Dave was leaving for the driving range Saturday afternoon, clubs in hand, when Roxy snuck out through the front door. I heard something along the lines of "Roxy!! Roxy!! Oh, shit." We both wandered up and down the street calling her name...but Beagles aren't exactly known for their reliable recalls. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach...how were we ever going to find her? She could be anywhere and this isn't suburban Canada anymore...one of the country's three main roads is at the end of our street and there's dense foliage all around...she could be anywhere. The heavily-tattooed guy at the end of the street came out of his house, apparently having heard me calling her name and whistling. He asked if I'd lost a dog and I explained the situation. He said he was an animal warden and would put in a call to his office to let them know she was missing. Unfortunately, I then had to explain why the Roxy is not licensed (something we haven't gotten round to yet...). While I was thanking him after he'd made the call, Dave came down the street, runaway Beagle in arms. Apparently he'd found her two houses down from our house, standing at their door waiting to be let in. Relief. Crazy Beagle. Crazy husband.
(I've been delinquent with photos this week, so this is actually yesterday's photo. Hope to post another for today later on.)
Deets: f/2.8, 1/50, ISO1600
Oh, that Roxy! Glad she was found quickly!
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