Where do you go to, my lovely?

I must have aged by about 10 years at lunchtime. The dogs were helping me bring the shopping in from the car so when I’d got all the bags in the house I called them in from the front garden and pushed the door shut. It took a while to put the shopping away, having to remove interested heads from the bags, and put the frozen stuff into the freezer before it became toxic. Then I made a cup of coffee and had a stroll around the garden making a note of all the things that I should have been doing. Then it was one o’clock and time for the dogs’ biscuits, so I got the Bonios out of the cupboard and called the hounds. Only three turned up – no Clover. Assuming she was deeply asleep on a chair I gave the others their lunch and went to find her. And I couldn’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t in the house so I searched the garden. She wasn’t there either. This was when I realised what must have happened. When I shut the front door she must still have been outside. So I opened the door to let her in. She wasn’t there.

This was when I started to panic. Clover’s getting on a bit and has poor sight so she gets lost easily. I knew she wouldn’t have gone far, but in which direction should I look? There was no sign of her up or down the road as I ran past all the neighbours’ houses looking in their front gardens. No sign. So I ran back and into the village where we go for walks, in case she’d taken herself off. No sign. Getting distraught by now I ran back and up the road to the fields, calling her. Nothing. As I ran back yet again a neighbour drove home, said she’d put her dog in and help me look. She quickly came back out saying that Clover had been in to visit her semi-disabled husband (in the back door, pottered around their kitchen, out into the back garden for a sniff then wandered out again) who waited for me to go past with the others and pick her up. When I didn’t he made a note of which way she’d gone and tried to find my phone number.

So at least we knew she’d gone towards the fields instead of into the village. Off I ran again, calling her and feeling increasing desperate. What if someone had stopped their car and taken her? Although tattooed she wasn’t wearing her collar – I might never get her back. Then Di called me. Clover had emerged from another back garden and was pottering homewards. She called Clover’s name, who stopped still in surprise, not being able to see anyone in the bright sunshine, and as I ran towards her I couldn’t stop myself bursting into tears of relief. Three-quarters of an hour of hell, and she’d been about 100 yards away. No matter. My lovely old girl was safe.