The Best Bad Luck Worst Party Ever

The party was going well until there was some dissension amongst some of the attendees.  That resulted in a few of the girl guests going around the side of the house and into the back yard.  In all their youthful excitement, they left the gate open.  Now they know that people with dogs keep their gates closed for a good reason, and I have learned to put locks on the gates… but back to the story.

As I was running around trying to play mediator and pass out Zombie Balls, I did notice that Dante wasn’t underfoot as usual.  I mentioned it out loud to myself a few times but each time some event would distract me.  Bad luck dynamics were definitely at play here.

Finally all the inside dramas had subsided, and as I farewelled departing revelers I remembered Dante again.  A quick trot thru the house told me bad news; Dante was missing.  Then the open gate was discovered and it was time for a midnight hunt.

Of course the weather was freezing.  Mr. Smith walked thru the neighborhood calling while I drove along the busier roadways.  There was no Dante to be found.  A few hours later we called the search off and we all tried to get some sleep.  Wherever Dante was, he was going to have to stay there until morning.

Dawn broke to dash our hopes that the missing Dante would be waiting on the front porch.  I made the calls to the local animal shelter and put out the pet equivalent to an Amber Alert with all the vets in town.  Then a call came thru: Dante had been found… and then lost again.

Someone had picked him up in the night and taken him to the local animal shelter.  Unfortunately they locked him in a broken and rickety holding pen.  I suspect he was free within minutes.  The shelter worker promised to watch for him.  We headed to that area by car and spent another hour or so driving around calling his name.  No Dante.  I went to work trying not to cry.

Another call came thru while I was working: Dante had been seen cavorting behind a warehouse.  Mr. Smith and my daughter geared up for a rescue mission.  Tracking dog prints thru brambles and underbrush they found the grateful runaway.  The underbrush was so thick he couldn’t run a straight line to his rescuers.  Limping sideways, a happy but exhausted Dante was reunited.

In the end, all was well and we all agreed that it had been the worst party ever.  Since it was to celebrate Friday the 13th, tho, I guess that makes it the best bad luck party ever, but I don’t think we want any more of those.

Next Friday the 13th I think we’ll all just curl up with our lucky rabbits feet and wait it out.