Our dog, Hoss, was hit by a car at 8:50am. I watched (and heard) it happen. I ran to him, but he took off running from the shock.
I jumped in the car and tried to find him, but wasn't able to. I tried to call Matt at work, but someone else answered his cell phone number and explained that Matt now had a new cell phone number but he didn't know what it was.
Then my phone died because we still don't have power and I haven't been able to regularly charge things.
Then I tried knocking on one neighbor's door to beseech him for help, but he wasn't home. I tried another, and she immediately wanted to help. She let me use her outlet to charge my phone, and she jumped in her car to scour the neighborhood.
I was finally able to get in touch with Matt. He said he would come home right away.
After a futile search through the neighborhood, I called all the animal hospitals and clinics in the area to ask them to call me if anyone brought in an injured bloodhound.
Matt continued to search by car, bike, and foot. We were convinced that he was hiding under someone's house (we live in a neighborhood of old bungalows, most of which are on raised, pier and beam foundations).
My friend Christina came to help, and she checked under every house she could. We also passed out 300 flyers to ask people to be on the lookout for him.
After Hoss had been missing for eight hours, we started to get desperate. Christina and I called a pet psychic, but her phone went straight to voicemail with a message about how she has a lot of back log since Hurricane Ike. We then drove to a local psychic who said she didn't do that sort of thing.
My mom posted an ad on craigslist, and I tried getting in touch with the SPCA, which was an incredibly bureaucratic and frustrating process. I was on hold for 20 minutes and eventually got connected with an answering machine.
I called all the animal hospitals and clinics one more time to make sure they still had my contact information.
At 6pm, my friend, Camella, and I were just sitting on the front porch feeling utterly and completely helpless. We debated about making bigger posters for the neighborhood. We crossed our fingers that people would start returning home after work, read the flyers, and check under their houses.
Then we got a call from one of the animal hospitals. The doctor told me not to get excited. He said one of his nurses had seen a bloodhound running around outside. He directed me to the particular intersection where the dog had been spotted.
Camella and I jumped in the car and sped away, only fastening our seat belts when we had reached the end of the street. We drove a mile to the spot, and Camella spotted Hoss first. I rolled down the window and said his name, afraid that he would keep running. I then opened the front door to get out, and he jumped on my lap, licking us both up and down.
It's miraculous, really. He was hit by a car but sustained no major injuries. He basically went on a 9-hour adventure through town, crossing several major intersections, and trotting along for many miles. He is limping a little and he has some scrapes, but we are so, so lucky.
The day also reminded me that I am so, so lucky to have married a wonderful, wonderful individual.
Matt and I dated for three years before we got married, and I have to confess that I broke up with him three times during that period (more toward the beginning of our relationship).
I never knew my real father--he didn't want to have anything to do with me or my pregnant mom--so I have abandonment issues. My dating history basically goes like this: if a guy is emotionally unavailable and isn't all that into me, I want him like nobody's business. If a guy is kind, emotionally available, and into me, I'm not the least bit attracted.
Matt was different. He was kind and emotionally available and within a few days of meeting him, I called two separate friends in different states and said, "I think I found the guy I want to marry." I was so inspired by his kindness and generosity. I wanted to live up to the high bar he set.
But once we started dating, I fell back into my old habits. I wanted to push him away because I had difficulty letting someone love me (hence the three break-ups). Once I worked through my issues and we decided to get married, I never had second thoughts (which surprised my indecisive self!).
Yesterday was yet another reminder that I am so, so lucky to have married a generous, compassionate, humorous, persevering soul. Matt was so responsive, so supportive, and so hard-working yesterday. He scoured the neighborhood, looked under houses, introduced himself to the neighbors, and just didn't stop. Even when Camella and I were defeated and just resting on our front porch and Christina had taken off to get a bite to eat, Matt was still out there.
He is such a good father for our canine son.
I am so lucky to be married to him.
P.S. Dear Readers, thank you so much for your supportive comments yesterday. I really, really appreciated all your well-wishes and your prayers. Please let me know when you need me to return the favor!