Maybe she was bored. Or wanted to get to know the new neighborhood.
Maybe, disoriented, she was trying to find her way back to the shelter and a life she knew.
Most probably she was just terrified.
Whatever the reason, last Thursday she bolted out the front door, took a left at the end of the driveway and disappeared for good into a steamy August morning.
We searched on foot, on bikes, in the car. Despondent, I called out to her in unfamiliar places, my voice still unknown to her, using a name she hadn't yet learned.
It was hopeless.
We put up signs. We waited. I walked the neighborhood for the tenth time. Shelter volunteers that had grown to love her in her time with them came out to help us look for her. Nothing.
Until the phone rang that evening and someone had rescued her, yet again. It was incomprehensible to me that she'd been found; I thought I would never see her again.
How she spent that day, we'll never know... how she navigated two very, very busy roads without being hit to end up 3 miles away... how a Good Samaritan convinced her to stop in her running long enough to be caught...
I am so thankful for this happy ending and for this dog I barely know and already can't help but love...