"Wanderlust"

The Chuch keeps escaping. As soon as the sun rotates over Springville in the east, she is jumping for her life to get free of our yard. I wake up to Lyle shutting our gate after finding The Chuch over at his place eating their homemade wooden lawn ornaments. Good thing senior citizens only sleep for three hours a night after they go to bed a 6:00. It gives me anxiety, less that my dog is roaming the hood at such a young age, more that Lyle scares me.
Scares me all over.
When I talk to him he never can hear me. SO I YELL AND I FEEL REALLY SILLY DOING IT. One time I dashed outside to get something out of my car and he stopped me to talk about how our leaves were clogging up the gutter and it was too late when I realized I was wearing nothing but exercising pants with my special underwear top.
The husband was pulling out some weeds in our front lawn this summer and Lyle said "It's about time."
When we got our first dog I saw definite distress on his face.
When we got dog number two I could literally see his pace maker stop. Stop. Stop. Then it started again so that he could go inside and get his keys to his motor home and take that special trip to Cancun that "they was always talking about."
So you can see, everytime The Chuch gets out I cringe. The husband said that when he was looking up some info about spaying dogs he found one "research website" that made a "suggestion" that "female dogs" might have less "wanderlust" after they are "spayed". Wanderlust is NOT The Chuch's problem. Unless her wanderlust is just going over to Lyle and Lola's to pee on their perfect grass and gnaw at their flower boxes made from old tires. After that conversation I "suggested" that Christopher "spay" me to cure my "wanderlust". And even though I was "kidding" it still "hurt" his feelings. And made him wonder what is causing my wander. (The answer honey, as always, is: CHOCOLATE. Hey I am a woman. I got needs too!!!)
That was a paragraph that, indeed, has nothing to do with the rest of this post.
To calm my nerves the husband went over to Lyle's this afternoon, with pocketbook in hand, for the grand tally of what The Chuch, The Great Destroyer of This Universe Started By Adam, had accumulated. I was thinking a couple barrels of wood, four or five brick-colored spray painted tires, and then plastic flamingos. Maybe we could get away with less than a hundred bucks.
"No damage done." Lyle said "After the kindness you showed to my granddaughters I would put your dogs back everyday without ever a complaint by me. Don't you worry." Then he went on to tell the husband about his German Shorthair that would jump their 8 foot fence. "There is no containing some dogs." he explained.
When the husband told me all this my heart recovered back to it's normal rhythms. He doesn't hate me. He doesn't hate us. And all that I endured with those girls was indeed worth something although it was really, really difficult at times.
I can kind of relate to my dog daughter though. I remember too when I wanted to "jump the fence" and see the great beyond. Check out the poodle across the street with the over-manicured landscaping, try eating poo off someone else's lawn- left by some other dog, go to the Chev and try donettes fresh out of the dumpster. Of course, I never did get around to doing these particular adventures, but I thought about them none-the-less.
So fly! my dear Chuch fly! And when you are ready to come back to your home, Uncle Lyle will receive you with open arms and gently put you back in our backyard...where you belong.