Zoe's Gone. And Back.

Jib here.

Zoe dug open the fence. She pushed a board. She pulled a board. She chewed. She wiggled. She shoved. And then she escaped.

She told me not to tell.

I didn't. I didn't tell.

But Mom went to feed her and couldn't find her. Anywhere. So Mom went to find her.

Zoe said she went far away. She went through three holes in three fences and an open gate. And she didn't let the last people catch her. They saw Mom looking for her and called to Mom. They couldn't catch Zoe to read Mom's phone number on her tags. So Mom went to find her and heard the neighbors call.

Mom found her. And Mom finally caught her. After a chase. Mom dragged her back down the street to my house. Zoe was bouncing. Mom was limping and bleeding. She smelled not happy.

Zoe smelled not happy, too. She was hungry and thirsty and not happy to be caught.
But she was happy to find her supper when Mom brought her home. And put her in jail.

I wasn't happy Zoe was home.

I spent all the time it took Mom to find Zoe barking. I was barking at Zoe's veal necks and chicken thighs. They were in her dog box. They were just...out...of...reach. My reach. I dug. I barked. But I couldn't get a second supper.

Mom said she could hear me barking in frustration all the way down the street. Where she found Zoe.

Maybe Zoe will take me with her next time and I will find MY supper in jail, too. A second supper.

Just for me.