The events of Friday

Friday was the kids holiday pageant at their preschool, and I could not go. Since Nick is in the youngest class and Max is in the oldest, it's a commitment from 9-12, which I couldn't do. It was also the night of my office party, so I got a ride to work from my lovely, incredibly pregnant co-worker who would drive me home so I could have a drink at the party. Yes, I'm setting the stage for what happened that day. It's worth it. 

I get a phone call from Leo at around 9 that morning, and I knew something was wrong simply because they shouldn't have been at home at that time. He was frantic on the phone, and the first words out of his mouth were "You have to come home!" Naturally, I'm in a blind panic, imagining the worst of worst case scenarios.   When I manage to get some details out of him, it sounded like this: "The f*&$ing dog ate all of the Christmas cookies I made for the pageant!!" Ok. That's bad. Leo made incredibly chocolate m&m cookies from scratch. They were great, and more importantly he worked really hard on them. Then, "And I yelled at him and he ran out the front door and he's gone!!" So that's worse. "And the kids are late for the pageant and I can't drive around looking for the dog!" I see. Now it's clear. Only problem: I have no car. I borrow a friends car, and run (literally) out of the office (oblivious to the state of panic I'm leaving behind me. Mothers? Do NOT pick up and run out of the office without reassurances that it's not your kids. Apparently even shouting "DOG" over your shoulder doesn't convey the message clearly). 

So I'm in Toby's car driving through the freezing rain to get to my house, which is easily 25 minutes away. Crappy drive. I pull up to the house and see my neighbors big, beat up, red camper truck. Feeling a flicker of hope I roll down the window and say "I hope you've got a dog in there" Sure enough, Mark had seen Dewey on the street around the corner from our house (which was my worst nightmare - so much traffic going really really fast), and he opened his truck door and said "Dewey?" He says he's never seen a dog so happy to see someone, and jumped into the truck without a second thought. 

I collect Dewey from my other neighbor (it takes a village to raise Dewey) who is enjoying the situation immensely. It is pretty funny, in hindsight, especially when he greets me with so much joy that he jumps on me and completely rips my stocking (office party, remember?). Not just a little run, but a full on Courtney Love tear. Classy. 

Feeling as though I can see the end of the ordeal, I take Dewey over to our house. It isn't until I start up the stairs that the small worry about not having a house key (got a ride, remember?) begins to nag. Sure enough, the house is locked up like a drum. So I'm looking from Dewey (wet, doggy, dirty) to Toby's car (silver Passat, clean, not mine), knowing full well what was going to have to happen. 

I consoled myself by finding a very small coffee colored stain on the back seat of Toby's car (it's not that clean) and had Dewey hop into the backseat. We take off for the preschool, to hopefully find Leo and get the keys. I was worried (concerned, horrified, full of dread) about leaving Dewey in the car while I went into the preschool to find Leo. He's never been left in a car alone, and I'd heard plenty of horror stories of people's dogs eating (literally) their car seats. Hoping against hope, I gave Dewey a long and stern lecture and ran into the preschool. Amazingly, Leo and Nicky were coming out just as I was going in - Nick had finished his portion of the show and they were going to head home to try to find Dewey before Max took the stage. I tried to ignore Nicky's look of shock at my appearance, not only unexpected, but slightly insane. Red cheeks, running nose, wet hair, and the before mentioned stockings.  I took off for the car, praying that I didn't see it rocking violently, or only see a cloud of foam where the car should be. Nope. Just Dewey, snoozing in the back seat. My heart softened a bit then.

At this point I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could run Dewey home, grab a new pair of tights, drop the keys back with Leo and be back at my office before 11. Perfect! 

It all went to plan until I got back to the preschool and handed off the keys. Before I could sneak out I was spotted by Max's teacher. "You're here! That's so wonderful he's going to be thrilled. He has worked really hard on these songs!" Now, what mother, especially a mother who is seen in the preschool as often as Bigfoot is going to clarify things with this teacher and say "no, no I've got get to work". Not this one. I smiled, beatifically, of course, and took credit for the surprise. By the end of the performance I almost believed it myself. 

It all ended well. Dewey has been a little green around the gills for the past two days, Leo made a replacement batch of cookies (enough of the original batch survived for the preschool), and I got back to my office in time to retell the story five times.