A Mother of a Day - Part IV

Having just retrieved my six year-old from the side of our road -- and not from the median of the busy three-lane street a block and a half away -- I continued on, looking for the dogs and my 10 year-old twins.

Another block or so down, I saw Mad Dog, jogging back toward the house. I pulled up and called out the window for her to jump in.

"We got 'em!" she panted. "I'm going for the leashes."

"Forget the leashes," I yelled. "Just get in!"

I scooped her up and eyed, just around the corner, my neighbor holding Libby. He'd been outside working in his lawn when he saw my dogs take off and my panic-stricken kids tear after them in hot pursuit. He'd sprung into action and managed to catch our golden doodle several blocks from our homes.

Thankfully, the dogs had taken a hard left down a side street and hadn't continued on into the busy road.

I swerved to where they stood on the roadside, jumped out, and apologetically grabbed Libby's collar and hoisted her into my van.

I thanked him profusely.

He pointed down the road and told me The Deuce had managed to pin Bandit, our Pomeranian-poodle mix a block or so farther down. I could hear her shouting.

"Ow! Bandit! You dumb dog!"

I nodded, hopped back into my van and flew down the road toward The Deuce. (My neighbor, a smart man, had opted to walk back home.)

I spotted The Duce, kneeling in someone's yard and holding Bandit by the harness. The little dog was biting at her arms.

"Bandit," she yelled, "Quit it!"

For the fourth time, I jumped out and scooped up a dog and one of my kids. Bandit squirmed in my arms, clearly pissed off that she'd been caught. She flailed about awkwardly, like a baby pig trying to wiggle free.

It was amazing that The Deuce was able to catch her. In our home, Bandit is a sweet, docile lap dog. Outside, she's a wild beast, who if given the chance will take off and leave our asses behind -- without so much as looking back. Catching her when she's off-leash is damn-near impossible.

It's times like those when I think our little dog views herself less as a beloved family pet and more as a prisoner, desperate for freedom. As I walked back to the van, I looked in her eyes and could almost read her mind:

"Attica! Attica!"

Out of breath, The Deuce and I climbed in the van and headed home. Once in the driveway, I shifted into park and sunk back into my seat.

Crowbar was still crying. Both dogs were barking. The twins were arguing over who left the door open. The baby, on the other hand, was cooing and buzzing slobbery raspberries with glee. She'd enjoyed the adventure.

I snuck a peek of myself in my rear view mirror and took note of several fresh, new gray hairs adorning my temples. I'd earned them during those last heart-stopping minutes.

Having safely gathered my kids and pets safely was nothing short of a Mother's Day miracle.

Suddenly aware of the time, I looked at the clock on the radio. It was 4 o'clock.

My in-laws would be here in an hour.

To be continued...