Awoke late this morning after staying up and reading Ian's most excellent book last night. The propane people woke me up to fill our tank. They come once a year ($491 to fill it---that provides propane for our fridge, cooking stove and heater). Not bad for a year's worth of fuel.
At some point Angel snuck away.
She is a good dog, but given to sneakiness once and awhile. She is allergic to almost all foods other than lamb and rice (dogs, like people, are almost never allergic to lamb and rice; I think these must have been the first domesticated foods). Dogs don't really understand the lack of variety in their diet. They just look at you and don't understand when you tell them: "If I give this to you, your fur will fall out, you will itch and a scaly smelly corn-flake rash will spread from your toes to your snout". No, they don't understand that.
But a dog does know there are certain delectable delights out there. Dogs (and also bears, skunks, raccoons and other four legged creatures) love garbage. And compost.
Angel has all the garbage heaps and compost piles memorized with her talented snout. Given a chance to make a break for it, she runs off to either play with a variety of neighborhood dogs (who don't suffer the indignity of being on a leash or in a fenced yard) or to roost about in some smelly, stinky compost pile.
And that is what she did to me: she ran off when the front door was ajar and I wasn't paying attention. I spent an hour inspecting all the likely spots. First I check out the Adventists houses, then down the hill to the alpacas, then over to Grady's; up to the Triangle house, back down to the alpacas--all the while whistling, hollering and shouting for the darned dog.
I found her later at one of the first houses I checked, eating green bread from their compost pile. Her expression? "You looking for me? I was here the whole time...."