I lost my dog last night.
After having drinks with friends from work and asking my Boyfriend to come home with me, I was ready to settle down to keep my alcohol buzz as low as possible. My brother then came home and was parking the car where my younger brother helps and of course, my dog Harry watches by the door.
I dunno how long after that that we noticed he was missing. Everyone was frantic. My brother took out his bike and the younger one with Boyfriend searched the other directions. By this time, I was crying helplessly in the street and looking for signs. We looked for hours, called my Mom and asked for help from our neighbors who knows what Harry looks like (he has a pretty distinguished crooked jawline). From my alcohol high to crying, I was pretty beat.
My Boyfriend is such a trooper. He looked with my brothers and didn’t want to leave me even if his home is at least an hour away. He thankfully refrained from comforting me too much or else I would have been a crying mess. He let me take a short wash for bed and stayed with me while I try to wind down on his lap from my high. I cried on his jeans, but it was more of a sad quiet sob.
It’s almost noon time and we have some developments of who stole my dog. Good thing Harry still has his fresh wound on the neck from scratching too much that he is easier to identify. I hope we find him. That dog was a gift. And he was wonderfully crazy.