There's a poem in A.A. Milne's When We Were Very Young which reads, in part,

Nanny let my beetle out,
Nanny let my beetle out,
Nanny let my beetle out,
And beetle ran away.

Yesterday, my husband let my doggie out and doggie ran after the car, trying to track him and got lost. I guess you can say she ran away, but she was just trying to stay with her pack.

To say I was upset would be a gross understatement. This is a creature who is completely dependent on us for food, shelter and pack identity. To let her out and then not realize it and look for her, to just drive off, was gross negligence. I always check to make sure she's in the house before I leave.

Some wonderful people found her in the middle of a major intersection, confused and frightened, with horns blaring at her, cars being screeched to a halt and swerving around her. She is not street wise and it's a miracle she wasn't hit. (There are people who run over animals on purpose.)

I had my telephone number on a tag on a collar. The people called me; we were reunited. I'm still angry and upset, along with being terribly relieved that she's OK.

She slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted, snoring mightily. I tossed and turned, unable to be centered and relax. I expect her to die naturally in a short number of years, such is the cycle of life, but I will be devastated if she dies or is injured through carelessness or neglect.

She's my friend and my constant companion. She has shown me the possibility of unconditional love. I owe her safety and the comfort of her pack.