of in the confined space of the garage where it would have been a tight squeeze to remove the car seat and take it into the house through the connecting door. So, I gently lifted the car seat to avoid disturbing the baby and headed to my front door instead. That’s when the first unexpected gust of wind hit me in the face.
I had barely cracked the door open when my dog Harper, unhinged by my unusual entrance through the front door, bolted straight at me, nearly sending me (and the baby) crashing down on the sidewalk. Fortunately, I regained my balance before falling, but Harper, smelling freedom, was already a streak of brown, taking off down the hill. I bellowed after him, to no avail.
After I carried the car seat inside and set it safely down on the floor, I went back outside and ran around our cul-de-sac, yelling for Harper. Nothing. Harper has many good qualities, but coming when called is not one of them. Back inside the house, I grabbed my phone to text my husband at work. I wanted him to come home immediately and mount a search party.
As I reached for my phone, I suddenly remembered that in ten+ years of marriage, my husband had only forgotten to take his cell phone to work with him one time, today. With texting off the table, I punched in his office number instead. My husband is almost never at his desk, but I hoped this time would be an exception. Worse than no answer, I got a recording, informing me I had called a number that was not in service. Three more attempts with the same result proved I hadn’t called the wrong number, but my calls would not go through. I felt the beginnings of a full-blown panic attack coming on. Every minute that passed likely took Harper farther away from home and, I feared, closer to the highway in front of our neighborhood.
As a last resort, I decided to email my husband, even though I knew without his phone on him, he’d likely not check his email until he was back at his computer at the end of the day. But with no carrier pigeons available, I was out of aces. I hit “send” and hoped the message would reach my husband in time. The email bounced right back to me with an error message that said his mailbox did not exist. What in the world was going on? I was sure any minute Rod Serling’s voice would announce that I’d entered The Twilight Zone.
I took a deep breath and tried to regain my composure because I knew the baby had to be my top priority. As much as I love my Harper boy, there was no way I could leave the baby to go after him. “Well,” I said aloud, “I’m always spouting off about the power of hope. I have no choice but to hold onto the hope that Harper will somehow be guided home safely.”
By this time, the baby had begun to stir, so I lifted her out of the car seat and laid her on my bed to change her diaper. As soon as I got her diaper off, my doorbell rang. I answered the door, holding a half-naked baby, to find the gray-haired Korean man from a few doors down, pointing toward his house and trying to explain something to me in a mix of halting English and Korean. I only know how to say “hi” in Korean, so after “Annyeong” I was pretty lost, but I thought I heard him say “dog.”
Just then his teenaged grandson came running up and explained that Harper was in his grandfather’s yard. I was so relieved I started saying “thank you” in every language I knew, although Korean didn’t happen to be one of them. I grabbed Harper’s leash and a Milk Bone and handed them to the grandson.
“He’ll come right to you if he sees a treat,” I explained. “If you could put his leash on and bring him home, I would be so grateful. I’m here alone and can’t leave the baby.” (And you can’t seem to dress her completely either, lady, they probably thought to themselves.)
The grandson relayed the plan to his grandfather and they headed back toward their house. I finally got the baby diapered—grateful that she hadn’t leaked anywhere—and was marveling at how my hope had been rewarded. Somewhere in the midst of my marveling, I realized it was taking a very long time for my neighbors to return with Harper.
I wrapped a blanket around the baby and went outside to take a quick look down the street—just in time to see Harper dashing down the cross street, followed by the grandson waving a leash and a Milk Bone in the air…and the grandfather, bringing up the rear, yelling something in Korean. Apparently, Harper had managed to elude their grasp.
I Iost sight of the dog chasers, so I took the baby back inside the warm house, fed her a bottle and held onto my hope for Harper’s safe return. About ten minutes later, grandfather and grandson again knocked at my door, this time with the wayward Harper in tow. They’d found him at the end of the street in a neighbor’s open garage, chowing down on a bowl of cat food. Harper may love to run like the wind, but not as much as he loves to eat. And why settle for one crummy Milk Bone when the smell of tuna is in the air?
The grandson told me that after he’d attached the leash, Harper insisted on finishing the entire bowl of free food before allowing himself to be led out of the garage. The instant I opened my door, Harper charged into the house as wildly as he’d charged out of it, except now he was covered in wet mud which he generously spread all over the carpets I’d spent $150 to have cleaned exactly one week before.
