There is a song...

that talks about a cat that that someone tried to get rid of. The chorus goes:

But the cat came back the very next day,
The cat came back, we thought he was a goner
But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away.
Away, away, yea, yea, yea

And that, my friends, is how I feel about that little dog down the road. We were doing so well, hadn't seen the dog in days and then like a poof, it appeared, once more.

So, I was in the living room trying to make sure that every Christmas decoration was put away and headed to the attic when I noticed some long hair walking by the glass oval in the door in the front living room. I did a double take because I could hardly believe my eyes. Dang, I thought, the dog is back AGAIN. I walked over to the door and quietly unlocked it. I was going to sneak up on this dog and scare it to death. I ripped the door open, screamed and the dog took off, just as planned. The ONLY problem is that it ran into a garden urn that I had just purchased. The urn wobbled from side to side and then fell off the front porch and onto the sidewalk. The dog was no where in sight but as I approached the urn I could see that it was no longer in just one piece. Dang dog. I threw the kids in the car and down the road we went.

I drove up in the driveway, there were three cars home so I knew someone was inside. I could see the front door was open and there was a little boy playing in the backyard. As I put the car in park, the front door slammed shut. I knew they saw me and couldn't believe I was back. I went to the door and rang the bell about 11 times (I counted). No one came. As I walked back to my car I peered around the side of the house and the little boy asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was looking for his mom or dad. He proceeded to tell me about who all lived in the house and then said his dad was in the barn and that he would go and get him. Yeah, I thought, I have yet to deal with a man at this house.

The guy came around the corner on a cell phone and asked me how he could help me. I started in with the whole story beginning with the black lab that so graciously gave us puppies to the stolen Christmas cards, and all the way to the broken garden urn. He said, "dude, I'll have to call you back" and hung up the phone. Then the conversation proceeded:

Guy: "That's not my dog."
Me: "Then whose is it? Two ladies have retrieved it from this house in the last week."
Guy: "It's my wife's sisters' dog."
Me: "So it lives here, at this house."
Guy: "Not when I'm home."
Me: "Well, then I guess you don't care if I take it to the pound."
Guy: "Actually I do because she wouldn't like that."
Me: "Then come get the dog, now."
Guy: expletive

I went back, got in my car, drove back to my house and waited. Sure enough, he followed. He swooped up the dog who, might I add, was sitting in the broken pot. (I loved it that he could see the evidence and the dog was sitting in the urn.)

That was Saturday, January 3rd. As of today, we haven't seen the dog since. Two days and counting...