Afternoons with Rune and Mara Part II

I am not a dog owner. I think to be a dog owner you have to be willing to pick up the dog's shit, and I've clearly exempt that from my responsibilities. I point in the direction Rune pooped and Jethro goes out with the baggie. I am a dog watcher, a dog lover, a wannabe.

Today I sent this e-mail to the Dog Owner:

Dear Daddy,

Today your dog thought it would be really funny to escape the back yard. He never does this even if the gates are open, but today he knew I was dressed in pink capris with white tube socks pulled up to eliminate my calves from showing, bra-less and in a t-shirt. As I opened the back door to call him in, I noticed he was not hiding behind the tree; he was gone. I frantically ran up the stairs, jumped out of my pants and into jeans, put on my coat and grabbed my cell phone. On my way down, I hit my elbow so hard on the ledge and was unable to stifle The F Word. I took off running in the open gate's direction and there he came, waddling in like WHAT'S UP, MOM? I WAS JUST SEEING IF THERE WAS ANY BETTER GRASS OUT THERE. CHILL OUT!

Pushy little fella. And oh-so smart.

Always,
Mara

Rune is a great dog. When Jethro reads that he is going to agree with Rune: I need to CHILL OUT! because he knows (and I should know) Rune will return. But I've never taken care of any live being before (or dead, for that matter) and I panic at the unknown. What if outside the gate there is a middle aged dog snatcher? THEN WHAT? I would never forgive myself. So Rune, until the day you enter doggie heaven, know I am always going to panic when you pull normal doggie stunts. And that is how I know my love for you.