Updated: May 27
I'm trying so hard to be angry with this face today, but I'm finding it damn near impossible. As the day wears on, I'm sure my lack of sleep will catch up with me and I may find it a little easier to stoke a grudge with Oscar.
So here's the story of Oscar's adventure at 2:00 AM this morning.
I got up in the middle of the night, like old farts do, to go to the bathroom and maybe get a sip of water. As is typical, the "boys" (Oscar and Harry) got up with me and ran to the back door to go out for a tinkle of their own. The routine is that I let them out, take care of my bathroom visit, then meet them at the back door to let them in. Then we all climb back in bed, while John doesn't skip a single "Z."
However, when I returned to the back door, only Harry came back in. I stepped out onto the patio, activating all the motion-sensor light so that the neighbors could get a better view, only to discover that our back gate was wide open and Oscar was nowhere to be seen. This created the need for me to run into the alley behind our house, activating the motion sensors on all the neighborhood, while screaming Oscar's name and darting back and forth through my neighbors' driveways - still in just my skivvies.
He was gone. Nowhere in sight.
So I ran back in the house and woke John up with the news that Oscar had absconded. Harry stressed the stressful situation and ran for sanctuary under the bed. We both grabbed the nearest articles of clothing we could find and ran out the door... screaming and whistling for Oscar for the next 45 minutes throughout the neighborhood in the middle of the night.
The thought that kept running through my mind was, "How am I going to explain to everyone that we lost the gay dog? They are going to think that gay are terrible parents!"
When searching on foot didn't work, we hopped in to the car and began trolling. After 45 minutes of shear panic, John spotted him trotting happily back in the direction of the house. We stopped the car, and as John was opening the door to give chase, Oscar hopped into his lap and began whipping John's face with a wagging tail.
I think I finally went back to sleep around 4:30, with Oscar and Harry snoring at the foot of the bed.
The best we can figure is that he had run to the stables near our house to smell the horse. You know, just your typical 2AM jaunt.
We've called him a few "choice" names since then, with the cleaner ones including "Oscar the outlaw" and "runaway bride." He's asleep nearby, catching up on the sleep he lost last night, and I'm am trying but failing to be angry with him.