Once upon a time, when Lilly was still an evasive pup, she got lost right here at home. We looked high and low but did not see her smiling face anywhere. We checked all over but saw no tiny black butt sticking up from an under-construction hole. We drove the neighborhood, calling her name, to no avail.
So, we came home and retraced our steps. We checked the house, the creekbed, the shed.
Tic-toc, time passed, and still no Lilly.
Through tear-filled eyes (let’s face it I was bawling at this point), I wandered our property, calling her name.
And, then I heard it — the grunts and squeaks of a pup that could see and hear me, but not get to me. So, I followed the noise, still calling her name.
As I rounded the west side of the house for the millionth time, I saw her head poking out from a gap between our back deck and the house. Clearly, that’s not how she got under there. Clearly, she couldn’t remember how to get out.
It’s no longer there. But, at the time, there was a trap door access to some hot tub piping, so we peeled that back, stuck our heads in the hole and called Lilly to us. She was pretty freaked out as she squirmed her way under the deck bracing and over the support poles, but once we got her close, we hoisted her out the trap door.
Our best guess is that she squeezed between the east stairs (where the rattle snake was recently) and the house. We immediately closed that gap, so that particular spot hasn’t been a problem since.
But, look what I found earlier this week … first the hall bathtub, now this:
The hall bathtub
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