Lights Will Guide You Home

"Fix You," Coldplay

Bailey got lost yesterday. It was awful-- Tim called my classroom phone at about 4:30 to tell me that A) Bailey had knocked the screen out of the window and escaped, and B) I had left the refrigerator ajar all day and, consequently, all of the food inside had gone bad. My friend Amanda was in my classroom with me, and we rushed to my apartment to survey the scene. I was a crying mess of confusion and hardly could make it home, stopping at the train tracks on my way to aimlessly search, terrified at what I could potentially find. When we got to the house, Tim was already looking up various information about local shelters, all of which were inconveniently closed yesterday. In a flurry of genius, Amanda had printed out a stack of "Lost Dog" posters from my classroom, so we set out to start posting. We eventually went back to school to print more (complete with bigger fonts and Bailey's color photo) and proceeded to paste posters in the greater Carlsbad area (or, perhaps more specifically, within about a half-mile radius of our apartment). We spoke with neighbors, two of whom had seen Bailey lounging on the grass earlier in the day, but he was nowhere to be found. Once it was completely dark, Amanda (who, ironically enough, adopted her first dog today) headed home, and Tim and I resorted to the waiting game.

I woke up in the middle of the night, at 12:30, to find Tim standing in the doorway and Bailey jumping onto the bed. Apparently (and thank God for Tim's auditory abilities), Bailey had showed up on the doorstep and had proceeded to bark until someone let him in. He was dirty and covered in burrs, but otherwise seemed totally fine. We were relieved to say the least, and I've spent a good portion of today wondering where he WENT for 12+ hours. Could he hear us desperately calling his name as we posted the signs? Was he ever in someone's house? How far away from home did he go? I can't help but relate Bailey's situation to a teenager getting home late (probably after curfew) after a night filled with (probably illegal) adventure and mayhem. Of course, now he's sleeping peacefully and doesn't have a clue that, just hours ago, he put us through hell and I was seriously questioning my ability to forgive myself had he not returned. He also doesn't have a clue that, come tomorrow, he's going into the vet for a full check-up. AND microchip insertion--(which, contrary to popular belief, is not akin to a car's GPS tracking device system).