The Great Escape

Wanna know how to get a real, rock solid, wake-you-up-Zipper-quick jolt on a Monday morning? Here’s how we do it here in Casa Valhalla.

1) Wake up a little on the late side (at 5 instead of 4AM).
2) Pat Rocco—he leaps to my side the minute my eyes flicker awake each morning.
3) Do the whole Nude Descending a Staircase dealie except that I’m clad in my Go to Hull sleep T and One Fish, Two Fish jammies. So then, not so much with the nudeness.
4) NORMALLY, Coco greets me as I reach the foot of the stairs. She’s ready for pats, treats and brekkie! 

I called for her. No Coco. TAB’d been up for about an hour but hadn’t seen her either. VERY unusual. If he’s sitting in his big chair she will be on his lap. It’s how she rolls.

Attempting to keep my rising alarm at bay, I looked in all her regular hiding places. No dice, no cat. I sez to TAB, ‘I saw her sitting in your chair before I came to bed last night. She can’t have gotten out.’ And then, THEN I saw that the screen, in the ONLY window that we’d left open last night, was torn far back. So much so that I wondered if we had visitors of the raccoon variety last night. It’s been known to happen.

 Next on the morning agenda? PANIC! If we’d been invaded by raccoons, was our sweet princess Coco OK? Where was she?! It was clear that ‘in the house’ wasn’t the answer. What if one of the occasional, transient foxes had gotten to her? OH NOS!

She's making plans for future break outs. Obviously!

Coco naps after her monster exploits

I donned a light jacket, flip flops, grabbed a bag of treats to shake and went out in search of our little adventurer.

Happily, MOST relievedly, the hunt didn’t take long. She was in the yard behind us. Unfortunately, I can’t slip between the fences which separate us so had to go ‘round the block.

Just as I entered the neighbor's yard, Coco executed a neat glissade back into our patch of earth. Of course. I called to TAB ‘she’s in our yard now!’ He came outside and began following her as she wandered about sniffing the flowers. Seeing that she was hyper aware of his presence, he didn’t immediately make a grab for her—she'd sprint away the second he'd bend over to snatch her up.

Eventually success was ours.

Naturally I’m wracked with guilt and trying to think of the reason she'd run off.

• She breaks out because she’s upset about the fact that Rocco’s taken over our bedroom (HER bedroom!).
• She ran away because I didn’t give her enough treats yesterday or pat her enough. I should’ve brushed her more! She needs more attention paid!
• She zipped out because I woke up late and she’s angry?

Ah, no. Coco does this every summer. She’s a little daredevil explorer. No clue how long she'd been outside this time. All night maybe. Christ.

Now I’ve got Bomb Squad levels of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Perhaps a spot of Jamo in my coffee would help.