Last Friday afternoon, when the humidity and heat was at its worst,
I took the Little Nies over to the secret park for the afternoon.
Mr. Nielson was on a conference call and needed the house to be quiet,
so we walked to the playground with Angus leading the pack.
We each jumped on a swing and nibbled Oliver's sunflower seeds,
while discussing space exploration, NASA,
and how Astronauts wash their underwear.
Claire also drew a sweet "I love mom" tat on Nicholas's arm with Sharpies.
(That was amazing to get off for church).
Somewhere in those conversations, I noticed Angus wasn't lying under the
shade area in the center of the park like he usually did.
We yelled for him with no response, then we
whistled still with no response.
This was uncharacteristic of him.
Then we all got slightly worried and split up
in all different directions to look for our favorite 4 legged beardless friends.
I jumped in the car and drove up and down the streets, yelling his name
while the boys took off on their motorcycles,
and Claire on her mountain bike.
Jane stayed home in case he happened to run home, and Lottie
was already printing out "Lost Dog" signs on the computer.
Several minutes later, I was driving down the road and found Claire holding
Angus by the collar with one hand and waving me down with the other.
I rolled down the window, and she yelled:
"Mom! I have the best story to tell you!!".
Back at home after reuniting, Claire retold how she took a path on her bike
in the thick forest when she heard barking noises.
Then she came upon a clearing and saw Angus
"frolicking around with a little spotted baby, doe."
Then she explained that it was the sweetest thing she had ever seen,
and even lingered a little watching them before breaking up the fun,
chasing the baby away and grabbing our naughty runaway.
I'm just glad he wasn't wet. I hate when he gets wet.