So I’m working in my office on one of the recent glorious spring days  with the windows wide open and I hear this crying.  A dog crying but it’s not familiar crying.  It’s an unfamiliar dog crying.  This is going on and on for at least fifteen minutes and then it stops…completely. 

I look out my office window and sure enough there’s a black lab mix in the parking lot.  He broke out and is roaming around the parking lot, peeing on whatever strikes his fancy, checking out the buildings and no one is coming after him?

Now he’s headed for my building. No, around the back of my building.  Ok, I just can’t let a dog run around without supervision.  Call me crazy but the cars are bigger than him and he doesn’t seem to notice.  I’m glad he’s headed around the back of my building because it’s safe back there near the forest (that’s another story). 

I close my girls in the office so there’s no incident in the making and head out my back door.  Here he comes…so I open the gate to my deck and call him up.  Actually it was more like woosy woosy woosy come here boy, you get the picture.  Up he comes; I close the gate and gotch ya! 

So now what?  I put him on a leash and off we go to find his family and check out the scene of the crime.  I walk him around to where I first noticed him and I don’t see anything unusual… until I look up.  This little escapee came from out of a second story window. Really?

Now I’m checking for broken bones, scratches, blood…nothing.  Its super dog!

Ok, I text Muriel with my usual snappy remark and now I have company in my little adventure.  There is knocking on doors, inquiries to neighbors (who were not at all happy with the little guys crying, or was it howling?) and then waiting. 

We took our little escapee for a short walk when someone new pulled into our street.  Now I don’t know all the neighbors but I’m pretty sure I know all the dogs and who goes with whom and this person seemed new and this dog seemed new soooooo.

We walked toward where he parked his truck and we asked him, “Is this your dog?”  Now when you leave your condo, the one on the second floor, and smooch your dog good bye you’re pretty sure that one of your neighbors isn’t going to be asking you if this is your dog.  The look on the poor guys face was priceless…it is my dog he stammered.  Sawyer, how the hell did you get out?  We pointed up to his mangled screen in the window and I thought he’d faint. 

Sawyer was extremely happy to see his Dad and his Dad was extremely happy and grateful to see him.  Another happy ending on Stowe Lane.