All three of us now exhausted—and at least two of us with full bellies—we collapsed, me in the rocker with babe in arms and Harper on the floor at my feet. The winds were calm; the storm had passed. The rhythmic breathing of contented infant and canine slumber was the only sound. I snuggled the baby close to me, rubbed Harper’s head with my foot and shot a grateful glance heavenward.
Emily Dickinson wrote that hope is the thing with feathers, but my perfect storm taught me that hope rewarded is the thing covered in muddy brown fur. And, P.S., sometimes hope waves a Milk Bone and speaks Korean.
I love this, but … now I’m worried about Jorge! Did his office fall into a sink hole? Hope all is well.
Wasn’t that nutty??? Their entire communications system went wacko on the very, and only, day that he’d left his cell phone at home and that Harper went rogue! What a day that was, Kate!
Wow. Perfect storm, indeed! so glad it all ended well.
Me too! 🙂
Lee, Talk about fate! It just goes to show how we are offered challenges in life as perfectly as we need. Seems like you passed with flying mud (colors)! Just trying on a bit of Lee humor. Did you have to get the carpet re-cleaned? Sounds like you did what was best in a storm, smell the roses with that precious little one.
Flying mud is right! And he couldn’t contain it to just one room–he had to run in all the bedrooms and roll around. I was so mad–had to call Zerorez to come again and there’s no discount for having a nutty dog! Thanks for stopping by, Susan!
I hate when my dog gets loose. You know they’re not following the sidewalks but you feel strange walking through your neighbors yards. Somehow it ends with a chuckle, but only after you want to strangle them. Our old dog, (and garbage picker), Benson came home with an entire turkey carcass in his mouth after thanksgiving. He kept his head down hoping we wouldn’t notice. HA!
A turkey carcass??? That’s hilarious, especially that he though he was being so discreet with it! Years ago, I was trying to be super domestic and make chicken broth from the chicken carcass and somehow my springer spaniel Ruckus got it out of the pot on the stove without pulling the pot of boiling water down on herself and ate the entire thing while I was upstairs! She’s the same one that got into the Easter basket and had plastic grass coming out the back end the next day! They are so funny.
What a scary adventure Harper had at your expense! But only you could turn this near disaster into such a funny story, even the dirty carpet part. Apparently Jorge was not meant to participate in this Harper saga considering all the communication roadblocks the universe set into place. You handled it beautifully and I love the ending with the Emily Dickinson reference.
Now, can I call you to come shampoo the carpets next time Senor Harper rolls in mud, like tomorrow? It was so bizarre, Molly–I felt like I was completely cut off from the world. Jorge came home with a casual, “Hey, how was your day?” Seriously, that’s all you have to say for yourself?! He had no idea he’d been unreachable.
Hi Lee, it always happens when you are babysitting doesn’t it? You are so concerned about looking after the baby and things all start to happen around you. I think you did well, at least you didn’t leave the baby on the bed while you answered the door, plus you were very agile not to fall when Harper came to the door. You might be in for the Grandmother Olympics, juggling a baby and a dog!
Ha, Sue, I think I could qualify for the Grandmother Rocking Chair Olympics only! I still find it hard to believe that EVERYTHING happened at once on the same day! And even more amazed–and grateful–that it all worked out well in the end. Thanks for stopping by!
This reminds me of the time I was dog sitting, and the dog got scared by lightening and took off!! It’s such a horrible feeling!!
Glad it all worked out…
Oh, wow, it must have been really scary when it was someone else’s dog! I was freaking out, but there was nothing I could do. Thank goodness Harper fell for the cat food trap!
I’m glad the dog is back…and that it was the communication system rather than your husband that sunk into that hole.
I’m glad on both counts, too. I couldn’t have planned all those things to happen at once if I had tried! What a day!
You should really take your show on the road! Your perspective on everyday life is so positive and hilarious! Keep it up! You’re the best.
Start booking my gigs, girl! I KNOW how good you are at doing that! I miss our Chicago days–and my youthfulness!
What dirty carpet? Your pup was safe and you had your precious baby in your arms. Mud? What mud?
I know! I had the most important elements. But, geez, Harper could have at least offered to trade a few Milk Bones to pay the carpet guys again.
All’s well that end’s well. But did you start to wonder if Jorge was a figment of your imagination?!
I was a little nervous. I’ve had one disappear without a trace before, you know!
I enjoyed this one SO much! I remember dog sitting for my friend and their dog took off. I freaked out and went crazy running all over their street.I didnt have a baby with me though! Glad all ended well!!!