Runaways.

Well. That was exciting... in a stressful kind of way. And hard on the vocal chords. (Cords?).

What was that, Dan? See, it's like this: To get Rally out of the motor home to walk, she has to be picked up and set down on the ground.. while this is happening, the door swings wide open, because both hands (and attendant arms) are on the dog. This offers a golden opportunity for Mr. Sandia to make a break for it. Most of the time I've made a circus grab, on the fly, and tossed him back in before closing the door. Today, I got a finger on his collar, but he just slipped off and away he went.

To make today unique, Fanny took advantage of the wide open door while I was turned and yelling at Sandia. Just one, I can get back fairly easily. With two, I had co-enablers. Away they rushed... toward the campground office. They said hello to a lady getting into a pickup, wheeled and ran back toward me.. hey, this was going to be easy after all.

Not. They ran to a corner and peed, looked over their shoulder at this...

Yes... a cornfield. A big cornfield, with a couple of deer stands on the perimeter. The temptation was obviously too much, as they disappeared. When the dogs disappear in the deserts of New Mexico, I don't mind.. I know they'll be back. This is completely different. Farmers in Michigan, and most other states in the vicinity, shoot dogs that are chasing deer. I hoped they didn't jump any deer. I did see a sandhill crane launch more vertically than they're used to.

Meanwhile, I still had Rally on the flexi, and she hadn't peed yet, so I couldn't put her back in, and I couldn't trudge across the cornfield with her and her cast, and the long-promised rain just beginning. So I stood on the campground side yelling, and they cavorted on the opposite side. I just hoped they stayed in the field and didn't venture into the surrounding woods.

Rally finally peed. I ran back to the motor home, threw her in, grabbed my Fox 40 Classic, and ran back to the cornfield, hoping they were still in sight. I was now ready to venture into the field myself... alternatingly yelling their names and blowing the whistle.. Sandia, made a run back toward me, I brought out a dog biscuit, caught his eye... and he slowed,... and then decided he hadn't had enough exercise. Meanwhile, Fanny had disappeared from view. Then Sandia disappeared.

It had now been almost 20 minutes they'd been running loose. I was on my own, because Margaret had gone into Ann Arbor to visit her parents.. if I dropped dead in the middle of the field, no one would find me until they came through to plant new corn. I had to find them..

I was halfway across the field when Sandia approached. And stayed. I got a leash on him, gave him a biscuit that he was too exhausted to eat, (although he did remove it from my jacket pocket after we were back in the house), and we went in search of Fanny.

We got all the way across, to the foot of one of the deer stands, and she was nowhere in sight. There was a trail that sloped downhill toward Goose Lake, west of the stand... as we started down it, Fanny broke out of the woods behind us, and stood to be leashed. She was finally out of gas. But not out of surprises.

I'd thought the worse thing that could happen was that they'd be shot by some farmer. Perhaps not... Fanny was covered in burrs... including covering her right eye completely; and she'd rolled in something exotic. Crane crap? Deer carcass? It was black, and greasy, and stunk to the heavens. Great. She needed washing, and it was raining and only about 45 degrees. I didn't want to bring her in, but that was my only option.

And that's how I came to do a thorough cleaning up of the shower and the bathroom today!