On Sunday we adopted this tiny little five year old Chihuahua Terrier(?) mix from Rescue Vets in our area. Apparently she was brought from a shelter in KY with a high kill rate. So far we know nothing about her except that she’s 11 pounds of stubborn!

Dave fell in love with her even though he originally wanted a Frenchie. He said if we don’t take her, probably no one will because she’s already five. So proud of him. (In my family we call that the Lori syndrome!😘)

She loves the sunroom and looking outside while being able to avoid us at the same time! I need to make cushions for the benches…

So Tuesday night she’s crated in the family room and starts crying in the middle of the night. I get up, let her out of the crate and she runs to the front door. I put on my Bearpaw boots, which are handy, and a raincoat over my nightshirt. Always fashion forward. It’s pouring rain and she walks around a bit then sits down in the grass!

I carry her back in, apparently don’t completely close the storm door, take off her leash, put her down. She head butts the door open and takes off down the block!

I start running after her. After half a block I realize I am not Usain Bolt— and she is —and run back to get my car. My hair is soaking wet as is my coat. It’s a total lost cause to find a tiny dog in blinding rain when she has more than a block head start. I drive slowly around, talk to the security person in our gated subdivision and she consoles me that Leia will turn up after taking down all my info…

I go home to worry for a few hours and try to make Dave and myself feel better. And drink coffee. Doesn’t help, still crying. She’s just so little! I remind myself she has a tag on with my number, she’s microchipped and probably a little street savvy since she was a stray.

As it’s getting light out and the rain stops, I walk around the area, talking to neighbors who are out with their dogs and everyone agrees to keep an eye out. Get back in the car and check out a nearby strip mall thinking the smell of food might have drawn her in. No luck…

Go back home for a quick shower and put on real clothes when my phone rings. It’s 7:45 a.m. and it’s an unfamiliar number. He says, hi, I’m Frank. I’m working construction and I think I have your dog…

I zip over to the main road at the entrance to our subdivision, maybe a mile and a half away, and sure enough, there she is, wagging like crazy and happy as if she had good sense to see me! I could have kissed that man I was so relieved to see her (and he was pretty darn cute, too!). But I digress…

After wrapping her in a blanket and driving home, she ate, drank water and passed out to recover from her night of partying! Hard to picture what the second week will be like…