The Runaways

For the last few weeks we have been engaged in the usual spring ritual of raking, stick picking and sawing up branches around the place. Between the ice storm last November, winter blizzards and windy days we have probably the most tree debris to clean up since we moved out here. One of the first times we walked around the acreage we counted 130 trees, most of them graceful, beautiful but frail white willows. Not the ideal tree for a windy environment. During Easter weekend we had both kids and their families out to celebrate, and our daughter brought her little Jackshund, Colt, not yet a year old. Our oldest dog, Marley, at 13 years old, has lost most of her will to play so was not very interested. Steve, our other dog, at 10 still has a little gas in the tank and so he and Colt went around the acreage together. After some time we realized we had not seen the two for awhile, and called and called for them. They had disappeared. Several of us got into two separate cars and went in opposite directions looking for them. During a pause in the search a van drove up and out hopped Steve. The driver said he found him in the grassy median of four lane Highway 20 looking scared and confused. When he opened the side door Steve jumped right in. He drove around asking neighbors if they knew the dog and someone said he belonged to us. We asked about Colt but he said only Steve was in the median. Now we had an idea what area to search and we did so, scanning the empty farm fields, driving Hwy 20, looking in culverts and ditches. No sign of him. We agreed that the young and inexperienced Colt was the one to wander off the acreage, with Steve following, because neither of our dogs will leave without one of us. For a few days after Steve stayed by our sides, lost his appetite and was spooked and skittish. There is still no sign of poor little Colt.