12/12/2016
Gather round, ladies and gentlemen, for I have a tale to tell. This is a story fraught with fear and turmoil, with loss and reunion, and a lot of late night yelling and very little sleep.
This is the story of how, just last night, we lost Luna the dog.
It had been a glorious day spent with Ruby's son, The Wild Child, down on the coast. We had spent the day without Luna as the receptionist at the campsite almost had an aneurysm when we asked if the place was pet friendly, so Luna and some of her buddies had a slumber party.
We had a nice easy pack up and, after a swim in the sea, an incredibly decadent lunch of shucked oysters (great word, isn't it? it basically means opened and ready to eat), and a bottle of wine, we were ready to have the bouncing ball of energy hanging about again.
That evening we were meeting up with Ruby's Auntie Pina Colada. She's 78 and badass as all hell. Her dog, Jonty, is this tiny yappy thing which she has, it seems, endless patience for. He's a small dog, but truly believes he's a big scary growling teeth machine. Hearing her talk to him in her chilled out old lady voice is perfect 'Now, Jonty, this is just enough. That's silly Jony, you stop that at once!' To which he responds by licking her face. Or the air right in front of her face, he's not fussy.
Ruby and Luna, Jonty and Auntie Pina Colada, and I were checking out the carols by candle light and they decide that fireworks are going to go off (The whole thing was hilarious. An an English chick I'm used to cold and miserable weather around this time of year, and often a bit of snow, which makes singing Jingle Bells totally normal. I sat on a picnic blanket at 8pm sporting some rather sunburnt looking shoulders singing about dashing through snow on a sleigh. Next thing I know Santa rocks up in full fluff, red coat, boots, everything. And it 28 degrees. Madness.).
Luna already sports a healthy fear of loud noises – we've had a fair few cuddles on the sofa when the storms kick in – so fireworks are multicoloured, exploding hell for her. A combination of terrible timing on the organisers part ('One song until the fire works guys! Now please welcome on to the stage BOOM! BANG! EXPLODE!') and none of us being prepared meant the moment of pure fear that Luna must have felt when that first fire work went off propelled her, at unbelievable speed, as far away from us as possible.
Through the sea of legs, over the 4 lane road and into the suburban jungle. She was gone. We were beside ourselves.
9 pm. No sign.
10 pm – I made friends with the local police station, mostly a lovely chap called Paul. Lovely PC Paul. The search continued.
11 pm. Still scouring the area for any sign of our beloved canine. By this time I had called every person, group, charity, company I could think of for help. We'd spoken to every human we could see and still no sign.
11.30 pm – I reckon the vast majority of the neighbourhood knew there was a lost dog. We were driving around yelling her name out the window, popping out and looking around, shining touches everywhere. No sh*ts were given about disturbing other people. I've never seen Ruby so focused.
Midnight – I had to bail. Because of reasons I have to get some sleep or my body begins rebelling against me. I found myself at Auntie Pina Colada's place on the sofa bed.
12.45 am – The police call. It's Lovely PC Paul. I'd been chatting to them on and off all evening for various reasons (we found another lost dog in our search for Luna as well as constant check to see if our dog had turned up) but this time, I'd just fallen asleep when his cheerful tones informed we that they think they'd found Luna.
1am – I realised that neither the police or I had Ruby's number. For the last 3 hours she had been driving around the area with the fierce determination of a scared mother, flinging herself down dark alleys, climbing into peoples gardens, and talking to all the characters that roam the town at night. There would be no sleep for Ruby until Luna was found. I, on the other hand, had to do my bestest tip-toeing around Auntie Pina Colada's flat to find her address book to get hold of Ruby. Thankfully, I've found, old women especially, are terribly organised. And sleep like the dead.
1.30 am – When Ruby went to pick her up she was doing her best impression of a well behaved dog – sat straight, smile on her face, waiting as patiently as she'd ever been. At this point everything is a haze of over tiredness, adrenaline crash and relief. Someone, shortly after 1am, like a combination of Batman and Robin Hood, had screeched into the police station and launched Luna over the fence into the police lock up and left as fast as they came.
The moral of the story is fireworks suck and losing a dog is terrifying.
Feel free to share your lost dog stories or any memories of living with animal shaped companions!
With love, until next time,
Ruby, Evie and all The Girls
