#2,047 Bust Out.

The morning was so beautiful, with bright sunshine streaming through the trees on our walk with the pups to the “swimming pool.”

So beautiful, in fact, neither the Weather Channel nor Ben and I figured it would rain today. Not a chance, we thought. Ben leaves the garage open anytime a cloud might come up, knowing Baker’s tendency to play dead or run in possibly stormy conditions.

But then.

Clouds started to fill the sky this afternoon. It didn’t thunder, that I noticed. But then my phone rang and it was Tyrone, the Chief of Police’s cell phone. I thought that either Ben had been in a terrible accident and it was AWFUL news, or, he needed a logo design for a walk-a-thon or something. Instead, he said, “Erin—this is Tyrone. Is Baker at home?”

And, sitting in my studio, I thought… Well, I think so. Yes? He said, “Officer Caraway is pretty sure she just saw him running down the sidewalk to the animal clinic, so she followed him right to the door and they let him inside. He must’ve gotten scared of the weather. I don’t know if they checked for a tag, but we’re pretty sure it’s him.”

My pup couldn’t get in the garage so he busted through the gate and went to the only other place he knew to go, 2 blocks away to the vet. How adorable is that?

Before we could hang up, my daddy was beeping in. Tyrone’s brother, Kim, my own personal security detail when I worked at the mall in high school and one of daddy’s very best employees ever at the hospital when he was just a young man, is now a detective at the Laurel Police Department, and called him to call me in case it was Baker.

And before we could hang up, the vet was beeping in to tell me they had him safe and sound.

And before we could hang up, Holly who works across the street from our house at the art museum was seeing if Baker was okay, because she saw Chevy in the front yard and helped him back home.

And so, Ben went to the vet to pick up our big scaredy pup, who was just fine.

And THIS. Is the wonderful thing about living in a small town, like I said last night. In a town like Laurel, there’s not police brutality, but there are police escorts protecting neighborhood dogs trying to take themselves to the vet.

I love this town.