I was past impatient, and growing worried, by the time I grabbed my keys yesturday morning. YaYa had left with Lucky in tow (or visa versa) for a morning walk. In the meantime, I’d walked Ronin through a set of dog-training drills, made my morning latte for my commute, and looked outside for signs of the boy and dog at least four times.
Although YaYa is supposed to stay within eye sight, I drove around the block first. The fact was, he was NOT within eyesight. With the amount of time that had passed, I figured that he had to have taken the long route. I was pretty sure that he wasn’t in one of the courts on the block. I just doesn’t take that long to cover the length of the block even if Lucky was allowed to sniff each and ever bush along the way. Unfortunately, there was no sign of him or the dog.
As my mind began playing out the worst of possible scenarios, I finally saw him. He was nearly home now, on the other side of the street, just on the outer edge of the court. He was standing almost completely still, barely creeping along. Lucky was at the end of the leash, looking back at the boy, with the grass and bushes just out of reach.
From the initial assessment, I could not imagine what could have taken the boy so long to return home, nor could I figure out why he was just standing in one spot. Then…I saw the reason: In YaYa’s hand was his GameBoy! Isn’t it odd how something that has been in a drawer for a long time, then rediscovered (such as this GameBoy), can hold a boy’s attention so completely. My relief, at knowing that YaYa was safe, was quickly replaced with anger…which I unleashed on the poor lad with full force.
We have since hugged and made up. We have also talked about my worries about his safety – even if unwarranted (in this case). I also pointed out that the point of Lucky’s morning walk is that he gets exercise – which cannot happen if they are moving at a snail’s pace. He is old, but not that old.
