I'm a veteran at answering the front door bent over with my hand flat out so the cats don't get out. I've been doing it for 25 years, and my family is the same way - I can't imagine how he could've gotten out the front door, but I'm guessing he did.
His brother Max is devastated. He's been wandering around my house with the mournful cries, crying out for his brother.
It's horrible. Really, really terrible.
Tomorrow, I'm going to put signs up, and check with Animal Control on Monday. Dakota is a pretty skittish guy so I don't hold out much hope he'll turn up on somebody's doorstep. I've only had him for a few days, so he doesn't know where he lives.
Tomorrow, I was supposed to take Max and Dakota to the Petsmart adoption centre. I can't do it now. I can't leave Max in a Petsmart cage after he's lost his beloved brother. I can't do it. Can't do it.
This incident doesn't go under the category of "shit happens". It's beyond that. I feel like such a fool. I took the dog for a walk tonight with hope I'd spot him. I called out his name, but he doesn't really know me.
I haven't given up hope yet....but I'm close.
Update Sunday 9 a.m. - DAKOTA HAS BEEN FOUND! He was hiding behind my dryer. I must've looked there a million times yesterday, but there he was laying in the lint and lost socks. I have no idea if he could get out or not, but at least he was in the laundry room with food, water and a litterbox. He's hissing at me and his brother seems happy to see him. Thank God.
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