Steve McQueen Ain't Got Nothing

My wife threw open the bedroom door on the verge of tears shouting, "Logan got out. I let her out and she didn't come back and the gate is open and she's not there - she got out. I don't know where she is but she's somewhere walking down the street. Logan Got Out!"

I didn't actually comprehend all of that, but I did understand "Logan got out." And knew it wasn't a good thing.

Logan, if you remember from previous posts, is our five year old Beagle. About a year ago, we took her to the vet for what we thought was a simple case of lethargy. She was also drinking more water than usual, but it was summer and considered somewhat normal. Still, we wanted to be sure. Blood tests confirmed that she has Cushing's Syndrome, whereby her body produces too much cortisone. A few weeks later, we're not sure exactly when, she developed a separate but somewhat-related case of Sudden Acquired Retinal Degeneration; she went completely blind. We're not sure when it happened because she hid it so well. She didn't run into walls and her eyes would "look" right at you as you spoke and would follow you as you walked around the room.

Logan, to her credit, doesn't think she's blind, I believe. She memorized where everything is in the new house within days. She only runs into things when she gets really excited (anytime strangers and food are involved). Other than that, she jumps on and off the couch, knows exactly where her pillows are, and likes to explore in the back yard. A little too much.

Well, last night, Melissa let Logan out to do her business one last time before they went to sleep. Somehow, the wind blew open the only gate that leads into and out of the back yard. Logan found the opening and made her own Great Escape. When Melissa went to get her, there was no Logan to be found. That's when the bedroom door flew open and the shouting ensued.

To be sure, I'm fairly good at handling crises. I'm not a reactionary and prefer to quickly assess facts and circumstances before proceeding. I was in a very deep slumber but quickly jumped out of bed and started running down the street calling for the dog. Thank God for pajamas or else I would've been telling another story. I didn't get panicked because we live in a quiet neighborhood so I knew cars wouldn't be an issue.

There she was, about 100 yards down the road, just taking a little midnight stroll. We got back to the house and everybody automatically went to sleep, except for me. I thought for sure that since I had been sleeping so well, it must've been at least 5 in the morning, maybe even 6. Not so; it was 1 am. Once I've been awakened from a good sleep, it takes a baseball bat across the noggin to get me to sleep again. So, I checked e-mail, read more about Bush's nominee to the Court, and retired to the couch to watch a classic episode of Bosom Buddies (The one where Kip finally asks out Sonny - "Sonny, Sonny, Sonny, Sonny, Sonny). Somewhere around 2:30, I finally fell asleep.

Only for more shouting - "Neil, it's 7:20. You've overslept!"