I shouldn't be here. Not now. I should be in circuit training. But I'm here and all because of GEORGE!
I gave him his dinner outside then we sat down to do our Italian. It wasn't until the end of that that it struck me that George had been out there for a long time. You've guessed: he'd gone AWOL.
Husband took his bike and I took the car and we spent the next 50 minutes - yes, 50 minutes - looking for him. I arrived home, George-less and starting to worry that he'd been dognapped - which wouldn't be difficult as he'll get in anyone's car - to find him inside the gate and a woman in a car outside, scribbling a note. She asked me if he lived there - I was tempted to reply, 'not much longer, not when he gets shot,' - and said she'd found him wandering around looking as if he had no road sense at all. When she stopped the car and called him, he rolled on his back in the middle of the road so she could tickle him. She'd guessed this might be his home from the 'Please close the gate as escaping dog lives here' sign on it.
I guess he was on his way home from wherever he'd been. We'd tried all his favourite haunts so we can only assume he's found another source of food.
I hear a dog has won the latest Britain's Got Talent contest. I'm thinking of contacting Simon Cowell and suggesting a new style game show: The Great Escape. It'd be a doddle for George; we could make a million.