Last night I tied the dog out about 8:00. When I went out at 8:15 he and the rope were gone. The usual routine. Check the road, and then wander around with a flash light, calling his name. (Why the H— doesn’t he ever pull these stunts during the day, when I can find him?)
I heard him bark once, which gave me an idea where he was – back and to the left. Didn’t find him in the neighbor’s yard, so decided to see if he had wandered into the next yard up. Our neighbor has not mowed his back yard all summer, so I was trekking knee-deep in my robe and a pair of snow boots – I know; always the fashion plate! – tripping over vines and stepping into pot holes. Finally found the little bugger, snagged on a rosebush, and the line stretched as far as he could go. I had to follow it under bushes and around trees to unhook him, and then the fool wanted to explore some more.
I am too old for this nonsense.
thisendoftheswamp 
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