There's no joy in Hillmomba. Farmer H and I are moping around, looking for any sign of our dear lost Lucky. Any little thing gives us slim hope. Like Monday night, when Jack made three trips around the porch. He usually comes up around 8:00, to get a drink from the water bowl. He sets off the motion lights, and I see his rumpus and tail as he trots past the kitchen windows. Then he sets the lights off in reverse order as he goes back towards the garage, where he likes to sleep in a hole in the gravel under SilverRedO.
Monday night, Jack went for his drink. But didn't come back. A minute later, here he came from the original direction, setting off the lights that had gone dim. He made another round of the porch after that. It's like he was looking for something. Chasing after it. Yet nothing else came by the lights or windows. I thought maybe he could have caught a scent of Lucky.
Farmer H said that Old Buddy told him on Tuesday morning that he'd seen a Facebook post by somebody who found a white dog by the bowling alley. I looked all over for it, and couldn't find it. Then that evening, Farmer H said it turned out to be a fluffy poodle-cross dog.
I've been wracking my brain, trying to make sense of the disappearance. With Pupsie, we knew she was kind of crazy, and could have gotten into something that could have led to her demise. Nobody could have taken Pupsie, because she wouldn't even let US get near her for capture, after a whole year of living here.
On one of the weekend days, while lying down for my nap before town, I heard Jack and Lucky barking a bit. Not a frenzy like a deliveryman. Just like barking at each other. THEN I thought I heard a man talking. I was so certain I heard a voice that I got up from bed, and went to peep through the miniblinds at that end of the house. I couldn't see anybody. Nor could I see Lucky or Jack, because of the way the yard drops away below the porch. I wondered if maybe Farmer H had somebody over at the BARn field, like he occasionally gives people permission for junking or hunting or burning scrap. I even asked him later, but he said no. It wasn't important at the time, because Lucky was still here until his Monday disappearance.
We can't imagine Lucky getting all the way to town on his own. There's the big river to cross. It was up from the storms on Saturday. I suppose Lucky could have gone across the bridge on the county lettered highway. But there's a lot of traffic on it. Different than Pupsie, Lucky would have gotten in a car with somebody. He's a friendly dog, and offers his paw to shake.
Tuesday afternoon, before my shower, I heard Jack barking in the front yard. Of course I went to look out. Jack was facing the neighbor's property, like when Copper Jack used to come through the fence into our yard. I didn't see anything over there. Jack didn't run after it like a varmint. Just stood still in our yard, barking.
As I left for town, I heard Jack barking again, from the driveway. He came running to greet me. I heard something down in the woods by the garage. Like where Jack and Pupsie and Copper Jack used to chase the squirrels when I came up the driveway. The dogs have a little trail into the woods. I heard the leaves crackling, but saw nothing.
Farmer H has apparently been driving around our gravel roads looking for Lucky. He hasn't said as much, but he brought up the fact that the people behind us, over the creek, have poured concrete to make a nice porch on former neighbors Nick and Bev's old house. It's not on the main road. No way Farmer H would know that unless he turned off, driving around.
As Farmer H says, we haven't seen a body. So that's a good thing. Lucky hasn't been run over out here. I can only hope that wherever he went, somebody is feeding him. Maybe keeping him inside. The pound originally said it seemed like he was housebroken. And that his nails were trimmed.
Farmer H hopes Lucky may come back. I hope so too, but I think it would have happened by now, which is Wednesday at noon, as I'm typing.
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