The Day We Lost Sox

We lost Sox (Our 'old lady' border collie X) the other day.

She just slipped away without anyone noticing!

It was a sad, sad day ... especially when someone brought the old girl back.

That's right!  She ain't 'lost' in that sense of the word ... she only went missing.

Let me explain.

We'd been on our usual trip to the park; Sym=ball chasing, Clover=at my heels, Sox=wanting to go home ASAP.

On crossing the rugby field in Hailey Park, we bumped  into (I think she made a bee-line for us really) Penny, a Four Paws fosterer and 'activist'.  I had a home-check to carry out that evening for the adoption of a puppy called Jessica, so the chat with Penny was brief, just long enough to give her dogs a few pieces of cheese.

As we went our separate ways, Sox was already half way across the field in her haste to get back to the car and go home.  Her eyesight and hearing are not the best, so she usually has to stop just to make sure we are still close by.  On this occasion she chose to walk back towards us and, as we were passing the small wooded enclave that Sym uses (unsuccessfully) to hone his squirrel hunting skills, she suddenly broke into a doggy-gallop.

Sym charged into the woods, as he always does, and Sox for the first time in the six years we've had her, charged in after him.  There was a barking and a thrashing about in the undergrowth that only Sym could make whilst 'hunting' squirrels and then, out he came, ready for some more ball action.

I waited ... I called ... I whistled.

Sox did not come out of the woods.  I ventured in after her, taking care that Clover (she's scared of the woods) did not bolt.

Sox was nowhere to be seen so, knowing that she has a homing instinct for where the car is parked, I assumed she'd run in that direction while I was searching for her in the woods.

I checked ... I called ... I whistled.

Dammit!  No Sox.  No one had seen a black and white dog of any description.

I walked back over the fields in the direction we had just come from, asking the few folks that I met if they'd seen her.  The answer was always "No".

Then, from the very far corner of the field ... some two hundred or more yards away ...I thought someone called me.

I looked ... I watched  ... I swore.

There in the furthest corner of the field was Penny ... but she had three dogs with her, not her usual two.

Now I'm getting on a bit and my eyesight, spectacle enhanced though it is, is somewhat lacking in the long-range identification department. So I walked Sym (who didn't mind) and Clover (who thought it was feeding time and was whining) back over the field.

Yes, Penny was bringing Sox back.  She'd bumped into some four hundred yards away looking very agitated and confused (Sox, not Penny) and thought it best to slip on a lead and walk her back in my direction.

I thanked Penny, fussed Sox and then we went home.

Sox gave me the "how could you have left me like that" look, but I think I was forgiven after she received extra cheese to help her recover from her ordeal.

I think she will be more careful in future.